***Cadiz***
The questions multiplied, breeding in the darkness until my thoughts became a tangled web of fear and confusion.
When I finally drifted into slumber near dawn, dreams clawed at me with relentless fury.
Hands reached from shadows, grasping, tearing at my clothes, my skin, my very essence. Faces blurred and shifted, but voices echoed with crystalline clarity, unstable, valuable, null.
I was running through endless corridors while figures pursued me, their footsteps a thunderous drumbeat that matched the racing of my heart.
I woke with a cry caught in my throat, my chest heaving as if I had truly been running. The blankets were tangled around me like restraints, damp with sweat despite the chill in the air. Pale morning light filtered through the curtains, but it brought no comfort.
I needed air. I needed space. I needed to think.
The library drew me as it often did when I felt cornered by circumstances beyond my control. Its silence was softer than the oppressive quiet of my chamber, carrying the familiar scent of parchment and ink, leather bindings and old knowledge. It was the one place in Ravenshollow where I felt almost at peace, where the weight of being unwanted seemed lighter.
I lit a lamp with trembling fingers and sat at one of the long tables, but I could not still my shaking hands enough to open a book.
The words I had overheard circled in my mind like hungry wolves, refusing to be ignored. I pressed my palms against my eyes, fighting the weight of dread that sat heavy in my chest like a stone.
The sound of footsteps broke through the stillness, and my head jerked up in alarm. Raizel was there. He stood in the doorway, tall and composed even in the dim glow of the lamp. Shadows clung to him like a second cloak, yet his presence filled the space more completely than light ever could
For a heartbeat, we simply stared at each other. I wondered what he saw, a frightened boy huddled over a table, pale and shaking? Or something else, something that warranted the careful attention his family seemed to believe I deserved?
"You couldn't sleep?" His voice was low, modulated to blend with the library's hushed atmosphere.
I shook my head, not trusting my voice. "No."
He stepped inside, his boots making soft sounds against the wooden floor. The lamplight caught the angles of his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the pale intensity of his eyes.
For just a heartbeat, his gaze seemed to soften. It was the briefest flicker, but I caught it, the way his eyes lingered on me, as if he saw something in my face that concerned him.
For that moment, it felt as if he might close the distance between us. As if he might offer some word of comfort, some explanation for the fragments of conversation that had shattered my peace.
"You should rest," he said at last, his tone shifting back to the familiar coldness I had grown accustomed to. "The mornings are harsher in this weather."
"I tried," I admitted, my voice barely more than a whisper. It sounded frail even to my own ears, like something that should have been kept hidden.
His hand twitched at his side, and for a wild moment I thought he might reach for me. Thought he might bridge the gap that seemed to widen between us with each passing day. My chest tightened at the possibility, hope and fear warring within me.
But the moment passed like smoke. He drew back instead, and I felt the familiar wall rise between us, higher and colder than before.
"Do not stay here too long," he said, his tone clipped and distant. "The servants will question your presence."
Then he turned and left, his dark cloak trailing softly against the floor like a shadow given form.
I sat alone in the flickering lamplight, watching the shadows stretch and dance across the countless books that surrounded me. My thoughts circled endlessly, relentless and hungry. 'Null omega.' Unstable.' Valuable'. Securing.' The words refused to release their hold on me, clinging to me like thorns.
But stronger than those was the memory of Raizel's eyes in that instant before he retreated behind his walls. A flicker of something human, something that might have been sympathy, concern, even tenderness. Or it might have been nothing at all, a trick of the lamplight, a projection of my own desperate need to find some connection in this cold place.
It stayed in my mind long after he was gone, fragile as a flame in the winter wind, until I
could no longer tell if I had imagined it entirely.