Draven's pov
The mansion felt like a tomb that morning, colder and emptier than usual, but I didn't realize how much until I heard from the staff that Eira had left early,gone before dawn to find me. The words hit me like a blow. Why would she come looking for me? Panic prickled under my skin, sharp and unwelcome. I shoved past the lingering heaviness of sleep and stormed through the hallways, retracing her steps with a mounting dread I tried to suppress. Every empty corridor, every locked door whispered the absence of her presence, and that absence was louder than any scream.
I kept telling myself she was safe,that she had simply gone out to clear her head or confront whatever haunted her. But the knot in my chest tightened with each passing minute. The mansion's usual chaos was replaced by an eerie stillness. I caught a glimpse of the servant at the foot of the stairs,her eyes wide, afraid to meet mine. I barely asked, but she murmured, "Master Draven, the dungeons…"
