I turned a corner and found myself standing before a massive stained-glass window. It stretched from floor to ceiling, depicting a swirling, chaotic battle between fae high on a mountaintop and sirens emerging from the waters below, their forms locked in eternal conflict. The colors shimmered unnaturally, shifting as though the figures were alive, their swords clashing and spells weaving in an endless dance.
The hallway led me to a gallery. The moment I entered, the air became thicker and heavier, as if I’d stepped into a room filled with unspoken words and lingering ghosts. Massive, gilded paintings lined the walls, each one more vivid than the last.
I moved from one to the next, unable to look away.
A fierce storm overtaking a fae court, shadows consuming everything in their path. A banquet table surrounded by figures that blurred at the edges, their faces twisted with greed and laughter.
Then, a portrait.
It stopped me in my tracks. The man in the painting was almost a mirror of The Shadow—same piercing eyes, same angular features—but his hair was streaked with gray, and his expression carried a weight far heavier than the stormy façade The Shadow wore.
I didn’t need anyone to tell me who he was. The resemblance was undeniable, and the oppressive energy radiating from thepainting made my skin crawl. This was the man who had molded The Shadow. It had to be his father.
I took a step back, panic roaring through me.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
The sing-song voice startled me. I whirled around to find Eldora standing in the doorway, her lavender eyes narrowed in warning. She stepped forward, the glow of the runes on the walls casting an otherworldly sheen over her silver-gray hair.
“I didn’t realize there were restrictions on where I could and couldn’t visit within the estate.”
“Every inch of this estate could have danger lurking,” she said. “Tread carefully.”
The way she said it sent a chill down my spine, but I refused to let her see it. “I wasn’t aware a memo had gone out banning sightseeing,” I said, letting sarcasm lace my words.
For a moment, her lips twitched, almost a smile. Almost. “I see you’re acclimating to your surroundings.”
“Acclimating is a strong word,” I said, gesturing around the gallery. “Let’s call itfamiliarizingmyself with my prison.”
Eldora’s expression softened, though her sharp gaze never wavered. “Everyone is caged by something, Vivian. Even the masters of the darkest cages often find themselves trapped. Sometimes the bars are forged not by enemies, but by the ghosts of those who raised them.”
I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes at Eldora. “What about you? Are you caged?”
Her expression softened, a flicker of regret passing over her face. For a moment, I thought she wouldn’t answer. Then, with a quiet sigh, she said, “I am.”
Her gaze became distant. “But my cage is of my own making. It’s built of choices I’ve made, and the hope that one day, they’ll matter.”
“Hope?” I repeated, unsure if I’d ever heard the word sound so bittersweet.
Eldora’s lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Hope can be its own gilded prison, Vivian. It keeps you looking forward, even when the walls close in around you.”
Her words pressed against me, but I forced myself to shrug it off. “Noted,” I said, keeping my tone clipped. “Anything else, or is this where you tell me to run along and play nice?”
Her eyes flicked to the painting of the man I assumed was The Shadow’s father, and her expression darkened as if the very sight of it unsettled her. “Be careful whose shadows you step into,” she said softly. “Some linger longer than others.”
Before I could respond, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the corridor, her movements so silent it was as if she’d never been there at all.
I turned back to the painting, staring into the cold, predatory eyes of the man who had shaped The Shadow into what he was. The air around me felt heavy, charged with an energy I couldn’t name.
This wasn’t just a house. It wasn’t even a fortress.
It was a web of deception, built to capture and control prey.
Every room, every corner, held a piece of The Shadow. And as much as I wanted to convince myself that I could escape someday, there was a part of me—a quiet, insidious part—that was curious and wanted to see more.
The hallway stretchedout before me, the sconces casting flickering shadows on the dark stone walls. Each step I took felt too loud, even though I was trying to move silently. Mynerves were frayed, my heart hammering with every creak of the floorboards.
I half-expected The Shadow to emerge from the darkness, his towering form materializing to drag me back to my room—or worse. But as I turned corner after corner, nothing happened. The mansion was quiet—too quiet—and the stillness only made my anxiety worse.
