Raised voices clashed in the air, words sharpened like knives cutting through the walls of the grand house. Lucien had long learned to slip away when it started.
The night welcomed him. Above him, the full moon burned silver, casting long shadows on the frozen ground. It was late, but Selene would be waiting. She always was.
But as he stepped into the stables, something was different. The usual comfort of her presence was absent. Instead of the soft whicker of greeting, Selene shifted uneasily in her stall, ears flicking back. Her muscles were tense, nostrils flared.
"Selene?" His voice was gentle, but she recoiled slightly, pawing at the hay-covered floor. A flicker of confusion passed through him. She had never feared him before.
then the moon reached its peak.
A breath of silence, then a rush of white mist erupted from the stall, swirling around Selene like a living thing. Lucien staggered back, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Then, as suddenly as it had come, the mist vanished.
Selene was gone.
In her place stood a woman.
She had white hair cascaded down her shoulders in waves, adorned with Silver glittery strands, woven within her hair. Her skin was smooth and her eyes—Selene’s eyes—held the same deep, knowing softness.
She wore black, sheer fabric clinging to her form.For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then, slowly, she took a step back, her gaze dropping to the ground. "You were not meant to see me like this." Her voice was a whisper. Lucien, still reeling, swallowed against the tightness in his throat. "Selene?" Her lips parted slightly, but couldn’t find the words. She was afraid of of what had been revealed. And Selene—no, the woman before him—looked at him with the same quiet trust she always had.