A Court of Watchful Shadows

Disbelief

Ziláa

~93 days after Hybern~

The noise above me had been relentless for what felt like hours—shouts, crashing doors, the violent thud of heavy footsteps, and the unmistakable sound of bodies colliding. The manor trembled with chaos, the distant cries and clashes echoing down into my cold, dank prison. But none of it mattered. It had been weeks—no, months—since I'd let myself hope. Hope was a dangerous thing, a cruel thing, a thing that only ever left me disappointed and broken every time I dared to cling to it.

The last time I thought I would be saved, I was left to rot alone, my body breaking under the torment Ziven had inflicted, his cruel last words still fresh in my mind. The lashes from the whip were still raw, still stinging, still marking my entire back. The faebane preventing them from healing properly. The hunger gnawed at my insides, a constant companion that never left, leaving my body weaker by the day. I had stopped counting how many days I had gone without proper food. How many times I had been whipped for some minor 'disobedience' or not begging enough, showing enough fear.

But now, it had been four days since Ziven had visited, and I had let myself believe—foolishly—that maybe he was gone, off on some trip, leaving me in peace. The guards were careful, only ever coming down to douse me with faebane every few hours and a meal every other day, ensuring I didn't have the strength to escape. Other than that, they left me alone. And that suited me fine. The less contact I had with anyone, the better.

Still, even their presence didn't mask the cold. The unbearable chill that sank deep into my bones. I couldn't feel my fingers anymore. My limbs were numb, and every inch of my body ached with hunger, with pain, with exhaustion. I tried to curl into myself, but there was no relief. No place to hide from the gnawing hunger that ripped through me every time I tried to move.

I had long since stopped caring about the sounds above. The shouting, the crashing—it was just noise. And it was so far away from me that I couldn't convince myself that it was for me. That it was anything that mattered. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. I was nothing.

I had stopped waiting for the sound of wings. The sound of someone coming to save me. They weren't coming. No one was coming.

The thought almost brought a laugh, but the pain in my chest was too much for that. So I kept my silence, curling further into myself, hoping the darkness would offer me some comfort away from the pain. But then, I heard something more distinct than the usual clamor above.

Thud.

I froze, every muscle tensing, my breath catching in my throat. The footsteps were different, stronger than the usual guards' and more urgent than Ziven's.

No. No, this isn't real.

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing my mind to settle, but the noise didn't stop. It only grew louder, like thunder crashing from above. My heart stuttered in my chest, and my body responded to it before my mind could catch up. The pain was too much. The starvation was too much. My limbs felt like they were filled with lead, heavy and unresponsive. But still, I lifted my head—desperate, foolish.

It had to be a hallucination. There was no other explanation. Ziven hadn't come in days. The guards were too careful now, too quiet. It was just my mind, breaking apart after so many days of isolation, of pain, of suffering.

The footsteps came closer, louder, closer still. I didn't move. I couldn't. My body was too weak, too malnourished to even react, to push through the darkness in my mind. And then, as the steps drew close, a voice—a voice I found it hard to comprehend.

No.. this isn't real

But the voice came again. A whisper of something so familiar, so tender, that it almost broke me.

Ziláa

I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, refusing to open them, I couldn't do this. My mind had betrayed me so many times. I had already been here, in this place—drenched in fevered delusions, desperate for anything that resembled hope. But hope hadn't come. It wouldn't come. Not for me.

And yet...the voice persisted. Stronger now. Real?

Ziláa

My breath caught in my throat. The pain, the exhaustion—it all seemed to fade for a second. I lifted my head, the room spinning around me. My vision was a blur. I blinked, desperate for clarity, and there, in the dim light, I saw a figure.

It wasn't possible, I knew it wasn't.

The figure moved closer, and I tried to focus, but the world around me was a haze. It couldn't be. My heart ached with something far more intense than pain. Something that made me tremble.

Azriel

No. I blinked again, trying to force my eyes to focus, but my body was too weak, too broken to make sense of it. He wasn't here. He couldn't be. This was a hallucination. A cruel one. A sick joke my mind had conjured in its last moments of breaking. I had been left behind. No one was coming for me.

But the figure dropped to its knees in front of me, pulling me in. I felt the presence wash over me, the warmth in the touch.

Azriel

No. No, it wasn't him. It couldn't be. He doesn't know where I am.

My chest tightened painfully. I couldn't make any sense of it at all, my mind far too gone, too broken.

He reached up, a hand stroking my hair as he rocked my unmoving body. I couldn't move my limbs, they were too heavy with weakness. I still couldn't react, couldn't believe.

This isn't real, I thought, but my heart had already begun to believe it. And when he spoke again, his voice softer now, more familiar, more real than I had ever known...

I'm here. You're safe. I'm sorry it took so long.

The world spun around me, and my eyes filled with tears. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. All I could feel was his presence, too much, too close, and my mind—my broken, starved mind—refused to let me trust it.

I closed my eyes and let the darkness take me, unwilling to believe that this could be real. Unwilling to trust the one thing that might heal me.

Not yet.

And with that, I slipped away, the world around me falling into nothingness.