01-24-2026, 01:28 AM
Seraphis did not run to the Luminar’s summons. She moved with purpose, but something inside her unspooled just slightly at the thought of being called to his presence. Not Lucien. Not another summon to brief a Veilwarden call. Her. Summoned by him.
She told herself it was because of her reports training Nora. The Ember had drawn praise from everyone, even those who did not hand out praise as lightly as breath. It must be that. It ought to be that.
Still, she paused outside the door, smoothing the pale fall of her hair behind her shoulders and checking her cuffs with unconscious precision. One breath. Then another and composure slid over her like armor.
She knocked once—firm, not sharp—and entered at his call.
"Ah, Seraphis. How are you, my dear?"
He always said it that way. Warm, distant, and unthinking, but it was enough to stir something beneath the calm she wore like her Veilwarden dress. She inclined her head.
"Very well, Luminar. And yourself?" Her voice was steady and trained, the voice of someone who’d once been a ward and was determined never to be mistaken for one again.
He gestured to the chair opposite him, and she took it without hesitation, spine straight, hands folded. The study smelled faintly of sage and the old paper of restricted texts. His presence filled it like incense.
"I have news," he said, steepling his fingers. "I have been invited to an audience with the Ascendancy at the Kremlin."
That stilled her thoughts for a moment. The Kremlin. She had passed its walls a hundred times, its spires gleaming like spears held against the sky. But she had never been within.
"Lucien will accompany me," Theron went on. "And I have decided to bring you as well." Her breath caught only a little, only inward, but her eyes widened before she mastered them.
"I require a certain perspective,” he continued. “One I believe only you can offer."
She nodded, once. Not too eager. But her heart still thudded like a drum beneath her ribs.
"Of course, Luminar. Whatever you need."
She would not ask why. She would not speculate aloud. That was not what was required of her. But behind her composed expression, a hundred thoughts moved like shadows behind a veil.
She told herself it was because of her reports training Nora. The Ember had drawn praise from everyone, even those who did not hand out praise as lightly as breath. It must be that. It ought to be that.
Still, she paused outside the door, smoothing the pale fall of her hair behind her shoulders and checking her cuffs with unconscious precision. One breath. Then another and composure slid over her like armor.
She knocked once—firm, not sharp—and entered at his call.
"Ah, Seraphis. How are you, my dear?"
He always said it that way. Warm, distant, and unthinking, but it was enough to stir something beneath the calm she wore like her Veilwarden dress. She inclined her head.
"Very well, Luminar. And yourself?" Her voice was steady and trained, the voice of someone who’d once been a ward and was determined never to be mistaken for one again.
He gestured to the chair opposite him, and she took it without hesitation, spine straight, hands folded. The study smelled faintly of sage and the old paper of restricted texts. His presence filled it like incense.
"I have news," he said, steepling his fingers. "I have been invited to an audience with the Ascendancy at the Kremlin."
That stilled her thoughts for a moment. The Kremlin. She had passed its walls a hundred times, its spires gleaming like spears held against the sky. But she had never been within.
"Lucien will accompany me," Theron went on. "And I have decided to bring you as well." Her breath caught only a little, only inward, but her eyes widened before she mastered them.
"I require a certain perspective,” he continued. “One I believe only you can offer."
She nodded, once. Not too eager. But her heart still thudded like a drum beneath her ribs.
"Of course, Luminar. Whatever you need."
She would not ask why. She would not speculate aloud. That was not what was required of her. But behind her composed expression, a hundred thoughts moved like shadows behind a veil.
![[Image: Seraphis-signature.jpg]](https://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/12/Seraphis-signature.jpg)