Chapter 87 Seraphine
I heard my name before I heard the rest of it.
Not spoken—felt.
That strange, tugging awareness in my chest that had started happening more and more often, like my body knew when I was being discussed even if my ears didn’t.
I stood slowly, the ache in my bones protesting as I steadied myself on the railing at the top of the stairs. The kitchen behind me still smelled faintly scorched, but the water Amara had shoved into my hands sat heavy and grounding in my stomach.
I took a breath.
Then another.
And started down.
The room quieted the moment my foot hit the first step.
Not abruptly. Not dramatically.
Just… attentively.
They all turned.
Fire. Water. Death.
Thane’s words were still hanging in the air when I reached the bottom.
I won’t pretend I don’t recognize what she is.
I stopped on the last step.
“So,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt, “if you recognize it—”
Every eye snapped to me.
“—then what am I?”
Silence slammed down.
Not the thoughtful kind.
The dangerous kind.
Thane’s expression shifted first—not fear, not guilt, but calculation. He straightened slightly, as if choosing his footing with care.
“That’s… not a question with a simple answer,” he said.
I tilted my head. “Funny. Because it feels like one.”
Lucian’s jaw tightened. Dante went still beside him, fire pulsing low but contained.
Amara glanced between them, then at me. “Okay,” she said slowly. “I’m going to need someone to actually answer her. Because if you all keep doing the vague god-thing, I swear I’m going to start throwing furniture.”
A corner of Thane’s mouth twitched. “She has a sharp mind.”
I didn’t blink. “Don’t.”
He raised a brow. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t compliment me to dodge the question.”
That wiped the faint humor from his face.
“You’re perceptive,” he tried again. “Resilient. You adapted faster than any dragonborn I’ve seen awaken without—”
“Stop,” I said flatly. “You’re doing it again.”
Amara crossed her arms. “Yeah. He totally is.”
Lucian exhaled through his nose. “Thane.”
Thane looked annoyed now. “If I answer her incorrectly, I risk accelerating something none of us fully understand.”
I laughed once, sharp. “You kidnapped women and drowned them for eight years, but this is where you draw the ethical line?”
That landed.
Hard.
Thane didn’t respond.
I turned instead—slowly—to Dante.
He hadn’t moved since I started down the stairs. His gaze was locked on me like I might disappear if he looked away.
“Dante,” I said quietly. “What am I?”
The room held its breath.
He hesitated.
Just long enough to matter.
Then he said, “I think you might be a High Priestess.”
Amara’s head snapped toward him. “A what?”
Lucian’s eyes widened a fraction.
Thane went very still.
I stared at Dante, my brain struggling to catch up. “You’re going to have to add more words to that sentence.”
Dante swallowed. “A High Priestess. Reincarnated.”
The floor didn’t drop out from under me.
That almost scared me more.
I waited.
Lucian stepped in then, voice careful, reverent in a way I hadn’t heard from him before.
“The last High Priestess walked the world over three thousand years ago,” he said. “Before the fracture. Before the kings ruled openly. She wasn’t a queen. She wasn’t a ruler.”
“What was she?” I asked.
“A balance,” Lucian replied. “Between dragonkind and the world. She didn’t command elements—she translated them. She could hear dragons without being consumed by them.”
My throat tightened.
“That’s… not a thing anymore,” Amara said.
Lucian nodded. “Because she died.”
I let that sit.
“And reincarnated?” I asked Dante.
“Is rare,” he said. “Almost unheard of. Priestesses usually burn out. Their power eats them alive before another lifetime can take hold.”
I looked between them. “Then why do you think that’s me?”
Dante met my gaze fully now.
“Because you’re not burning out.”
My pulse quickened.
“Because you listen,” he continued. “You don’t dominate. You don’t suppress. You ask.”
I swallowed.
“You question us,” he said softly. “You question yourself. You care about the women in those beds more than your own safety. You see extinction and think about people—not power.”
Amara’s voice wobbled. “Okay, that’s… actually kind of convincing.”
Lucian nodded slowly. “A young priestess in training would have called for sanctuary by now. Quiet. Healing. Withdrawal.”
“And you didn’t,” Dante finished. “You fought. You negotiated. You organized. You adapted.”
He stepped closer—but stopped himself.
“That kind of composure under trauma,” he said, “isn’t normal. Even for dragonborn.”
I laughed weakly. “You realize you’re describing a very stressed-out journalist with a caffeine addiction, right?”
Lucian almost smiled.
Thane didn’t.
“High Priestesses don’t reincarnate easily,” Thane said. “And they don’t awaken by accident.”
I turned back to him. “Then stop circling it and say what you mean.”
He hesitated.
Again.
“They awaken when dragonkind reaches a breaking point,” he said quietly. “When kings fail.”
The words rang like a bell struck too hard.
Dante stiffened. “Careful.”
“I am being careful,” Thane replied. “If she is what you think she is, then this was inevitable.”
I felt something settle in my chest.
Not fear.
Recognition.
“So,” I said slowly, “you’re telling me I might be… what. A reset button?”
“No,” Lucian said quickly. “A bridge.”
“A conscience,” Amara added.
Dante’s voice dropped. “A choice.”
I closed my eyes.
When I opened them, I looked at the beds again. At the women still chained. Still waiting.
“Then here’s what I am,” I said quietly. “I’m someone who refuses to let any of them die for an experiment. I don’t care if that makes me priestess, problem, or pain in your ass.”
Amara snorted. “That tracks.”
I met Dante’s eyes again. “And if I’m wrong—if I’m just a dragonborn who got lucky and loud—then we still fix this. Together.”
His fire flared—not wild, not possessive.
Protective.
Lucian nodded. “Agreed.”
Thane studied me for a long moment.
Then, finally, he inclined his head.
“Very well,” he said. “Then we stop forcing evolution.”
My breath caught.
“And we start listening,” he added.