Are they hiding something?
Is Erion hiding something from me?
The image of his blood-streaked face flashed again—those cold, glassy eyes staring through her. But this time, the memory shifted. The stoic expression curled at the edges, warping into a haunting, jester-like grin.
A cry—no, a wail—ripped through the silence.
Evah flinched.
What was that?
Why is he screaming like that?
Why... why do I feel so scared?
She stared at the door, heart pounding. It was just a wooden panel. Ordinary. But the longer she looked, the more it felt like it was watching her—breathing, almost. Like a wall that kept something dark locked away, something fragile just beneath the surface.
Erion… what's behind this door? What are you hiding?
Footsteps approached, and Silas caught up at last, still composed as ever.
"Miss Arsenault, please return to your room," he said firmly, not even sparing the door a glance.
His calm unnerved her. How could he ignore it—the muffled cries, the metallic rattling, the suffering coming from inside?
So it was true.
The screams she'd heard nights ago— in the halls, barely audible—were real.
She wasn't imagining it.
Evah gripped the brass doorknob.
Locked.
"You've got to be kidding me." She turned sharply. "Open the door."
Silas didn't move. Didn't blink.
The weight of his usual intimidation had lifted, replaced by a wall of silence. It didn't stop her—curiosity, like wildfire, burned inside her.
"Miss Arsenault," he repeated, more pressure in his voice now. "Please follow me to your room."
"There's something wrong!" she shouted, jiggling the handle. "Silas, open it!"
He hesitated—but his eyes stayed neutral. "It is Lord Erion's direct order," he said. "No one is allowed near this room, let alone inside."
Erion's order?
That only stoked her suspicions further.
The tension curled in her stomach. Every second felt like an hour.
"I'm the Lady of the house, aren't I, Silas?" she asked, voice trembling but steady.
"I am aware, Miss Arsenault," he said calmly.
"Then open the door. That's an order." She tried to make it sound commanding, but her voice cracked slightly at the end. She never realized how hard it was to summon a voice of authority until now.
Silas inhaled slowly, a long, tired breath. Like someone arriving at a cliff they've avoided for too long.
He gave a short nod—and reached for the key.
INT – DARK ROOM
The door creaked open.
What she saw was not what she prepared for.
Darkness swallowed the room. Two dim lamps flickered faintly on either side of the bed, casting long shadows on the walls. Rain tapped against the vast glass windows, and every now and then, lightning split the sky—briefly illuminating the space in flashes of stark white.
Evah stood at the threshold, rooted in place.
Silas remained behind her, still and silent.
There, across the room, was a large, disheveled bed—sheets tangled, mattress twisted.
A man lay sprawled across it, turned to the side, half-naked in dark pajamas.
His body trembled violently. His face contorted in pain.
His right arm dangled off the edge of the bed. His left hand clutched the sheets like they were the only thing anchoring him to this world. Sweat soaked his skin, shining in the flickering light.
And then—lightning struck again.
For just a heartbeat, she saw it.
Scars.
Riddled across both hands.
Slashed across his torso.
Old ones. Fresh ones. Some deep, some faded—scars from battles or something worse.
But what truly shattered her was the sight of the metal cuffs clamped around his wrists—heavy, oversized restraints embedded deep into the wall. These weren't ordinary cuffs. The chains were thick, the steel unnaturally reinforced, as if meant to bind something far more dangerous than a man. Something untamed. Something feared. Something like a wild creature.
Another shriek tore through the silence.
It was raw, inhuman, shattering. Like a pain shot straight into her chest without warning, without reason—sharp, disorienting, and all-consuming.
It echoed inside her ribs and made her knees weak.
Evah gasped.
Evah wanted to scream in shock, to call Erion and demand answers—What is the meaning of this?
But how could she?
Each flash of lightning gave her just enough light to see him—barely—but every glimpse carved deeper into her disbelief.
She wanted to ask who this person was. Why he was bound like that? What had happened?
But how could she?
When the only one she thought could explain everything—the only one she believed would protect her from a nightmare like this—was the one lying there, shackled like a beast, as if the world had turned him into something too dangerous to be free.
Erion.