Vyan's breath caught in his throat.
He stood frozen, eyes locked on the older woman before him. Ginger-red hair cascaded gently over her shoulders, eyes the soft shade of stormy grey. Just like his mother's. Exactly like hers.
The resemblance was so uncanny that it knocked the air from his lungs.
It was happening again.
That same disorienting, heart-wrenching feeling he had when he first met Celeste at the garden in Crystal Palace. That fragile moment when memory and reality collided, and he saw his mother through someone else.
Only this time, the illusion was heavier.
This time, there was another figure beside the woman—an older man. And the sight of him hit Vyan like a punch he hadn't braced for.
Black hair peppered with gray. The same sharp jawline. The same strong features.
Father.
