──────────────⋆˖☽ ​​𝑨 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒏 𝑫𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑳𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 ☾˖⋆──────────────

The scrape of the chair leg against the marble floor was a raw, grating sound in the quiet room. He approached not with a predator’s stalk, but with the weary tread of a man carrying an invisible weight. He folded his long frame into the seat across from me, his movements possessing a fluid grace that was at odds with the harsh noise he’d made. His eyes, the color of old gold, swept over me in a long, deliberate assessment.

“How was Emeric?” a voice scraped from his throat, low and deceptively casual. “Did he… treat you well?”

Ah. So the reassurances had been fake. Despite his placid exterior, he had been worried. I turned my gaze to the window, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a direct answer. I tracked a single raindrop as it traced a lazy, meandering path down the glass. “He was fine.”

He leaned forward, his palms landing flat on the wood, a quiet thunder in the tense air. “Did anything happen?”

The murals swam in my mind’s eye—Emeric’s supposed offering of trust, a history of his people still riddled with convenient holes. I finally met his gaze, letting him see the ice in mine. “No. Nothing happened.”

He tilted his head, a subtle, silent demand for more.

I’m still breathing, I thought with a humor as sharp and bitter as bile. That’s something.

His hands retreated from the table, his fingers knotting together in a gesture of anxiety that he likely thought I didn’t see. “Besides Emeric… are you alright?”

A humorless laugh tore from my throat. I leaned back, creating a deliberate distance between us, the chair groaning in protest under the shift of my weight. “Do you truly need to ask? I’m here, am I not? How do you think I am?”

For the first time, his gaze faltered, dropping away from mine. The silence that stretched between us was thick, heavy with unspoken accusations. He cleared his throat.

“I wanted to explain,” he said, his voice softening as his eyes found mine again. “About what we’re facing. What happened earlier. I imagine you have questions.”

“You mean The Order of the Ashen Vow?”

His composure fractured. The shock that flickered across his features was genuine, a crack in his carefully constructed armor. “How… how did you know that name?”

“Emeric told me,” I said, twisting the knife just a little. “While you were busy handling that… attack.”

He nodded slowly, the mask of calm settling back into place. “And did he tell you that you are safe here? That we know how to handle them?”

He didn’t tell me that. He told me I was just like them.

“I don’t want you to worry,” he insisted, his voice a low murmur. “You are safe.”

The word was so absurd, I laughed again. “Worry about them? I’m more concerned with being trapped in here!” I jabbed a hand toward the door, my voice rising. “I am a prisoner, and I want to leave!”

“You are not a prisoner,” he said, his tone unnervingly calm.

I bit down on the inside of my cheek hard. “But I can’t leave,” I countered, leaning forward again, closing the distance I’d just created. “So what would you call that, if not a prisoner? Hmm?”

His gaze fell to the floor.

“Exactly,” I sneered. “You have no answer. Because that’s what I am, and I don’t even have the courtesy of knowing why.”

“Because you aren’t ready!” The words erupted from him, raw and cracking with a desperation that stunned me into silence.

That was it. The dam broke. I shoved my chair back with such force it crashed to the floor, a shriek of tortured wood echoing in the room. I slammed my hands on the table, leaning into his space, my voice a low, furious snarl. “I’m ready. And even if I’m not, you don’t get to make that choice for me while I’m chained in the dark! You spin in circles—one minute you’re my kind protector, the next you’re a block of ice. Pick one! You tell me dragons aren’t monsters, but I have seen what they do with my own eyes. You have done nothing to prove me wrong.”

The fire in him didn’t just drain; it was extinguished, leaving behind a profound, hollowed-out sorrow that reshaped his face. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

Sorry. He was always so sorry. The word had lost all meaning from his lips.

“I understand your frustration,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. He paused, gathering himself, before offering a truce. “I can show you Luminethra. After the Cursed Moon rises, we will be gone for the night. I will take you in the morning.”

An olive branch. He thought a tour of this cage would still me. My own fury began to cool, replaced by something colder, sharper. Calm down. Use this. I needed to see the layout. The gates. The harbor. I needed to see it all if I was ever going to break out of it.

I took a slow, steadying breath. “The Cursed Moon is tonight? I thought it was tomorrow.”

The fight seemed to drain out of him completely, leaving only exhaustion in his eyes. “No. It’s tonight. We leave to protect who we can.”

The words hit me. We leave. A fragile, treacherous hope unfurled in my chest. Could this be it? My chance? “Am I coming with you?”

“No,” he said, the single word a flat, impassive wall. “You’ll run the first chance you get.”

The protest died on my tongue because it was a lie. He was right. Of course, he was right. I would run and I wouldn’t look back.

His gaze was heavy, pinning me in place. “I will let you come in the future. When things are different. When you are different.”

“I want to come now,” I insisted, though the words felt hollow even to my own ears. “I have always protected the people of Caelfall.” But would I? The memory of their hateful, fearful stares was a cold weight in my gut. I pushed it aside. It doesn’t matter. Helping is all I know how to do.

“Alanah,” he said, his tone a soft but unyielding barrier. “My answer is final. For now, you will stay. My offer to show you Luminethra tomorrow still stands.”

My gaze fell to my wrists, to the raw, chafed skin that was a constant reminder of my station. I looked back up, meeting his eyes.

“Will I be bound?”

His voice was gentle. “Why don’t you sit down?”

My eyes flicked to the overturned chair. With stiff, deliberate movements, I righted it and sat.

“I want you to be able to walk freely, Alanah. Without chains.” He held my gaze, his own reflecting the dimming light from the window. “But I can only do that if I can trust you not to run. I would like to start building that trust.”

Trust. The word was a cruel joke. The lie tasted like ash in my mouth, but I lowered my eyes and forced a note of sincerity into my voice. “I won’t run. I promise. I’ll stay right beside you.”

A warm, deeply weary smile touched his lips. It was a smile that wanted to believe me. “Then you will be unbound.”

His gaze drifted to the window, where a slash of crimson was bleeding across the horizon. He let out a heavy sigh, and in the fading light, I saw for the first time the dark, bruised circles beneath his eyes. They just fought a battle, I realized. And now they’re leaving to fight another. No wonder he looked like a ghost.

“I need to leave,” he said, his voice thick with fatigue. He stood, his golden eyes lingering on me for a moment. “I will post guards at your door. Just a precaution. Celia will check on you later.” He offered another small smile, this one a bit more hopeful. “I will see you in the morning. I think you’ll like Luminethra.”

I simply nodded, offering him nothing.

“Goodnight, Alanah.”

“Goodnight,” I replied. I watched him go, my ears straining until the heavy click of the bolt sliding home echoed in the sudden silence.

The moment he was gone, I was on my feet, pressing my hand to the cool windowpane. The world outside was bathed in the glorious, dying light of a day I hadn’t been allowed to live. A fierce, wild hope ignited within me, a fire in the darkness of my cell.

Tomorrow, I would learn the shape of my cage. And then, I would find the key.

By the next Cursed Moon, I would be gone. I swore it on the dying light.

─────────────────◯ ☽ ◑ ● ◐ ❨ ◯─────────────────

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!