X: Distractions

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My heart raced, a wild drumbeat that had little to do with the sprint I just had or the fear of being caught. I had returned to my cold, bleak home, seeking refuge from the sudden wave of panic that had gripped me. I hung my cloak by the door, the fabric heavy with the weight of my anxiety, and removed the scarf from my face, inhaling deeply in an attempt to steady my frayed nerves. A cold sweat trickled down my brow as I raked my fingers through my hair, desperately trying to regain some semblance of control.

I couldn’t have felt scared. It was impossible. He didn’t know who I was, and there was no reason to run. But the shock had seized me; I hadn’t expected him to be there. When I glimpsed him out of the corner of my eye, instinct took over, and all rational thought fled. I should have remained calm, perhaps feigned being lost or simply resting by the river bank. He might have believed me. But my flight had painted me as suspicious, and for what?

“Get rid of those distractions!” the king had commanded earlier. Yet how could I eliminate distractions that seemed to seek me out at every turn, even in a tavern filled with laughter and merriment?

When he finally caught me, my mind raced with the thought that I should have killed him. But that would have been reckless. The prince dying under mysterious circumstances in the woods would unravel the entire plan. The king wanted the royal family intact, and I couldn’t jeopardize that.

Instead, I had struck him—a quick, instinctive punch that sent him to the ground, his expression one of surprise and pain. It felt like a fitting response at the time. Yet I hadn’t anticipated his pursuit; who would have thought he’d chase after me, even after that?

Somehow, I managed to escape—barely. The thought of him discovering my true intentions sent shivers down my spine. If he had found out everything, it would have meant ruin. All I had worked for would be wasted.

I reflected on what was truly at stake. It was everything for me. I needed that crystal, the key to my freedom, the pathway back home. But despite the danger, I found myself drawn back to his bedroom window mere moments later, compelled to ensure he was okay. To my relief, he still hadn’t returned home. Perhaps that was fortunate; no one would suspect a raven. Still, the risk loomed in my mind, and I weighed the odds carefully.

Collapsing into my armchair, I felt my breath gradually return to normal. It usually didn’t take me this long to recover. Now that I thought about it, I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this exhausted. I attributed it to the time spent outside in the blinding sunlight—an illumination I had always despised. That had to be it.

As I leaned back, I gazed at the ceiling, letting my thoughts drift. I lost track of time, the line between wakefulness and sleep blurring until I could no longer remember when the darkness of my surroundings transitioned into the darkness of my dreams. My mind swirled with images, both familiar and frightening, as I succumbed to the quiet embrace of slumber, unaware of what awaited me when I awoke.

Author's note: Another short chapter. I'm sorry. But my creativity is a bit low currently

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