After the clash with the assassins, Vaelen's body bore the cost of the Monolith Art.
✦✦✦
The carriage rolled through the gates of the estate, iron bars groaning as they swung open. Lanterns lit the long, cobbled path, their glow trembling over tall hedges and statues worn pale with age.
Velza exhaled, tension loosening only slightly when the looming outline of the mansion emerged through the mist. Its spires clawed at the night sky, windows glinting like watchful eyes.
The carriage slowed with a heavy creak of wood and iron. Horses snorted, hooves striking sparks as they came to a halt before the grand steps.
Velza adjusted her grip on Vaelen's arm. "We're here," she whispered, though his eyes remained closed. His weight pressed heavier against her shoulder, heat radiating faintly through his torn cloak.
The old man swung open the carriage door, his lantern spilling warm light across them. His gaze lingered on Vaelen, then flicked to Velza. "We are here"
Velza nodded, sliding her arm beneath Vaelen's to haul him upright. His boots dragged against the stone, leaving faint streaks of dust and ash behind as she half-carried, half-guided him up the steps.
The mansion doors opened with a low, echoing groan, swallowing them in flickering candlelight and silence.
They stepped inside, the warm glow of candles spilling across polished marble. A maid was already waiting in the entryway, hands clasped tight, her eyes widening at the sight of Vaelen slumped against Velza.
"What happened?" she gasped, hurrying forward.
Vaelen stirred, his lashes fluttering as if waking from a long dream. His voice was rough but steady. "We're… home. Can you please bring me a mana recovery potion?"
"Yes, of course." The maid bowed quickly, though her hands trembled as she wrung the edge of her apron. "While I fetch it, can you take Cireon to the living room—or would you prefer his chambers?"
"Living room," Velza replied firmly.
"Very well." The maid gave one last glance at Vaelen before darting off down the hall.
Velza shifted her stance, bracing his arm across her shoulder more securely. His steps dragged, boots skidding faintly over the polished floor as she guided him past the grand staircase. The mansion seemed too quiet, the faint crackle of torches echoing against the walls as if even the air was holding its breath.
"Stay with me," Velza muttered under her breath, adjusting her grip as his knees buckled slightly. She tightened her arm around his waist, pulling him upright with effort.
The corridor stretched long, lined with oil paintings of past lords whose painted eyes followed their every move. The soft rhythm of Velza's boots against the stone floor mixed with Vaelen's uneven breaths, creating a cadence that seemed to drag time itself forward.
By the time they reached the tall double doors of the living room, Velza's shoulder ached from his weight. She nudged the door open with her knee, guiding him inside. The room greeted them with a warm fire already burning in the hearth, its crackle and glow a stark contrast to the cold silence they carried with them.
Velza lowered him carefully onto a long velvet couch, his head tipping back against the armrest. She lingered close, one hand braced against his chest as though making sure his breaths still came steady.
"I am fine… just mana deficiency is causing me to fade out and in," Vaelen muttered, his voice hoarse, words slurring at the edges.
Velza frowned but didn't move her hand. "Fine or not, you're not moving anywhere."
The sound of hurried footsteps broke the hush of the hall. The maid returned, her breath quickened, a small glass vial clutched carefully between both hands. The liquid inside shimmered faintly, pale blue with flecks of silver that caught the firelight.
"My lord, the potion," she said softly, kneeling at Vaelen's side.
Velza took it from her, uncorking the vial with a sharp twist. A faint herbal tang laced with something metallic drifted into the air, the smell sharp enough to sting her nose. She tilted the vial toward Vaelen. "Drink."
His hand twitched as though to take it, but he lacked the strength. Velza steadied his chin with one hand and pressed the glass to his lips. The liquid slid down his throat in slow sips, glowing faintly against his pale skin as though it carried its own light.
When the last drop was gone, Vaelen exhaled shakily, eyes fluttering open with a trace more clarity than before. A soft hum lingered in the air, the potion's energy seeping into him, chasing away the dull gray of exhaustion that had clung to his features.
The maid dipped her head low. "It will take effect soon. I will bring more if needed."
Velza gave a short nod without looking away from Vaelen.
A few minutes passed. The fire whispered and popped, painting the walls in restless amber. At last, Vaelen stirred, dragging himself upright. He leaned forward, elbows pressed into the table, fingers laced together, gaze shadowed beneath the fall of his hair.
Behind him, the maid's footsteps shifted once, soft against the carpet—yet sharp enough to cut through the silence. Her voice slipped out low and measured:
"So… would you mind telling me what happened?"
The words weren't a servant's curiosity. They weighed too much, dropped into the room like stones in still water.
Vaelen's throat tightened. He didn't turn, only let out a slow, rasping exhale. His mind screamed through the fog of exhaustion, the message clear:
That tone… she's not asking. She's demanding.
Velza's brows knit, her hand brushing toward the hilt at her side, but she held still, eyes flicking between them.
A humorless grin tugged at Vaelen's lips, brittle as glass. He tilted his head just enough that the firelight caught in his tired eyes.
Yeah… I'm a goner.
The clock above the mantle ticked once.
Then again.
Each beat louder.
The air thickened, like the walls themselves were leaning closer, waiting for his answer.
Vaelen suddenly pushed himself up, a half-grin twitching at his lips. "The story is—" He took a step toward the stairs, voice cracking into a rushed excuse. "—I'll go get rested in my room. You can ask Velza what happened. Bye."
And then he ran.
✦✦✦
His boots hammered the marble, every impact ringing too loud in the endless corridors. Shadows warped and stretched across the vaulted ceilings, twisting with each torch he passed. His ragged breaths echoed like whispers chasing him, bouncing back distorted, as if the halls were mocking his escape.
Tapestries swayed though no draft followed. Portraits loomed on the walls, faces that seemed too focused, too present. He could feel them, pressing down. Watching. Judging.
At last, Vaelen reached his chamber and flung himself inside. The door slammed shut, the sound rolling like thunder through the silence.
For a few seconds, he let his back rest against the wood, chest heaving, sweat trailing down his temple. Relief threatened to break through—
"You can tell while you rest."
The voice came from inside.
Vaelen froze, every muscle locking. His head turned slowly, stiff, dread coiling in his gut.
There she was.
The maid sat by the window as though she had always been there, framed by the cold spill of moonlight. The pale glow cut across her face, sharpening her features into something almost otherworldly. The book in her hands was open, but her eyes weren't on it—they were on him.
Unblinking.
Unmoving.
The moonlight seemed to bend toward her, shadows thickening around her chair. Her stillness wasn't human stillness. It was the silence of something that didn't need to breathe.
Vaelen swallowed hard. "...Shit."
The faintest curl touched her lips, not warmth, not kindness—just the barest tilt of satisfaction, like the predator that had let its prey run, only to find it back in its den.