C28 THE FLAME OF AWAKENING

The rain came in silver sheets, gentle at first, then stronger—like the heavens themselves mourned for her.

Elara sat by the window, her fingers quivering as she traced the faint scorch traces scorched into her palm. She didn’t know when they appeared, only that they pulsed every time she uttered his name.

“Damon…”

It felt strange—familiar, yet forbidden. The phrases carried power, passion