Tangled Fates

Chapter 8 Lila

Enough.

With that single, pulse-quickening thought, I kicked away the suffocating blankets. My bare feet whispered across the cold floor, the sensation a stark reminder of the countless nights spent pacing like a caged creature. But tonight, I would not pace. Tonight, I would venture into this castle and plan my escape.

The door opened with a reluctant groan, protesting my silent escape. I slipped through, leaving behind the false comfort of my quarters for the labyrinthine servant corridors. A shiver of anticipation chased away the chill of the stones as I entered the bowels of this fortress, my heart thudding in my ears, one of the few sounds I am granted in my world.

The corridors knew secrets, their shadows dancing with the flickering light of distant torches. I followed their murky contours, my senses straining against the void. Each step was deliberate, echoing the fierce determination that propelled me forward.

A musty smell of dust filled my nostrils, accompanied by the faint lingering aroma of past meals. With each step, I felt the air shift around me, serving as my guide through the winding corridors. Without a map or a guide, my only compass was my primal instinct, a wolf's intuition honed by survival.

A rogue shadow shifted, beckoning me to turn. I obeyed, navigating by the language of darkness, a tongue I had learned to speak fluently. I found an unexpected kinship with the unseen, the unspoken. We shared a bond, the shadows and I, one of concealment, of silent understanding.

I halted, my breath catching. The corridor ahead seemed to stretch, its end swallowed by nothingness. Yet it was not fear that held me, it was courage. Freedom was close. I could feel it in the cool draft that tousled my hair, in the shifting patterns of light and shadow that played upon the walls.

A scent more potent than the musty air hit me, a wafting perfume of herbs and warmth that cut through the chill. My heart quickened as I followed the aroma to its source.

I pushed open a large door and emerged into a vast chamber, the castle's kitchen, a grand space where iron pots hung like unmoving guards above cold hearths. The sight of it was both unexpected and gratifying. Moonlight spilled through high windows, silver beams casting a glow upon the slumbering domain.

My stomach clenched, a reminder of the hunger that gnawed at me. It had been a companion for so long, this emptiness, but no longer. Amidst the towering stacks of burlap sacks filled with grain and the aroma of cured meats hanging from the ceiling, I found a moment of peace.

With hands that belied my eagerness, I set about gathering provisions. I chose with care, selecting bread that promised comfort with its softness, and cheese that teased richness even in the darkness. My fingers brushed against the fruit, the skins cool and smooth, promising sweetness within. Water was a necessity, but wine was the nectar of the gods. Wine, I grasped a bottle, its glass cool in my palm, the promise of fire on my tongue, of nights dancing beneath the moon's glow. Dear gods, when was the last time I had wine?

I knew I couldn't just indulge in this bounty for the moment. I had to save some for the future, for when I returned to my chamber, for when I escaped. Each delicious item was protection against the inevitable hunger that would return. But as I reached for more, a nagging sense of caution held me back. Taking too much food could reveal my presence and bring about consequences. So, I only took what I needed to satisfy my immediate cravings, to tame the ravenous beast within me.

My movements were swift, my eyes ever-watchful for the signs of intruders. The kitchen, though quiet, was not mine alone. It belonged to the castle, to the numerous souls who drifted through it like ghosts.

Clutching the icy handle of the knife provided a sense of relief. As I cut through the bread, the sound of each slice amplified the frantic beating of my pulse. It wasn't hunger that caused my rush, but the fear of being caught.