Vera

The morning sun should have brought comfort, but instead, it cast the Bellanti estate in an almost fragile light — too golden, too still, too watchful. Every corner of the mansion felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for something unseen to move.

I stood at the kitchen counter, stirring tea that had long gone cold. My mind kept returning to the night before — the figure bathed in golden light, the shimmer that had pulsed like a heartbeat, and the whisper of power that had ...