He will come when he comes,Raeska had said.
Morgan wasn't sure whether the thought sent fear spiraling through her chest or something else entirely.
Time became difficult to grasp. It drifted in a slow, uncertain rhythm, stretching until she felt suspended inside it. The faint glow from the walls, the soft trickle from the garden, the perfectly tempered air—everything around her remained steady while her thoughts churned restlessly beneath the surface.
She moved from the cushioned seat and wandered a few steps, tracing her hand along the cool stone. The weight of the garments seemed to shift with her movements, every fold of fabric a reminder of how meticulously she had been prepared. It all felt intentional, as though every detail in this room existed for a purpose she hadn’t been told.
A tight, uneasy feeling gathered beneath her ribs.
This is crazy.
She crossed the chamber again, trailing her fingers over the violet embroidery at her waist, then stopped near the garden’s archway. The mist drifting from the foliage carried a faint sweetness, calming at first, but now it only heightened her awareness of how carefully curated her surroundings were.
She pressed her fingertips lightly against the stone, steadying herself.
They dressed me with such care. Fed me beautifully. Soft hands, soft voices… as if all of this were kindness. But I was taken. Moved like a possession from one place to another.
The thought slid through her with a quiet, unwelcome clarity.
She had been removed from her world because she muttered one frustrated, careless line at a dinner table she hadn’t wanted to attend.
I’d rather be abducted by aliens.
She closed her eyes briefly.
To her, it had been sarcasm.
To them, it had been permission.
The luxurious surroundings didn’t mask the truth. This was still captivity, even if softened by silks and warm water and attentive attendants. The contrast made it worse, as if she were being coaxed into surrender rather than forced.
And yet… another thought nudged at the edges of her mind.
If they hadn’t taken me, I would still be trapped in that narrow future my father insisted was mine.
A silent treaty of obedience in exchange for privilege, scripted obligations disguised as opportunity.
She stepped away from the archway and returned to the seat, forcing herself to sit again even though her pulse urged her to move. She wrapped her arms loosely around herself and let her gaze drift across the chamber.
She needed something—anything—to anchor her, but the room remained unchanged, as if holding its breath alongside her.
Her thoughts circled back to Raeska’s words, calm and cryptic.
The Vykan will come when he comes.
Morgan’s fingers curled around the edge of the cushion, the fabric soft beneath her tightening grip.
Eventually, she rose, unable to stay still any longer, and crossed toward the archway that led into the small garden beyond her chambers.
Warm air greeted her as she stepped outside. Moisture hung in the space like a fine veil, carrying a faint floral scent she couldn’t identify. Soft bioluminescent plants lined the garden walls, their leaves edged in violet light, the colors shifting subtly as though the foliage breathed.
At the far side, a waterfall poured in a slender ribbon from a carved stone lip above, its flow gentle and constant. The water spilled into a shallow pond ringed by smooth, dark tiles. Thesurface rippled with delicate patterns each time the stream met it, sending concentric circles outward.
Morgan approached the pond, her steps slow and hesitant.
Beneath the water’s surface, small creatures darted in quick bursts of movement—fishlike at first glance, sleek-bodied and graceful. But their coloring made her pause. Lilac. Not a soft blush, not a hint—fully lilac, a shimmering violet sheen that shifted with their movements. They flashed between water-grown fronds that curled like translucent feathers, their colors blooming in hues she had never seen in any earthly ecosystem.
Something inside her loosened as she watched them.
