──────────────⋆˖☽ ​​𝑩𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝑶𝒏𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕 ☾˖⋆──────────────

The mural of Enkarthos liquefied before my eyes. The lush landscapes bled into a vortex of color, dissolving the stone wall and pulling me through. The scent of incense violently replaced by the sweet, heavy perfume of a thousand wildflowers. Pine needles pricked the air with a clean, sharp fragrance.

My mind screamed, a frantic, silent litany of how, but a profound and terrifying wonder silenced it. High above, blazing in a sky of beautiful cobalt, was the sun. It was not the pale, mythical disc from the old stories; it was a living, breathing furnace, and its warmth was a forgotten language on my skin. Tears welled, blurring a world so vibrant it was almost painful to behold. There was no miasma, no oppressive, ever-present haze—only light and color.

I raised my hands to shield my eyes from the glorious onslaught, but they weren’t there. A phantom limb, an echo of a command. I could feel them, could will my fingers to clench, but where my hands should have been, there was only empty air shimmering in the heat. A cold spike of panic pierced the wonder, my pulse a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

Then, a voice rumbled not to me, but from me. It was a deep, ancient tremor that resonated in my bones, commandeering my own chest and lips. The words were unfamiliar, a melody of desperate urgency.

“They grow restless,” the voice lamented, my own throat shaping the foreign sounds. “What can be done to soothe them?”

A second voice, just as ancient, spoke from the air beside me. “We must depart. Find refuge. We are tasked to protect ourselves—and the others.” I whipped my head toward the sound, but saw only the sway of tall grass.

“And you suggest we run?” A third presence shimmered into being on my other side, distorting the air like heat rising from sun-baked stone.

My own mouth opened, a puppet on a string. I tried to clamp a hand over it—a useless, incorporeal gesture. The voice inside me forced the words out. “No!” it snapped, the sound sharp with an indignation I did not feel. “Flight will not calm them! It will only prove their fears are justified. We cannot abandon them!”

The voices erupted into a dissonant argument, their words stretching and bending blurring the edges of comprehension. The sun-drenched world tilted violently, the life-giving warmth leaching away to be replaced by a familiar, sterile chill. The field, the sun, the sky—it all shattered.

I was back in the chamber, my palm still pressed flat against the cool, unmoving stone of the mural.

I snatched my hand back, a choked gasp tearing from my throat. I stumbled away, my heel catching on nothing, and landed hard on the floor. My eyes darted around the silent, torch-lit room, searching for any lingering trace of that other world. Was it real? Is this the true nature of the curse I carry?

A shadow fell over me. Emeric was crouching, his face a mask of bored disapproval. “Another one of your performances?” he asked, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. “Whatever you hope to gain with this display, it will not work. Get up. You’re in a sacred place.”

“I—” The word crumbled to dust in my mouth. Using the wall for support, I shakily pushed myself to my feet, my legs feeling like hollow reeds. There is no way I can tell him. He would think me insane.

“We are done here,” Emeric snapped, his patience worn to a thread. He uncoiled a length of rope from his belt, the motion practiced and efficient. “I brought you here against my better judgment, and you repay me with this… stunt.” He shook his head in disgust.

“How much time… has passed?” I croaked, my throat raw.

“Time?” He let out a short, humorless scoff. “No time has passed. You touched the mural, you collapsed. It was instantaneous.”

Instantaneous.

The word struck me like a physical blow. Every muscle in my body went rigid. The sun, the voices, the time spent in that field of wildflowers—all of it had transpired in the space between one breath and the next. I stared at him, searching his impassive face for any flicker of a lie.

His expression was no longer just annoyed; it had become cold, clinical. “Hold out your hands. Now.”

My hands trembled as I extended them, the shaking born not of fear of him, but from the aftershock of a world that had felt more real than this one. This is real, the thought echoed in the sudden, terrifying emptiness of my mind. That was not.

The rough fibers of the rope bit into my wrists. He pulled the knot tight with a merciless tug that yanked me back to the present. He strode to the door and pulled it open, gesturing with his head. “Let’s go. Be grateful your little act didn’t earn you a much worse fate.”

I followed in a daze, my head bowed, the marble floor blurring beneath my feet. The world was muted, distant, though the angry tension in the rigid set of his shoulders was impossible to ignore. I retreated inward, desperately trying to grasp the vision, to make sense of the disembodied voices and the impossible sun. But logic found no purchase, leaving only a coiling, cold dread—the fear that reality could fracture again at any moment, that the veil between my mind and the world was dissolving.

My daze was shattered by a jarring impact as I walked directly into Emeric’s back. He had stopped dead. I stumbled back, my head snapping up. He turned slowly, and his green eyes burned with a fierce, contained fire.

“Pay attention,” he growled, his voice a low warning.

“Yes… sorry,” I whispered, the apology automatic, hollow. I didn’t have the strength for defiance, not even for the simple mind games he expected.

For a sliver of a moment, the hard line of his jaw slackened. A flicker of something other than contempt—confusion? concern?—crossed his features before being ruthlessly suppressed. His lips pressed into a firm line. Without another word, he turned on his heel and resumed his stiff march down the hall.

The silence between us was a suffocating weight. When we reached the room, he pushed the door open, shutting it with a definitive thud that sealed us in.

“Hands,” he ordered, his voice flat once more.

I held them out. In stark contrast to his earlier roughness, his fingers were now deft and efficient as they worked the knots. When the ropes fell away from my chafed wrists, he spoke again, his voice low and commanding. “You will not speak of what happened today. To anyone.”

“Why?” I asked, looking up at him.

A slow, cruel smirk spread across his lips. “Because no one would believe you. And besides,” he shrugged, taking a deliberate step closer, his presence filling the small room, “who would take your word over mine? Especially after our… misunderstanding last night.” His smile widened, becoming predatory. “Remember the pleasure of breathing? I can be persuaded to take it from you again. Permanently.”

The memory flashed—the crushing pressure of his hands, the black spots dancing in my vision. I flinched, taking a step back.

“I won’t say anything,” I said quickly, turning away to the narrow window. It was my only escape. “Besides,” I muttered to my own ghostly reflection in the glass, “there’s no one to tell.”

Outside, an eerie calm had fallen over the bay. The battle was over. Plumes of black smoke coiled into the grey, bruising sky from the broken hulls of ships, but the sounds of fighting had ceased. The sky mirrored the tension in the room, dark storm clouds gathering with a silent, brooding menace.

A sharp knock at the door made me jump.

The door creaked open, revealing a figure in the dim hallway. It was Celia, rain-soaked and trembling, strands of blonde hair plastered to her cheeks. She leaned against the doorframe, her breath coming in ragged pants as if she’d run through the heart of the storm itself.

“Alanah? Are you alright?” she asked, her voice strained with worry.

“I’m fine,” I said slowly, my brow furrowing. “Are you?”

“Fine. I was… helping on the beach.” Her eyes darted past me and landed on Emeric. Her expression hardened instantly into a mask of pure hostility. “You can leave,” she said, her voice clipped and sharp. “I’ll watch her.”

The change in her was jarring. What could have possibly happened between them?

Emeric didn’t move. He simply crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Go get changed. Then you can come back. But you won’t be watching her alone.” His cold gaze swept over Celia’s small, drenched frame in a dismissive, insulting appraisal. “I don’t trust her not to try something. And I certainly don’t trust you to handle her if she did.”

He isn’t wrong. I could handle her easily, the thought slithered into my mind, cold and unwelcome. I pushed it away, moving to the bed and collapsing onto the mattress as the door clicked shut, leaving Emeric and me alone once more. I buried my face in the pillow, a long, frustrated sigh shuddering through me.

Time blurred. Eventually, Celia returned, dry and dressed in simple maids clothing. The scrape of a chair leg on the floor announced Emeric rising. “I’ll be right outside,” he warned, his voice a low rumble directed at me, before he stepped out, closing the door softly behind him.

Celia scurried to my bedside, her wide, worried eyes scanning my face. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Her sincerity was so out of place in this world of stone and suspicion that it felt like a trap.

“He didn’t,” I said, my gaze shifting to the wall. “We just talked.”

A small, disbelieving giggle escaped her. “I find that hard to believe, knowing him. But… I understand. You barely know me.” She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I like you, Alanah. You seem… different. Especially compared to most people here.”

Her last words snagged my attention, pulling me from my weary haze. “What did you just say?”

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𝓓𝓸𝓷’𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓪𝓭𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓫𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓽𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓵𝓲𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓻𝔂 𝓼𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾’𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓭𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓼. 𝓐𝓼 𝓪𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼, 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓼𝓾𝓹𝓹𝓸𝓻𝓽!