I eat the bread. It is rich, seeded with herbs I don't recognize, and I devour it with shaking hands. The water is cool and clean. As my belly fills, the adrenaline crash hits me. My limbs feel heavy, turning to lead.
I crawl onto the massive bed. The velvet is soft against my cheek, smelling of lavender and that underlying, metallic scent that seems to permeate the entire estate.
I close my eyes, trying to find the quiet place in my mind. The fortress.
Build the wall. Lay the stones. Mortar them with silence.
But the wall is cracked.
I can feel it—a jagged fissure running through the center of my mind. And through that fissure, the world is leaking in.
It starts as a low thrumming, like a headache building behind the eyes. But it isn't pain. It is... agitation.
Pace. Turn. Pace. Turn.
The rhythm beats against my skull. It feels frantic, a caged animal throwing itself against the bars. My breath hitches. I press the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to block it out.
Why is it silent? Why doesn't He answer?
The thought isn't mine. It is sharp, cold, and terrified. It tastes of ink and old blood.
Imas.
I sit up, gasping. I am sensing him. He must be nearby—perhaps in the room next door, or the study below. The proximity is amplifying the connection I forged when I touched him. The dam is broken, and his emotions are flooding into me.
It is suffocating. His anxiety is akin to a chain on my chest. His frustration feels like insects skittering under my skin.
Stop it,I think, projecting the thought toward the source of the noise.Be quiet.
I squeeze my hands into fists, my nails digging into my palms. I focus on the sensation of the velvet under my legs, the sound of the rain. I try to push back against the intrusion. I try to be calm.
I breathe in.I am safe. I am alone.
I breathe out.Silence.
I imagine the calm as a color—a soft, pale gray, like the morning mist. I wrap it around myself. I push it outward, toward the jagged, frantic presence scratching at my mind.
The effect is instant.
The thrumming in my head slows. The frantic pacing sensation stutters and halts. The sharp, metallic taste of his anxiety dulls, replaced by a sudden, stunned stillness.
My headache fades to a dull ache.
I blink, staring at the far wall. I did that. I reached out, across the distance, and I... soothed him.
A shiver works its way up my spine. This is dangerous. If I can feel him, he can feel me. And if I can soothe him...
He drinks the scream that dies in the throat.
I am feeding him. Not with fear, but with peace.
I scramble off the bed, backing away as if the mattress has burned me. I need to stop. I need to rebuild the wall. If I give him peace, he will only want more. He will drain me dry until I am nothing but a husk.
The lock clicks.
I spin around. The door swings open.
It is not Rina this time.
