Veiled Whispers

Ch.10 - The Writer

Lily

The words hung in the air, a specter of disbelief. “Val?” The name was a whisper, a ghostly invocation that seemed to ripple through the night. Theo’s confirmation was a chilling affirmation. “Yeah, plain as the day. With his hat as crooked as his smile.” But as the carousel spun, the figure vanished, leaving behind an empty saddle and a haunting void.

A torrent of thoughts crashed over me—Val, the prince from the diary, Theo’s enigmatic friend. It was too much, an array of revelations that left my mind reeling. And then, the world tilted, the starry sky above spiraling into darkness as I succumbed to the void.

●●●

Theo

Was it Val’s spirit that lingered among us? The question clawed at my mind, a puzzle demanding to be solved. I needed to speak with Mat, but the urgency faded as I turned to find Lily crumpled on the ground, her skin feverish to the touch.

Instinct took over. I lifted her into my arms, weaving through the remnants of the fair, seeking sanctuary. A cab materialized like a beacon in the night, and we left the fair.

The house that awaited us was not mine but a temporary haven—a writer’s abode filled with the echoes of stories untold. I settled Lily on the couch, tending to her with damp cloths and the warmth of homemade soup.

Her awakening was a quiet stir in the stillness. “Where am I?” she murmured, her voice a fragile thread. “My house. You passed out at the fair,” I explained, offering support as she attempted to rise.

Her request for water was a whisper of vulnerability. I obliged, returning with sustenance and a gentle urging. “You should eat something, or you might faint again.” She accepted without protest, her thoughts already adrift to the search party that must be scouring the night for her.

●●●

Lily

Theo’s departure left me alone with my thoughts and the room’s silent watch. The house was unassuming for a duke, a testament to the mundane. My curiosity drew me to a closed door, behind which lay a sanctuary of literature—a library that breathed the scent of aged parchment and whispered tales.

The room was a chaotic symphony of books and papers, a writer’s sacred chaos. Theo’s voice broke the spell. “Ah, I see you have found the library. Feel free to browse. Don’t mess with it, cause it’s technically not mine.”

“Then whose is it?” I inquired, my heart racing as he revealed the owner’s identity—Raide Nori, the literary artisan whose words had often been my solace.

"I informed your mother that you're here. She insisted that I only accompany you home it you're well enough. Its not as snazzy as your castle but you're welcome to spend the night here."
Theo’s news of my family’s indifference to my absence was met with a scoff. His offer to escort me home was tempting, yet the allure of the unknown beckoned. This was my first taste of freedom, a night unshackled from the castle’s confines.

His patience was a silent question, awaiting my decision. With a newfound boldness, I inquired, “Where can I freshen up?”