“Don’t worry,” he adds softly.“Stirs are useful.They bring what’s buried to the surface.”
My shadows curl around my legs, sensing something from this stranger.“Who are you?”
“I am Uri Valeor,” he says easily, bowing his head just enough to suggest humility.My brows furrow at the name, the weight of it not yet sinking in.“I’m also known as the High Luminary of Mercy.”
My eyes widen, my mouth falling open in sheer disbelief.I scramble back toward the headboard, dragging the covers around me as if the fabric could stop the truth from settling in.It doesn’t.
The High Luminaries are creatures of myth—rarely seen, let alone spoken to.I had hoped my brief glimpse of them upon arrival was all the exposure I would ever endure.I never expected a personal visitation.
A knot of unease tightens in my stomach, gripping my insides with enough force that bile rises to my throat.
“M—mercy?”I echo.The word tastes foreign on my tongue.
“A title fitting for where we are—and who I am.”He motions to the room and smiles.He glides across the marble, stepping onto the cushioned rug as he nears the bed.A bejewelled hand brushes the silken sheets before he perches on the edge, the mattress dipping under his weight.
“I believe we have met before.”
“In the hall, yes.”
I look down at my hands, watching a finger pick at a cuticle.The skin around the nail is red and raw, mirroring the marks beneath my new manacles.Then it dawns on me which one he is.
“Were you the one who winked at me?”
A soft chuckle vibrates from his lips, the sound almost reaching my own.“Yes.Apologies if that unnerved you.Unlike my…associates, I do not share the same aversion to Shadowbornes.”
I don’t respond.
“You’ve been through so much in such a short time, my dear.”He leans in, a practiced warmth radiating from his calm demeanour.“I understand how you must be feeling.”
“No,” I whisper.“You don’t.”
“My dear girl, this place may seem strange, but I promise you, it’s not.Come, tell me—what is home like for you?”His eyes bore into the depths of my soul, inviting me in.
“It’s dark.Always dark.”I pick at the skin around my nails.“There’s no sunlight.No fresh air.No hope.”I look up, meeting that emerald-flecked gaze.“Do you know what it feels like to wake up everyday not knowing if it will be your last?”
He hangs his head, shaking it gently until his dark brown hair sways.The silence drags.For a moment, I think he won’t respond, but then he does.“Alas, I do not.But I can agree that this is not a life of living, but of surviving.The war has created a divide in our world—one that will not be easily mended, I’m afraid.”
I don’t argue; there’s no point.Centuries of conflict won’t be settled in this small moment.My chest caves, shoulders rolling inward under the weight of my exhalation.
He takes my hand, gesturing for my eyes to meet his.As he does, a hiss forms deep in my skull.I shake it away.
“Tell me, Seren.Do you dream?”
The question snaps through me like a wire.“Why?”
“Dreams are fascinating things, are they not?Projecting our hidden thoughts until we’re lost in our own landscape.”His thumb traces idle circles over my bare skin, sending shivers trailing along my spine.“A silent conversation with the soul.It’s quite poetic, don’t you think?”
His tone is so calm that it almost makes me forget I should hate him.Almost.
“I—I guess I never thought of it that way.”
“What are the conversations your soul is having?”
I pull my hand away from his, coldness seeping into the space where his warmth had been.My gaze shifts to the lamp; its glow feels brighter than I remember, as if charged by his presence.
“There’s…there’s just a lot of darkness.Always darkness.”
“Interesting.And does anything happen in this darkness?”
