A Court of Stars and Dust

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖔

My heart thunders painfully against my rib cage, threatening to burst out of me as I scurry away from the door, feeling almost as though I might go into cardiac arrest. When the door clicks shut again, I wince outwardly. It doesn't lock again, but I still want to slap myself for even risking it. Hands shaking and eyes brimming with unshed tears, I rip the door open once more and step out before I can find a way to convince myself it's a bad idea.

The only way I can describe how I'm feeling is numb—a relieved kind of numbness, something I don't recall ever experiencing before. For the first time in so long, I can feel real carpet beneath my feet—warm and soft between my toes. It almost feels like the start of one of my nightmares, like it's all going to melt away in a second and I'll wake up back in my cell, behind a locked door. But there aren't any eyes watching me from the walls, and there aren't any guards appearing from around corners with swords. 

It's just...an empty hallway.

From inside, I could have sworn the entire building was made out of concrete, but from the outside, it actually looked like a home—granted a scary home, but a home regardless, with paintings and family portraits hung on the hallway walls. There are signs of life here, right outside the room I've been held against my will for almost fifty years, and it unsettles me. The only thing that seems not out of place is the giant blood stain on the carpet outside the door.

I take a slow, careful step down the hallway, cringing as the wood under the carpet creaks under my weight, and tense, bracing myself for any traps. They never come, and I can't help my mind from wandering away from me, wondering what I'm supposed to do now. 

If I manage to get out of here without being seen, run away without someone catching me, and find my way back home, what am I supposed to do with my life? I've been gone for so long that I have no idea what's changed out there. My old camp might have been demolished for all I know. What if I can't adapt to a new environment—or worse, what if I can't adapt at all?

Get out first, plan your future later...

That's the moment I realise I've unwittingly let hope for my future back in—and it feels incredible. I take another step, then start jogging—admittedly, very slowly—down the hall, and stop in front of another door. My heart skips with joy as it opens easily and quietly, letting me step through. But then it stops dead with horror as I take in the scene before me. Around a large wooden table in the middle of the room, sits a group of people.

Two Illyrian males sit at the table, their faces vaguely familiar, though I can't quite recall their names or when I've seen them before. One wears glowing blue crystals on his wrists—siphons, I quickly recognise them as—and the other has blood-red crystals. At the end of the table sits a short, angry-looking female who, to be completely honest, is more intimidating and threatening than everyone else in the room combined. She seems disinterested in what's happening around her.

And then finally, my eyes land on the High Lord of the Night Court, looking very... High Lordy. Maybe even a little scary from where he sits—or it might simply be the reality of where we are that makes him appear so frightening to me.

I spin on my heel, trying to run back into the hallway and search for another exit before they can put me in another cell, but the door slams shut right in front of me. It takes me a second too long to realise what's happened, and I crash into the door, stumbling backward as my head smacks against the wood. I fall onto my already sore wings and bite my tongue to stay quiet.

I push myself into a sitting position and shuffle backward until my back is pressed against the closed door. Everyone stares at me with pity in their eyes, as if I were an injured animal—honestly, I don't feel like much more than that. "Please don't lock me up again," I whisper, my voice cracking. It's the most I've spoken at once in quite a while.