I can’t breathe, can’t think.The world is a hollow drum; my heart the only sound.
Sylas washes out of focus as my eyes glisten.The edges of the room swim as a pressure builds inside my skull.
I clench my teeth so hard my jaw aches, hoping the simple act will prevent the grief that teeters on the edge of a landslide.My lower lip begins to tremble, and I bite down—hard—until the sharp, metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.
My chest seizes.The iron within turns bitter as a heavy weight presses down on my lungs, constricting my ribs until my breath hitches—a sudden, choked gasp that leaves me reeling.
I don’t know how long I kneel here, trembling hands hovering over Sylas, afraid to touch what will never be warm again.
I draw a hand back, pressing an unsteady palm to my temple.It all happened so fast.
The crisp images turn to a blur in my mind: One minute I’m running for my life; the next, blackness, a sharp inhale of breath, and then silence.
The image of his gaze solidifying, turning to glass replays on a loop.I could have stopped it, couldn’t I?Nausea crashes over me.Yes.I could have.Should have.But I didn’t.
And now he’s gone.
I can’t bear the sight of his still body, the warmth already retreating from his skin.I’ve got to get out of here, before the guilt becomes a corrosive tide, burning my very soul.
The shadows wrap around my waist, heaving me to my feet—an act they’ve never done before, their grip sharper than it was yesterday.My legs tremble under the crushing weight of my actions.If I don’t move now, the grief will turn me to stone.
I stop at the threshold, my breath catching as I force myself to take in the scene.He looks so peaceful—as if he’s finally found Da and left this rot behind.But when I look down, my palms are stained, the phantom drip of his life between my fingers.
I did this.
The truth kills the peace.
A snigger—too close to be my own—slices up my spine.The sound ignites a cold fire across my skin.I jolt back, heart slamming against my ribs as its invading, cold presence doesn’t just touch my skin—it burrows into my bones.
The shadows lay draped over my shoulders, a tendril of smoke caressing my cheek, as if apologising, or accepting blame.I can’t focus enough to tell.
I cast one last look at Sylas.The quiet is absolute.Without the familiar rattle of his breath, the silence presses in on me, accusing and heavy.I can’t breathe in this stillness.My skin crawls with the need to move.
My chest heaves, each breath a shard of glass splintering my lungs instead of filling them.I can’t stay here; these walls are hemming me in, shrinking the room until I’m being crushed against the evidence of what I’ve done.
The door creaks shut, the latch clicking into place, sealing the silence within.I’ve left him there.Alone in the dark.My mind goes hollow, but my feet move anyway, carrying me toward the only sanctuary I have left.
The only other place I can call home.
My feet are light as I step into the void of the Hollow, becoming at one with my shadow as my steps become mere whispers against the slick, stone steps.
I track every sight and sound that moves around me, eyes bouncing through the sea of homes that stack towards the starless sky.There’s no flashes of white, or gold, only the soft glow from hanging lanterns and candles, each light a little beacon of belonging and shared warmth within.
The constant, raw wound inside of me splits, tearing itself into an even bigger hole that refuses to heal.I press a hand to my sternum, futilely trying to hold the pieces of myself together.This ache isn’t just pain; it's the empty space where my family should be, and I’m falling, and falling.But there’s no bottom.
A cold, feather-light touch spreads down my neck, snapping me back to reality:I have to move.
Stumbling down steps, I run through the lanes that lean in like they want to hear my secrets, houses blur as tears pool my vision, streaking endlessly down my cheeks.
Tattered wooden shutters come into view, as I wipe the tears on the back of my hand.Green flecks of paint fall from the impact as I beat my fist against Yara’s door.The pounding in my ears grows louder, as my heartbeat struggles to keep up.
I stumble forward into Yara’s arms as she opens the door.She catches me effortlessly, her strength unyielding as I collapse against her.The scent of dried herbs and lavender vinegar envelops me, and I finally melt into the comforting warmth.
“Seren,” she breathes.“Child—what is it?”
I struggle to find the words, as speaking them aloud will only make them real.As if noticing my hesitation through her milky gaze, she pulls me inside, the bell chiming as the door clicks shut.
My legs wobble from the strain of getting here, but I force them to stand, alleviating the weight I forced on Yara.Her calloused hands find my cheeks, her gaze shifting as she tries to focus on my own.
