Chapter 18 CHAPTER 18
Every part of me went still, my breath caught in my chest as I stared at it, unable to look away. It wasn’t the same creature that had been quietly cleaning moments ago. This was something else entirely, something that made it very clear I had stepped too far into something I didn’t understand.
“I’m not…” I started, but the words died before they could fully form.
It didn’t move closer.
Didn’t attack.
It just held that position, its gaze locked onto mine, that low sound still lingering between us like a warning I couldn’t ignore.
Then, just as quickly as it had changed, it turned away.
Its mouth closed.
Its body shifted back into that same careful, controlled posture as if nothing had happened at all. It went back to its task, its movements smooth again, quiet, practiced, like the moment had never existed.
But it had.
And I didn’t move any closer again.
As the small creature made its way toward the door, I noticed something at the back of its neck. It wasn’t large, but it was visible enough to catch my attention, a faint marking just beneath the edge of its worn clothing. I couldn’t make out what it was from where I stood, but it was enough to make me pause, my eyes narrowing slightly as I tried to get a better look before it slipped away.
I made a mental note of it, something to remember for the next time it returned, though the thought came with hesitation. Getting a closer look would mean getting closer to it, and after what I had just seen, I wasn’t sure that was a risk I was willing to take. The image of its mouth opening, those small, razor-sharp teeth catching the light, lingered far too clearly in my mind.
I exhaled slowly, my gaze dropping from the door as it shut behind the creature.
Now I knew what it must feel like to be one of those birds kept in cages, trapped with nothing to do but watch life pass by through the bars. Only I didn’t have bars. I had a balcony that overlooked nothing but snow, stretching endlessly as far as the eye could see. It felt just as confining, if not worse, because it gave the illusion of freedom without offering any real way out.
I let out a slow sigh as I turned away from the balcony, my eyes drifting toward a section of the chamber I hadn’t paid much attention to before. What looked like a small library had been slowly revealed over the past few days, the servant clearing away dust and broken pieces until rows of books now stood neatly along the shelves. There were more books here than our entire village library, and that alone made me pause for a moment.
I wasn’t much of a reader.
Truth be told, my reading was poor at best. While other children in the village went to school, I stayed behind on the farm, taking care of the chores that had to be done. My stepfather had been the one meant to run things, but after my mother passed… everything changed.
He had been kind once, and treated me like I was his own.
But the sickness took my mother away, and with her, it took something from him too. He turned to drink, to places in the village I tried not to think about, and slowly, the man I knew disappeared into someone I barely recognized. I was only fourteen when she died, and I quickly learned that I had to make a choice. I could walk all the way to the village and try to attend school, or I could stay and take care of the farm.
I chose the animals.
There was no one else who would.
My stepfather would stay away for days, sometimes even weeks at a time, and when he did return, he was so drunk he could barely stand. He never asked about school, never questioned what I did with my time. Eventually, he stopped noticing anything at all. I took care of everything—the animals, the crops, whatever small income we could make from what little we had left.
If it hadn’t been for that… he probably would have never come back at all.
My chest tightened slightly at the thought, and I pushed it away, forcing myself back into the present. That life was gone now, whether I wanted it to be or not.
Now, I was here.
Trapped in a place that felt far bigger than it should, with nothing to do but wait… and think.
And thinking, I was starting to realize, might be the most dangerous thing of all.
So, instead I pulled one of the books from the shelf, the leather cover worn but still intact, and carried it over to the sofa. Sitting there felt strange, like I didn’t belong in a place like this, surrounded by things I had never had before and never asked for. I shifted slightly, adjusting myself before opening the book carefully, my fingers brushing over the pages as I tried to focus on the words in front of me.
They blurred together almost immediately, and I frowned as I leaned in closer, trying to make sense of them. I found myself sounding them out quietly in my head the way I used to when I was younger, but it felt slow and unfamiliar, like trying to remember something I had never fully learned in the first place. I traced a line of text with my finger, forcing myself to go word by word, but by the time I reached the middle of the page, I could no longer remember how it had started, and the meaning slipped away from me before I could grasp it.
Frustration tightened in my chest, growing sharper with every failed attempt, and I let out a breath through my nose as I tried again, only to lose my place almost instantly. The longer I sat there, the more useless it felt, and before I could stop myself, I pushed up from the sofa and tossed the book back onto it, the dull sound of it hitting the cushion echoing slightly in the quiet room. I ran a hand through my hair and took a few restless steps, my thoughts circling without anywhere to settle, the stillness of the chamber pressing in around me in a way that made it hard to breathe.