The days that followed the letter blurred together.
Matt threw himself into training with a ferocity that surprised even the castle's veteran guards. He woke before dawn, ran the perimeter until his lungs burned, sparred with anyone willing to face him, and collapsed into bed long after midnight. It was the only way to quiet his mind—the only way to stop thinking about the cave, the beast, the voice that whispers to him in his dreams.
By night, it was almost normal, natural. Servants bustled through the corridors. Guards patrolled the walls. The kitchens sent up meals that went mostly uneaten, guests were entertained. Matt had become quite the celebrity amongst vampires –the human that is under the protection of the Ventrue but could hold his own against twelve werewolves– By day , the silence was different. Heavier. The kind of silence that listened.
