SERAPHINA’S POV
I sit alone on Artemis's balcony, wrapped in my own arms, staring quietly at the full moon overhead.
My thoughts keep drifting back to that unsettling dream – was it even a dream? - wrestling with the impossibility of making sense of it all.
The only logical explanation I can muster is that I must have sleepwalked—trashed the room and nearly stabbed Artemis as he walked in.
I still can't piece together how that knife ended up in my hands; there are unnerving gaps in my memory.
“Here you go,” Artemis says, reappearing to hand me a bowl of ice cream.
I take it, stirring the chocolate ice cream absentmindedly with my spoon as he sits beside me, digging into his own bowl.
“I'm sorry,” I finally murmur, unable to meet his eyes.
“For what exactly? Trashing my room or
