Chapter Twelve: The Call to Arms

The days following Damian's confession passed in a flurry of activity. The Auria witches, now fully aware of the stakes, threw themselves into preparations for the inevitable clash with Selene. The stronghold became a hive of energy, with witches training, fortifying defenses, and strategizing late into the night.

Seraphina barely had time to think, much less process everything Damian had told her. The weight of the shard in her possession seemed heavier now, its significance pressing down on her shoulders. But there was no time to dwell. Selene wouldn't wait, and neither could they.

Lysandra called a council meeting in the main hall, her voice echoing through the chamber as she addressed the gathered witches.

"We've held the line against the Noctis coven before," Lysandra began, her tone sharp and commanding. "But this isn't like any battle we've faced. Selene has grown stronger. She's desperate, and desperation makes her dangerous. We must be ready for anything."

A murmur rippled through the room, but it quickly settled as all eyes turned to Seraphina. She stood at the center of the hall, the shard glowing faintly in her hand, its light casting golden shadows against her skin.

"We don't have the luxury of waiting for Selene to make the next move," Seraphina said, her voice steady despite the nerves curling in her stomach. "She wants the shard, but what she doesn't realize is that we're not just defending—we're going to fight back."

Her words sparked a surge of energy in the room, witches nodding and murmuring in agreement. Even Lysandra's expression softened with approval.

As the meeting concluded and the witches dispersed to prepare, Seraphina felt Damian's presence behind her. His warmth was unmistakable, a quiet reassurance she had come to rely on.

"You handled that well," he said, his voice low.

She turned to face him, their gazes locking. The intensity in his amber eyes made her pulse quicken. "I hope it's enough," she admitted.

Damian stepped closer, his hand brushing against hers, the lightest of touches that sent a shiver up her spine. "It's more than enough. You're more than enough."

The way he looked at her, like she was the only thing in the room, made her breath hitch. The tension between them had been simmering for days, ever since their conversation in the tower. Now, in the quiet of the nearly empty hall, it threatened to boil over.

"Damian…" she started, but her words trailed off as he reached up, his fingers lightly brushing a strand of hair from her face.

"You're carrying so much on your shoulders," he murmured, his voice rough. "You don't have to do it alone."

For a moment, the world outside the stronghold faded away. Seraphina felt the heat of his body, the steady rhythm of his breath. She leaned in, just slightly, enough for her lips to hover near his.

His hand slid to the small of her back, pulling her closer,

until their bodies were almost flush. The heat between them was undeniable, an electric pull that neither could resist any longer.

"Seraphina," Damian murmured, his voice husky, his breath ghosting against her lips. "Tell me to stop if you don't want this."

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, her resolve slipping as her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. "I don't want you to stop," she whispered, her voice trembling but sure.

The words were all he needed. His lips captured hers in a searing kiss, one that sent a jolt of magic coursing through her veins. It was more than just a kiss—it was a merging of energies, of unspoken desires finally breaking free.

Damian's arms wrapped around her, his grip firm yet gentle as he pulled her even closer. The world around them disappeared, the weight of their responsibilities momentarily forgotten. His lips moved with practiced ease, coaxing a soft sigh from her as her body melted into his.

Seraphina's hands slid up his chest, her fingers brushing against the taut muscles beneath his shirt. She could feel the restrained power in him, the way he held back even as his touch grew bolder. It was intoxicating, and she didn't want it to end.

His mouth left hers, trailing heated kisses along her jawline and down the curve of her neck. Each press of his lips sent a shiver down her spine, her magic reacting instinctively to his presence. She felt the shard in her hand pulse, its glow intensifying, as though it, too, were caught up in the moment.

"You're incredible," Damian murmured against her skin, his voice rough with emotion. "Do you even realize what you do to me?"

Seraphina's breath hitched as his words ignited a fire deep within her. She tilted her head back, giving him more access as her hands tangled in his hair. "Show me," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Damian growled low in his throat, his restraint slipping as his hands roamed over her back, down her sides, exploring every curve with reverence. His lips returned to hers, the kiss deeper, hungrier this time.

For a moment, they were lost in each other, their magic mingling and sparking around them like a storm. The intensity of the connection was overwhelming, but Seraphina didn't want to stop. She felt alive, completely consumed by Damian's touch, his kiss, his very presence.

But reality came crashing back when a distant voice called her name.

"Seraphina!" Lysandra's voice echoed through the hall, sharp and urgent.

Damian froze, his forehead resting against hers as they both struggled to catch their breath. The moment shattered, but the heat lingered, leaving them both flushed and unsteady.

"We'll finish this later," Damian said softly, his eyes blazing with promise.

Seraphina nodded, her lips still tingling from his kiss. She straightened her tunic and turned toward the sound of Lysandra's voice, her heart still racing.

The fight with Selene wasn't over, and the world wouldn't wait for their desires. But now, Seraphina knew one thing for certain—whatever battles lay ahead, she wouldn't face them alone. And when the time was right, she and Damian would pick up where they left off.