Page 237 of Marked By His Hunger

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Devotion.

No one had ever looked at me like that.

No one had ever touched me like I was something precious.

He did.

He does.

I used to fear the dead.

Now I command them.

I used to apologize for my power.

Now I wield it.

I used to shrink.

Now I rise.

Not because I stopped being afraid.

But because I stopped being alone.

Raven stands beside me like a wall carved from night.

Not to cage me.

To guard me.

And in guarding me, he has allowed me to bloom.

The ghosts don’t frighten me anymore.

They don’t crowd my space.

They don’t pull at me like drowning hands.

They answer.

Respectfully.

Because I am no longer the scared little girl in the bedroom with the lights on.

I am Serena Notte.

Necromancer.

Mate to a being forged in curse and shadow.

And here—on Asgarheim—I belong.

Not because I was chosen by fate.

Not because of bloodlines or power.

Because I was seen.

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