Ahicia sat in her room, the soft glow of sunlight streaming through the curtains, casting a warm haze over the space. Her frail fingers traced the edge of the chalkboard she used to communicate, her mind lost in thought. The week had stretched endlessly, and each moment without Damian felt like an eternity.
A soft knock on the door broke her reverie. Before she could respond, Lysandra entered, a tray balanced in her hands. The sweet, soothing scent of cinnamon tea filled the room, accompanied by the subtle crunch of freshly baked cookies.
"I thought you might want something warm," Lysandra said softly, placing the tray on the small table beside Ahicia's bed. Her usual sharp demeanor was tempered by the concern in her eyes.
Ahicia smiled faintly, nodding her thanks as she took the chalkboard and scribbled a question: Where is Damian?
Lysandra hesitated, her ears twitching slightly. She looked away, her tail flicking nervously behind her. "He… went to look for a cure for you," she said finally, her voice low.
Ahicia's crimson eyes widened slightly as she processed the words. Her gaze fell to her lap, her chalk resting motionless in her hand. The thought of Damian venturing into unknown territory for her sake stirred a conflicting storm of emotions within her.
Am I worthy of this? she wondered, her chest tightening. She remembered the countless times she had plotted to escape, to leave Damian and this world behind. Now, she had the perfect chance—he was away, distracted. She could leave, vanish without a trace.
But the thought didn't bring her relief. Instead, it filled her with an ache she couldn't explain.
Her grip on the chalkboard tightened as her mind raced. She didn't want to leave anymore. The memories of Damian's touch, his golden eyes filled with worry, his unwavering resolve to save her—all of it anchored her to this place, to him.
A small smile curved her lips, her decision finally clear. I'll stay. With him.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a maid entering the room, her expression flustered. "Miss Ahicia, Lord Damian has returned," the maid announced.
Ahicia's heart leapt at the words. She gestured toward Lysandra, scribbling quickly on the chalkboard: Help me. I want to welcome him.
Lysandra hesitated for a moment before nodding. She helped Ahicia sit up and draped a shawl over her shoulders before guiding her carefully down the stairs. Ahicia's steps were slow, her body still frail, but her determination was unwavering.
As they reached the grand hall, Ahicia's crimson eyes immediately sought Damian. He stood near the entrance, his tall frame casting a shadow in the dim light. But instead of the relief she expected to see on his face, his expression was dark, his golden eyes heavy with gloom.
Ahicia's breath caught in her throat. She wanted to call out to him, to ask what was wrong, but her voice failed her. Her trembling hand reached for the chalkboard, but before she could write a single word, a voice rang out, freezing her in place.
"Well, well. Isn't this a warm welcome?"
Ahicia's eyes darted to the source of the voice, and her blood ran cold. Standing beside Damian was Grace, her sister, her crimson eyes glinting with cruel amusement.
The shock was too much. Ahicia's vision blurred, and her chest tightened as she gasped for air. Her body swayed, and before anyone could react, she collapsed, fainting in Lysandra's arms.
Damian's golden eyes widened as he rushed forward. "Ahicia!" he called, his voice filled with panic.
But she was unresponsive, her frail body limp as Lysandra held her protectively. Damian's glare turned sharp as he looked toward Grace
Grace only smiled faintly, her lips curling into a smug grin.