"Come on, let's go," Sarah said, her smile so persistent it made Enid wonder if the woman's face was permanently fixed in that cheerful expression. Despite her chubby build and middle age, Sarah moved with an almost bouncy energy, leading Enid out of the opulent room. The moment they crossed the threshold, a palpable shift in the atmosphere made Enid want to retreat back inside. The air in the corridor was colder, heavier, and thick with a silent, watchful presence.
Sarah, however, seemed undeterred. "Come on," she urged again, her voice a bright contrast to the gloom.
They moved through a sea of shadow guards, their gliding, masked forms lining the hall like floating ghosts. Not a single one turned their head or acknowledged their passing; it was as if Enid and Sarah were utterly invisible despite the noise of Sarah's cheerful chatter and the rustle of Enid's silk gown. The farther they walked, the more the oppressive weight of the air intensified, pressing down on Enid's chest until each breath became a conscious effort.
"Where are we going?" Enid finally asked, her voice a small, strained whisper in the vast, silent corridor.
"Delivering you to the Lord," Sarah replied, her tone still light, as if she were announcing a trip to the market. "You have to be by his side from now on."
Enid's steps faltered. A cold dread seeped into her bones. Wasn't death actually better than this? The thought was a stark, clear truth in her mind. She did not want to be by a devil like Ezra.
"Come on," Sarah repeated, but her own cheerfulness was beginning to wane. The lights had become dimmer, the sconces casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to writhe on the walls. The shadow guards were nowhere to be found in this section, and the atmosphere was so heavy it was almost viscous. Sarah stopped walking, a hint of genuine pain flickering across her kindly face.
"You can continue from here," she said, her voice losing its bounce. "The first door you see down the hall. Knock, and it will open for you." She paused, then added with a forced return of her smile, "I will definitely be there to take care of your bath tomorrow when the Lord is gone." With that, she turned and hurried away, her footsteps echoing then fading quickly, leaving Enid in the profound, suffocating silence.
Enid looked down the long, dark hall. It seemed to stretch into infinity. She swallowed deeply, her throat tight with fear. It took a long moment, gathering every shred of courage she possessed, before she forced her feet to move forward, for some reasons she couldn't feel whatever pain Sarah was feeling, all she felt was cold dread. She hugged her arms across her chest, rubbing at the goosebumps that prickled her skin. The only sound was the whisper of her crimson gown against the cold stone floor.
Finally, she stood before a massive door of dark, polished wood, etched with intricate, unsettling patterns that seemed to shift in the low light. She took another deep, shuddering breath, a plan forming a fragile shield in her mind. She would try to reason with him. She would make him see he had the wrong person. He would have to free her so she could find who or what had truly caused the catastrophe in Gultra.
Just before her trembling hand could touch the wood to knock, the door suddenly swung inward of its own accord. Caught off balance, Enid stumbled forward, crashing into a hard, unyielding wall of flesh. A cold, familiar scent of frost and something ancient filled her senses.
"Already getting into your job, I see," a cold voice remarked from above her.
She jerked backward as if scalded, detaching herself immediately. In her frantic retreat, she stumbled again, stubbing her toe hard against a grotesquely carved piece of furniture nearby. A sharp cry of pain escaped her, her eyes instantly brimming with tears she desperately tried to blink back.
He merely watched her floundering, his expression one of profound dullness, as if her distress was a mildly tedious spectacle.
Gathering every ounce of courage she could muster, her voice trembling but clear, she spoke. "I know you are definitely mistaking me for someone else." He raised a single silver brow, a minute gesture that conveyed immense skepticism. "But... I can find the person that caused what happened at Gultra. Everyone wins. Just let me go, I beg you."
"I wasn't looking for who caused what happened at Gultra," he stated, his voice utterly bland, devoid of any emotion. "I was looking for you."
She stared, utterly dumbfounded. The simplicity of his statement was more terrifying than any complex plot. "That's impossible, Lord... How could your revered self be looking for someone like me? I have nothing. I am nothing."
"That isn't yours to think about," he dismissed her with a flicker of cold finality in his eyes. "All you have to do is adjust to your new job around here. Saedra." The name, ancient and unfamiliar, hung in the air between them. "Your job is to do whatever I ask of you without questions or hesitation. Don't you ever try to run. And you must always be by my side."
The finality of his words, the utter annihilation of her hope, was too much. A sob broke from her, and she began crying again, the tears flowing freely down her cheeks.
"Also," he said, his voice dropping into a darker, more dangerous tone that vibrated through the very stone of the room. "Stop crying."
The command was absolute. She muffled herself immediately, clamping a hand over her mouth, though the tears continued to flow in a silent, helpless stream of misery. He was truly heartless. How could he strip her of everything, her freedom, her future, her very self and expect her not to cry? In her anguish, the strange name he had called her, Saedra sank into her mind without meaning, its significance as lost on her as her own freedom.