Chapter 56 Shadows in the Dust
Valenticia's POV~
The beam from my flashlight quavered, slicing through the damp shadows of the Clawford estate, with fear sharp each time it flickered that it might conceal Gregor’s spies. The air was dense, tasted of wet earth and old oak and my breaths came shallow and ragged, each one an effort to fight the dread constricting my chest. Who’s here? I said to myself, the words swallowed by darkness. I felt cobwebs slap my sweater again, snaring the sleeves, and my heart rate increased, antidote vial and my mother’s note—find Marrow—spiking heat into my skin, a promise I couldn’t unmake. There was a scuttle and I stopped, the light catching at a rat, its beady eyes shining like two stars as it shot from behind one of the wine racks. I felt relief, unsettled, trembling hands as I exhaled, the vial’s weight giving me back my bearings. She smelled perfume, a woman’s perfume, and the dull, metallic tang of leathery blood and she shivered, fear coiling in her gut, a cold whisper—what if I’m not alone? — and I commanded myself to walk, up the steps, stair by stone stair, the quiet of the estate a thick blanket as the gray pre-dawn light streamed through the arched windows, draping peculiar shadows over the walls.
In the kitchen, Rosanna awaited with a porcelain teapot steaming over the table between us, her silver hair complemented by sunlight straining through lace curtains. Her eyes, wild but marbled with a grandmother’s touch, saw straight through me as I pushed my mother’s note across the oak table, it's writing a riddle that burned my soul. “Granny,” I whispered, my voice hushed, the sound of fear weaving through my words, ” what does this note mean? Why Marrow?” She followed the graceful script, fingers unwavering despite the ache in her eyes, and her voice was firm, tough with a mother’s will. “Dr. Marrow's still alive, Valenticia, hiding out in the old town of Seryne. His safehouse contains clues – your mother trusted him, once before Galden twisted him.” I caught my breath, fear scratching at my throat—trusted, or betrayed? “Where is it?” I demanded, leaning forward, the tea’s sharp, grounding scent of bergamot anchoring me against the dread pooling in my chest. Rosanna’s eyes kept mine, unwavering, a warrior’s fire in them. “By the canal, 17 —a cracking tenement. Decode the note, child. Find him.” Her order had sparked something that I couldn’t put out now – but fear whispered: What had Galden planned for me? I nodded, holding on to my teacup, its warmth a poor defense.
Seryne’s library was an oak and ink cathedral, its vaulted ceiling gobbling up noise as I pressed past its heavy doors, the city’s morning hum suppressed outside of it, muffled by stained glass windows that splattered emerald and sapphire grains on the white marble floor. Fear pulsed through me a steady beat in my veins, my mother’s note tucked in my pocket, the vial of antidote a secret pressed against my ribs. I wanted answers - not just Galden’s history, but my own stolen past. I was met by a librarian, a narrow-faced, wiry man in owlish glasses and with a pinched frown, whose drone of a voice indicated his disinterest in this visitor from the outside world. “Microfilm’s down in the basement.” My boots clattered on the spiral staircase, fear shooting through with every step toward the underbelly of the library, where fluorescent lights hummed like trapped wasps. 1999 reports: Microfilm threading out, my fingers shaking as I worked the film through the reader — the growl and whine of the machine under my palms and fingertips. One of the requested Galden documents blinked onto Root’s screen: Subject V, V.C., memory serum trial, success. My face—Valenticia Clawford—stared back at me, clamped down, a clinical mark, and I choked in terror, my eyesight going blurry. What did they do to me? A memory floated up, frail, ephemeral — my mother’s voice, gentle, singing, Hush, my star, you will glow. It gave me strength, like a hand in the darkness, and I printed the report, iron-wrought resolve. They won’t define me.
My phone buzzed, flashes of Stefan across the screen, and my heart jolted. “Valenticia, you okay?” He’d asked it, with the concern there but warm and far away, a rope I couldn’t catch. A fear of vulnerability stopped me — I cannot need him now, I’m not ready, not yet. “I’m O.K.,” I said, my voice clipped, harsher than I intended, “just… busy.” Then, I ended the call, the silence more resonant than his voice, craving solitude to confront the safehouse building in my thoughts. Seryne’s cobblestone streets were slick with mist as I left the library, fear of a shadow following my steps, pulled toward the canal district’s rot, pistol and note burning in my bag.
Number 17 air was heavy with mildew and the canal’s brackish tang. The dusk parted before my flashlight, and my fear sharpened as I jimmied the rust-frozen lock, hands sweaty and slipping. The door opened with a ponderous creak, revealing an austere hall where the dust motes danced and the floorboards groaned beneath my tentative footfalls. Is Marrow here?? My breath caught and I timidly climbed the sagging stairs, heart pounding, each creak a warning. On the second floor, I saw a room with a rusted safe, its dial reflecting in my light’s beam. My mother’s key fit the one from the vault, and I turned it, the click reverberating in the quiet. There was a coded letter inside, its cipher scrawled by Marrow’s hand, whispering of an antidote lab on the coast of Seryne. My determination sparked like a flame against Galden’s falsehood—I will bring down their game. But a whisper—Valenticia—seethed from the darkness, sending shivers down my back, and I whipped around, flashlight shaking.