Or someone.
“Stop,” I whisper. “Please, just stop—”
But my Ether doesn’t listen.
It never really has.
I press my hands to the floor, nails scraping stone, and force everything I have into pulling it back. Reining it in. Making itobey.
The mist shudders. Flickers.
Then snaps back so fast I gasp.
The chamber goes still.
Silent.
I sit there, panting, staring at my hands.
The shadow marks are still there. But the Ether is gone. Pulled so far inside I can barely feel it anymore.
That’s almost worse.
Because if I can’t feel it, I can’t control it.
And if I can’t control it—
I don’t finish the thought.
Instead, I push to my feet, legs unsteady, and look around the chamber.
Really look, for the first time since the darkness lifted.
It’s beautiful in a sick sort of way.
Black stone walls, smooth and polished. Arches that curve into nothing. Silver fire flickering along surfaces without burning them.
And furniture.
A low couch draped in velvet. Cushions piled on the floor. A table carved from what looks like obsidian.
It looks like a bedroom.
My stomach twists.
This isn’t a prison. Not the way I thought.
It’s a cage dressed as a sanctuary.
He wants me to feel safe here. Comfortable. Like I chose this.
I move to the far wall, running my hands along the stone, searching for seams. Doors. Anything that might lead out.
Nothing.
Just smooth, unbroken stone.
I circle the entire chamber. Every wall. Every corner.
