The shadows in the Valerio manor deepened, coiling around the marble pillars and gilded halls like serpents sensing blood. The air pulsed with a tension Selena couldn't shake. Every whisper of wind, every flicker of candlelight seemed to speak of something ancient and inevitable.
Ever since the mark had burned itself into her soul, something inside her had shifted. Her dreams had turned into haunting visions—memories not hers, yet carried with the clarity of firsthand pain. A woman in white, bleeding beneath a crimson moon. A beast with glowing eyes chained by obsidian cuffs. Whispers in a forgotten language etched with longing and rage.
Selena woke gasping each night, her sheets soaked, her skin burning where Dante had nearly marked her.
