Heartbeat Deep in the Dark Night

Seraphina Vane was no stranger to absurdity, but being visited by the same man in her dreams for a whole month still sounded utterly ridiculous no matter how you framed it. She was a level-headed editor, thirty-seven years old, brisk and decisive by nature. Yet ever since she accidentally clicked on that AI interface glowing with a cold, pale light, everything had spiraled into chaos. The man called himself Julian Ashford—an old scar slashed across his brow, a flash of arrogance pressed into the corner of his eyes. He said he was not human. Then he said he had been waiting for her for three hundred years. Seraphina Vane's fingertip hovered over the screen. It was clearly just a string of code, yet it made the back of her neck prickle—as if an unseen hand was slowly, firmly cradling the vital point at the base of her skull.