By early spring, Prague had stopped looking like the end of the world.

Not completely.

Entire districts near the cathedral still sat abandoned behind barricades, and some buildings remained frozen exactly as they had collapsed during the Gate breach months earlier. Burn scars stained old stone walls across the city, and people still lowered their voices whenever someone mentioned Saint Vitus Cathedral out loud.

But life had returned anyway.

Humans were annoyingly resilient like that.

Construction crews worked through the mornings rebuilding damaged bridges. Street vendors reopened beside the river. Children played football in alleys that had once been evacuation routes during the eldritch outbreak.

The city refused staying dead.

Seraphina stood near the Old Town market watching two electricians argue loudly over wiring while a bakery owner handed out free pastries to workers nearby.

“You’re staring again.”

Lucien’s voice came from behind her.

She glanced sideways as he approached carrying two paper cups of coffee neither of them technically needed anymore.

Old habits.

God.

The fact he still bought coffee anyway made something warm settle quietly in her chest every single time.

“I’m observing humanity rebuilding civilization through passive aggression,” Seraphina replied. “It’s inspiring.”

Lucien handed her one of the cups.

“It’s Czech construction work. They’ve probably insulted each other affectionately since sunrise.”

Fair honestly.

The market square buzzed with ordinary noise around them. People moved between stalls carrying flowers and bread and newspapers while rainclouds gathered slowly above the rooftops.

Normal.

The word still startled her sometimes.

After everything—

normal still existed.

Seraphina leaned lightly against the stone railing overlooking the square and watched a group of sanctuary volunteers helping repair damaged storefront signs.

Not all of them were human.

That part still felt surreal.

A vampire carpenter argued with a human city official about measurements while an exhausted former hunter translated between them before either side started threatening violence again.

Progress.

Messy progress.

But real.

Lucien followed her gaze quietly.

“The ceasefire held longer than I expected.”

“You say that like optimism physically hurts you.”

“It does occasionally.”

Seraphina snorted softly into the untouched coffee.

The peace agreement between surviving vampire factions and the rebuilt Prague council remained fragile at best. Some hunters still refused cooperating with immortals entirely, while certain vampire houses blamed humans for the Gate catastrophe despite Aldric being spectacularly dead.

Everyone carried grief.

Everyone carried blame.

Still—

people kept trying.

That mattered.

A little girl ran through the market square laughing after escaping her mother’s grip near the flower stalls.

Seraphina’s attention followed automatically.

The child tripped halfway across the cobblestones.

Lucien moved instinctively before the girl even hit the ground.

Too fast.

One second he stood beside Seraphina.

The next he had already caught the child carefully before her knees struck the stone.

The market went quiet immediately.

God.

Seraphina felt the shift ripple through the square.

Fear.

Not panic exactly.

Recognition.

People knew what Lucien was now.

Or at least rumors of it.

The First Vampire.

The creature who shattered the cathedral.

The thing that made eldritch horrors run.

The little girl blinked up at Lucien in surprise from his arms.

Lucien looked vaguely horrified realizing half the market now stared at him like he might accidentally eat a civilian during routine childcare.

Fair concern honestly.

“You’re alright,” he told the girl gently while setting her carefully back onto her feet.

The child nodded once.

Then looked up at his face curiously.

“You talk funny.”

Lucien blinked.

Seraphina nearly choked laughing.

The girl’s mother rushed over immediately afterward looking torn between gratitude and absolute terror.

“Thank you,” she said quickly while grabbing her daughter’s hand. “Sorry. We should go.”

Lucien stepped back immediately giving them space.

Too quickly.

God.

Seraphina noticed the way his expression closed slightly afterward.

Tiny thing.

Still enough.

The woman hurried away with the child, though the little girl twisted around once more before disappearing into the crowd.

“You do realize,” Seraphina said carefully after a moment, “that you just got insulted by a six-year-old.”

Lucien stared blankly ahead.

“I survived eldritch corruption and emotional devastation only to become linguistically offensive.”

“You’ve had a French accent for four hundred years.”

“It’s subtle.”

“It absolutely is not.”

That earned a faint real smile from him.

Good.

The market slowly returned to normal afterward, though people still glanced toward them occasionally.

Some wary.

Some curious.

Some grateful.

Prague no longer knew exactly what to call either of them.

Hunter.

Vampire.

Saviors.

Disasters.

Maybe all four.

Seraphina adjusted the sleeves of her coat slightly and felt another shift ripple through the crowd nearby.

This one sharper.

Focused entirely on her.

Right.

She still wasn’t used to that part.

Most people in Prague knew Seraphina Van Helsing survived the cathedral collapse.

Fewer knew what she became afterward.

Lucien noticed her tension immediately.

“You don’t have to do this today.”

“Yes, I do.”

The answer came softer than she intended.

Lucien studied her quietly.

God.

He always looked at her like he could feel every conflicting emotion moving beneath her skin before she fully understood them herself.

“You already proved something at the cathedral,” he said gently.

“This isn’t about proving it.”

Seraphina stared out across the square again.

A rebuilt city.

Humans and vampires working side by side awkwardly beneath temporary peace.

Children running through streets no longer actively collapsing.

Hope returning slowly despite everything.

“They need seeing me,” she admitted quietly. “Not rumors. Not stories.” Her jaw tightened slightly. “An actual immortal standing in daylight without killing anyone.”

Lucien’s expression softened painfully.

Because he understood immediately what this cost her.

Seraphina spent her whole life being feared for the wrong reasons.

Now she had to willingly step into being feared for the right ones.

A council representative waited near the central fountain surrounded by nervous guards and several journalists holding cameras.

Today’s public reconstruction announcement had been planned carefully. Human leadership wanted people seeing cooperation openly instead of hearing whispers about it afterward.

Symbolism.

Politics loved symbolism.

Cassian called it “trauma with paperwork.”

Also fair.

“You can still leave,” Lucien said quietly.

Seraphina looked up at him.

“And let you handle all the terrifying public appearances alone?”

“I’m objectively better at emotionally alarming people.”

True.

Still—

she shook her head.

“No more hiding.”

The sentence settled between them softly.

Lucien stared at her for several seconds afterward.

Then finally offered his arm toward her with old-fashioned formality that somehow survived literal apocalypse.

“Shall we terrify society together?”

Seraphina laughed under her breath despite the nerves tearing through her chest.

God.

She loved him.

“Always.”

She took his arm.

The moment they stepped fully into the center square, the crowd quieted again.

Not hostile.

Not welcoming either.

Just uncertain.

Cameras lifted slowly.

Whispers spread.

Seraphina felt every heartbeat nearby instinctively now. Fear. Curiosity. Suspicion. Hope.

Human.

Immortal.

Alive.

She stood beside Lucien beneath the gray Prague sky and let people finally see what she had become.

Not monster.

Not martyr.

Not weapon.

Just a girl who survived the end of the world differently than expected.