Into the Void

6) The Veil of Reality

Xena's POV

Kieth dismissed me with a flick of his hand, not even sparing me a glance. Almost instantly, a guard seemed to materialize beside me, causing a startled yelp to escape my lips.

"Escort the lady to her room, Ian," Kieth ordered, his voice cold and detached.

The guard, Ian, was imposing—at least six feet tall and solidly built, his armor gleaming under the light. This time, without his helmet, I could see more of him. Hazel-brown hair framed his face, and his striking green eyes caught the light. But what drew my attention most was the deep, jagged scar that marred his face, cutting diagonally from just above his eyebrow across his cheekbone. It gave him a hardened, dangerous air.

Ian bowed slightly. "Yes, my lord," he responded, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

Turning to me, he said, "Follow me, my lady."

The trip to my room was short, but the tension in the air was palpable as I silently followed Ian's broad back down the dim corridor.
As we approached my room, a massive mahogany door loomed before me, its surface intricately adorned with silver vines twisting gracefully around it. Fist-sized rubies were embedded into the wood, catching the dim light and giving the door an almost regal, otherworldly feel.

"I'll assign a maid to you, my lady," Ian announced, his voice still carrying that same monotone, as if this was all routine.

Stepping inside, I was immediately enveloped by the room's strange, unsettling aura. It felt like a world suspended between the past and the present, as though time itself had forgotten this place. Tall, arched windows allowed only slivers of light to enter, casting long shadows over the towering bookshelves that lined the walls, filled with ancient, worn tomes. A large oak desk dominated the center of the room, cluttered with quills, ink pots, and parchment. Flickering candles in a wrought-iron chandelier above added a haunting glow to the already somber atmosphere.

The air was thick with the scent of old paper and aged wood, the only warmth coming from the crackling fire in the hearth. It was a room steeped in intellect and secrets, a sanctuary for contemplation yet oppressive in its silence—both a haven and a suffocating prison.
As I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to shake the feeling that I might still be dreaming, a soft knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts and back to reality.

"Come in," I called out, my voice barely above a whisper.

A small, delicate figure stepped into the room—one of the maids. She moved with quiet grace, her voice soft as she spoke. "My lady, I've brought some clothes for you to change into," she said, her tone gentle and unassuming.

It was only then that I glanced down at what I was wearing—a pair of baggy jeans and a crop top. I suddenly realized just how out of place I must seem in this world, like a misplaced piece of another puzzle.

The maid held out the clothing—a beautiful white linen dress with delicate gold embroidery tracing elegant patterns all across it. The fabric felt luxurious, soft beneath my fingers. It fell just below my knees, modest yet graceful, with sleeves that puffed out slightly, covering my hands in a way that felt both regal and comforting.

I took a deep breath, the weight of this unfamiliar world settling over me once more as I prepared to change into something that would make me blend in, even if I still felt like I didn't belong.

The maid appeared to be around my age, with dusky skin that gave her a warm, earthy glow. Her thick, long black hair flowed down her back in soft waves, framing her delicate features. Every person I had encountered in this place seemed like they had stepped straight off the cover of a Vogue magazine, and she was no exception.

"What's your name?" I asked hesitantly, unsure if it was even appropriate to ask.

She blinked in surprise, as if she hadn't expected the question, before offering a small, apologetic smile. "Alphine," she said softly, bowing her head slightly, almost as if embarrassed for not introducing herself sooner.

I smiled back, feeling a sense of warmth from her. "I think we'll get along," I said, more to myself than to her, though her quiet demeanor and gentle presence made me feel a little less like an outsider in this strange, mysterious world.