Gods, her eyes.
They didn’t reflect light the way eyes should. They were dark—and not just brown or black, but dark in a way that suggested the complete absence of light. Looking into them felt like standing on the edge of a cliff and feeling the pull of the drop.
I tried to look away, to tear myself free of her gaze, but I couldn’t. She held me transfixed. My heart clamored so loudly I was certain those downstairs could hear it, certain the entire house could hear it.
But the silence was absolute. It pressed against my ears, my chest, my thoughts until I wanted to scream just to break it, but I couldn’t scream.
The woman simply watched.
Time became meaningless.
Seconds? Minutes? Hours?
I tried counting my own breaths to ground myself in something real, something measurable.
Ten breaths. Twenty. Fifty. A hundred. A thousand.
My legs began to tremble.
Sweat ran down my spine despite the unnatural cold.
My vision tunneled, edges going dark, until all I could see was her, those eyes, that perfect, inhuman stillness.
The urge to fill the silence became physical. Painful. A pressure building in my chest that wanted release.
I opened my mouth—to say what, I did not know—
Only then did she move. It was little more than a raise of her hand, her fingers pointing to the cushion across from her.
Sit, I heard in my mind.
The spell broke. Or it was cast. I couldn’t know.
I gasped and sucked in air like I’d been drowning. My legs nearly gave out as I crossed the room, each step like wading through deep water. The distance could not have been more than a few paces, but it felt infinite. I kneeled on the cushion, my hands pressed against my thighs as I’d been taught, though I could barely feel them.
Still, she watched, those terrible, unblinking eyes never leaving my face.
I tried closing my eyes, tried to escape that gaze for just a moment, but I could still feel it, still sense the woman’s unwavering focus boring into me, peeling away layers, seeing things I did not want seen.
I opened my eyes again.
It was worse to not see her.
She reached into her clothing with one hand. The movement was too fast to track—there, then not there, then there again. When her hand emerged, she placed something small on the desk between us.
A coin?
It was gold—pure gold, by the way it glistened—and larger than any currency I had ever seen. The craftsmanship was exquisite, each detail sharp and clear.
Pick it up, the voice slid smoothly between my thoughts.
I reached out with numb fingers and turned it over. On one face, the Emperor’s profile. Noble. Distant. Perfect. On the reverse, a dragon. Magnificent and terrible, its mouth open, flames pouring forth. Every scale rendered in miniature detail. And its eyes—its eyes seemed to follow me as I moved the coin. Watching. Always watching. Nawa. The Emperor’s dragon.
The coin felt warm against my skin, too warm, as if it was readying to melt—or as if something lived inside it, radiating heat. The weight was wrong, too. It felt too heavy, even for gold.
I lifted it closer, examining, and caught a scent. It was faint but unmistakable.
Blood.
