Quiet.
Slow.
Easy.
She couldn’t afford to give anything away, and there were so many of them around her, all reprimanding in nature. They wanted her to conform. To change. To be the Seraphim of her past.
Caro was no one.
She ceased to be.
A vessel of magic. A being to be owned.
Those thoughts rolled through the front of her mind, an intoxicating presence of reformation. She didn’t fight. Not obviously, anyway. Instead, she quietly retreated to that place she craved, the one she shouldn’t touch. Every time she altered a contrived memory, the message changed. She couldn’t risk it being too much, or one of them would notice. But the feed was on a loop.
Caro drowning.
Caro crying.
Caro screaming in agony.
It all felt centuries old to her. She couldn’t even feel the water now or remember how it’d suffocated her. Yet the pain remained as a visceral scar against her heart.
She crept forward, wishing to leave another footprint, hoping to be able to alter a sentence or a phrase.
How many times had she died and regenerated?
The loop only showed a handful of memories, causing her to wonder how long she’d actually been at the bottom of the ocean. Minutes? Hours? Days? Months?
Did it truly matter?
No. Not really. She had a mission in mind, a memory to tweak, a way to—
A spike of presence had Caro blanking her mind once more.
One of them was checking on her increased mental activity.
Seraphim do not feel.
Seraphim do not love.
Seraphim do not react.
She took a shallow breath, falling back into line, far away from that precious place. There would be no altering today. Not with him in her mind, poking around to search for any faults in her rehabilitation.
Silence overcame her.
Calmness.
Nothingness.
Caro no longer existed.
No bonds.
No family.
No love.
