Sera's Pov
She explained how she got the idea for the weapon, how she had drawn in idle moments, in restless silence, and between scraps of broken sleep—it was almost an exact replica of my lunar scythe. Not perfect. But close. The curve of the blade, the way it would balanced in my hand, the markings she'd sketched along the hilt—they all mimicked what I had once wielded in my world.
A prototype of the real thing.
She said hadn't consciously tried to recreate it at first. She'd just let my hand move, driven by instinct or memory, or maybe something deeper.
Something pulsed inside me. I remembered that dream where I fought Velka. She had looked at the scythe then with more than surprise. She had reacted. As if it meant something to her. As if she recognized it—or feared it.
That reaction had stuck with me.
