Denial of the Whisper

Chapter Thirty.

Chapter Thirty.

Two days passed, no one picked me up for training, no one brought me books, no one came by. Food was being placed on a tray and pushed inside my room, but that was the only thing that had happened so far. Srandi came by quite early the first morning to check on my head, but she didn't talk with me at all. And that hurt.

And the others? I'd seen none of them.

No Dylana, no Brayhd.

Not even Caaln came by.

But Nyshard... I felt him.

I felt his aura, and just like it had in Caaln's room, it pressed down on me. It was dark, it was cold, it was depressing.

And it only darkened my mood even more.

The worst of it was, that I... kind of understood him. Not his whole behaviour, not how he'd been that gentle and almost caring, and then that cold the next minute. But... locking me in, from his point of view, I understood why he thought it necessary. But being locked up, especially without anything to do, it already drove me insane. It left me alone with my thoughts and with everything I had wanted to flee from that night.

My mother hadn't told me the truth, but she'd died protecting me.

Nyshard had told me the truth, but I had... betrayed his trust. He thought I had wanted to flee Ilyria and that I had undermined all his attempts to keep me safe from whatever there was. He had told me not to leave the house alone, but I did. And now, he'd locked me in, like the prisoner I truly was.

I debated every now and then if he would let me apologize. I wanted to tell him, that I hadn't wanted to flee at all, that I had just wanted to... flee the darkness of my room and maybe also flee the dreams in which my mother told me things I didn't understand.

But Nyshard... from his aura, I knew that he was around somewhere, even though I wasn't sure why I even felt his aura like that, and simply guessed I felt it because he didn't try to pull it back into himself because he was still that pissed at me. Maybe, he wanted to let me know how angry he still was with me.

And on the other hand, ... I doubted it would do any help. I had left the house when he had told me not to, and he had even told me why: I was a young weak woman, a halfling, in a town full of Fleyr. I had screwed up. Royally.

But... again. What right did Nyshard have to judge over my freedom anyways? What right did he have to tell me what I should do at all? Whenever that thought crossed my mind, I got angry at him. Angry at him for locking me in, for telling me what to do, and also, for still not telling me more. He was responsible. And whenever that thought arose, I pushed everything Dylana and Brayh told me that one morning about him taking the responsibility and the blame willingly, away.

And had I been busy before, I now had too much time to think, too much time to be angry, then sad, then depressed, and then angry again about the death of my mother. It was a whirlwind of emotions, and I was alone with it.

Only now I realised, how much I had gotten used to the company of the others, of having someone to talk to. Only now that I knew what it was like to have people surrounding me, that actually didn't look weirded out while talking to me, I missed it. I missed Caaln, Dylana and Brayhd. And sometimes I even missed Nyshard. Not the one, who had locked me in, no, the one that had talked with me in the City under the City, that had told me to be friends with Caaln because he would never hurt me and was trustworthy.

I thought about it, over and over again for two days, still lying in my bed even though I hadn't slept at all. Until someone knocked at my door.

"Yes.", I said, my voice rough from the lack of use.