The silence of dawn enveloped the room like a thick, almost sacred veil.
The moon remained there, high and white, observing everything from the opening in the ceiling. Its light descended like liquid thread, marking each corner that the castle had shaped for Eliza... as if it had been waiting for her since before she was born.
Eliza couldn't stay seated.
Not after what Damian had told her.
Not after what she had felt in her chest, that storm with no name.
Not after the guilt that squeezed her heart like an invisible claw.
She stood up clumsily.
Her legs protested at the first step; her body was still numbed by the drink Damian had given her.
But her mind...
Her mind was a whirlwind that left no room for rest.
She took a deep breath.
And began to walk.
The room was so large that her steps echoed as if she were advancing through an ancient temple, one built not by human hands, but by something older, more conscious.
She went first toward the crystal wall.
