Enid thought it was over. In the echoing silence he left behind, she believed his disappearance was a prelude to her being thrown out, locked in a dungeon, or worse, killed. But her reprieve was shockingly brief, lasting not even thirty minutes. She was lying on the cold marble floor, weakened by a deep, gnawing hunger that twisted her insides, when the very air in the room grew dense and cold, signaling his return. On feeling his oppressive presence, she scrambled to sit up immediately, pushing past her dizziness with every ounce of strength she could muster.
"Stand up," he commanded, his voice a flat, uncompromising order.
Her stomach chose that moment to emit a loud, pathetic cry of hunger, a stark protest of its emptiness. But he didn't care at all; there wasn't even a flicker of acknowledgment in his glacial expression. Enid felt a fresh wave of tears well up, a desperate sob building in her throat, but she choked it back. What if I really get killed for crying? she thought, terrified. She had lost count of how many times she had felt death close today, and it still hadn't ended. What exactly did this cold, terrifying man want? That was the larger question, or was it solely, obsessively, about what happened at Gultra?
"Strip," he said, the word dropping into the room like a stone.
She looked at him in utter shock, her arms instinctively crossing over her chest. "I... please, I am still a minor! Pardon me, please!" she cried, her voice shrill with panic and shame.
Annoyance, sharp and immediate, surfaced in his cold gaze. He had no patience for her protests. Without a word of ceremony, he moved with blinding speed. His hand shot out, seizing the threadbare fabric of her rag dress. With a single, brutal yank, he ripped the garment from her body, leaving her in nothing but her dirty, torn underwear. A piercing scream tore from her throat, raw with humiliation. She crumpled to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees, trying to shield her exposed body as hot, shameful tears streamed down her face. She couldn't care any less if he killed her now; the violation was complete.
But he did not do anything further, nothing like the assault she had feared. Instead, his piercing blue eyes were fixed intently on her back. There, etched into her skin just between her shoulder blades, was a glowing white tattoo of some intricate, ancient scripture, a mark she had never known was there, its lines pulsing with a soft, ethereal light. Seeing this, his eyes returned to their state of calm, detached satisfaction. Without a word of explanation or apology, he simply vanished again, leaving her alone in the aftermath of her violation.
Enid immediately scrambled for the tattered remains of her rags, clutching the fabric to her body as she curled into a ball on the floor. Her tears were wild and unrestrained now, like a dam had finally, completely broken, each sob a silent scream of confusion, fear, and profound humiliation.
---
Outside, Ezra strolled down the luxurious, ominous hallway. It was a grand passage of polished black marble that reflected the dim light like a starless night sky, adorned with deep violet tapestries embroidered with silver sigils that seemed to shift when not directly observed. The air itself hummed with a dense, malevolent aura, and every step of his boots echoed with an eerie, precise elegance. The hall was filled with the silent, gliding forms of shadow servants attending to unseen tasks. These particular servants had pulsing purple veins visible beneath their translucent skin, and they each froze and bowed deeply from the waist as Ezra walked by, a gesture of absolute respect.
He walked directly to a cloaked figure standing motionless at the end of the hallway, a presence even more ancient and still than the others. "She's the one," Ezra stated, his voice devoid of triumph, merely stating a fact. "You can stop searching."
The figure made a full, formal bow, its form seeming to ripple with the motion. "It has been an honor to help you find your soul guide, My Lord. I shall now return to sleep until I am needed again," it intoned, its voice like the rustling of dead leaves. As soon as the words were spoken, the figure dissolved, melting into the dark marble of the floor without a trace.
The moment it was gone, a different shadow servant, the same one with blue veins, the one who had gone to pick Enid from the settlement office suddenly appeared by Ezra's side. Ezra gave no reaction; it was as if he had summoned the creature with a thought.
"Brimly, at your service, my Lord," the blue-veined servant whispered, its voice a low hum.
"Send Sarah to take care of her," Ezra said, offering no further details.
And with that, he stepped into a pool of deeper shadow between two torches and was gone.