EUPHORIA

learning

The small house sat tucked away in the mountains, surrounded by towering pine trees and the distant echo of the wind whistling through the rugged peaks. The air was crisp and fresh, far removed from the chaos of the city Raven had known. Inside the house, the warmth of the fire crackled softly, offering a gentle contrast to the cold outside. Raven stood by the large window, gazing out at the snow-covered landscape as the evening descended. It was beautiful here, peaceful in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. But it also felt isolating.

She had been here for two days now, ever since Damian had brought her from the auction. Everything was still so new, so foreign, but Damian’s presence was a constant. He was the only familiar thing, even though she knew so little of him. Still, she felt something—something small but growing—making her feel less alone.

Damian sat at the small kitchen table, watching her carefully. She had barely spoken since they arrived, only offering the occasional nod or gesture. But tonight, he was determined to change that. He couldn’t afford to let her slip further into silence, to remain cut off from the world.

"Raven," he said softly, his voice cutting through the quiet. "We need to learn to communicate."

She turned to face him, her dark eyes reflecting the dim light. She had a blank expression, but her posture showed she was listening. She had no words yet, no ability to convey herself fully, but she could understand him. That was enough for now.

Damian stood up, his movements smooth and purposeful, and walked over to her. He pointed to himself first, the familiar gesture meant to introduce her to a simple idea.

"I am Damian." His tone was clear, simple.

Raven tilted her head slightly, observing him. She didn’t respond immediately, but she did repeat the movement—pointing to herself.

"I... Raven," she murmured, her accent thick but clear enough. Her voice sounded uncertain, as if she was testing the word, trying it on for size. She glanced up at him for confirmation.

Damian nodded. “Yes. Raven.”

His praise, although simple, made something stir inside her. She felt a small flicker of hope, a tiny spark of connection.

He moved to the small table in the corner of the room, where a few simple items were laid out—a glass of water, an apple, a bowl of fruit. He pointed to the glass of water first. “Water.” He said it slowly, making sure she heard each syllable. “Water.”

Raven followed his gaze and repeated, “Water.” It wasn’t perfect, but it was close enough.

"Apple," Damian said next, pointing to the fruit bowl.

Raven glanced at the apple, then back at him. “Apple.”

“Good,” he said, nodding approvingly.

Raven’s lips curved up slightly at his praise. Something in her chest eased. It wasn’t much—just a word or two—but it felt like progress. She was learning. And he was helping her.

They spent the next hour repeating simple words and phrases. Each time she struggled, he was patient, waiting for her to catch up. When she said something right, his praise was steady, affirming.

But it wasn’t just about the words—it was about how she felt in his presence. The tension that had clung to her from the auction was beginning to dissolve. Here, in the quiet of the mountains, with only the firelight and Damian’s calm presence, Raven began to trust him just a little more.

“Good job,” he said finally, standing back after a successful round of practice. His approval was clear, his tone warmer than she had heard before. The words held weight, a subtle acknowledgment of her efforts.

Raven looked up at him, her eyes softening for a moment. She hadn’t expected praise. She hadn’t expected him to acknowledge her in this way. But the sincerity in his voice made her chest tighten in a way she couldn’t explain.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, the words feeling unfamiliar on her tongue but right nonetheless.

Damian gave her a small, approving nod, his gaze meeting hers for just a moment longer than usual. “You learn quickly,” he added, his voice soft with approval.

Something inside Raven shifted. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but she could feel it. The last two days had been hard for her—she hadn’t trusted him, hadn’t fully understood him. But now, hearing him praise her, seeing the patience in his eyes, she began to trust him just a little more. He wasn’t like the others. He didn’t see her as just an object, just someone to be controlled.

He was trying to teach her. Trying to help her.

And for the first time, Raven allowed herself to believe it.

The fire crackled, the warmth of the house wrapping around them both as the quiet of the mountains settled outside. Raven wasn’t alone anymore—not in this house, not in this moment. There was something between them, something that had started to grow, and maybe—just maybe—it would lead somewhere better.