Mira leaned closer, studying the map. The continent was drawn with precision, the lands of the Elves marked by dense green swirls that seemed to writhe even on the parchment. Tiny symbols dotted the forests—places where the trees were said to move on their own, where the very air could twist a human's mind.
"What about the city?" she asked, tapping a finger near the center of the Elfish territory. "The capital, if that's what you call it."
Vael's smirk deepened. "A capital? No. A prison. A palace. A mausoleum. Call it what you like." He traced a single finger along the line of the city's walls, his nail scraping slightly against the paper.
"It's called Vhaedrath. The 'City of the Moon. ' The last human who laid eyes on it called it 'the heart of a nightmare made flesh. '"
Mira frowned. "Charming."
Vael hummed in agreement. "The Elves built it themselves—no human hands ever touched the stone. The walls shift in the wind, the streets change direction when no one's looking. It's not meant to be navigated by us." His gaze flickered up to meet hers, sharp with challenge. "But you're a thief, aren't you?"
"Who is their King? What's he like." Vael's smile faded slightly, replaced by something more calculating.
He turned away from the map, moving to the small cabinet where a bottle of dark liquor sat. He poured two glasses without asking, pushing one toward you. The amber liquid caught the cabin's lantern light like molten gold.
"Their 'king' is a misnomer," he said, swirling the liquid in his glass. "Elves don't rule like we do. They have a council—elders who have lived for centuries, who remember things no human ever should. And at the head of that council..." He took a slow sip, savoring it. "There is the one they call the Dawn-Keeper."
The name sent a chill through you. "The Dawn-Keeper," she echoed, tasting the words like they were poison.
"What does that mean?" Vael's fingers tapped against the glass, the sound sharp in the cabin's stillness.
"It means he was there when the first humans crawled from their caves. It means he watched the rise and fall of empires that came before ours. It means his very presence can make a human's bones ache just by standing near him."
He took another sip, his eyes never leaving yours. "And he hates humans more than most. Because he remembers what we did to his kind."
The liquor in her glass seemed suddenly less appealing. "What did we do?"
Vael's fingers tightened around his glass, the amber liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. His knuckles whitened with the grip, the firelight casting harsh shadows across his sharp features. "What didn't we do?" he asked, his voice a dangerous whisper.
"Your ancestors burned their sacred groves. Raped their women. Murdered their children. And when they tried to make peace..." He set the glass down with deliberate care, the wood creaking under the force of his grip. "They opened the gates of their city to us. Trusted that we would keep our word."
Mira felt the blood drain from her face. "What happened?" Vael's smile was slow and terrible. "We slaughtered them."
His words cut through the cabin's stillness like a knife. "The Dawn-Keeper was away that night, or we would have killed him too. But his people... they trusted us. And we repaid that trust with fire and steel."
He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, fingers steepled. "So now, when you walk into that city, remember this—every Elf you see will know what your kind did. They'll see you and they'll think of the screams of their families. They'll see you and remember how easily humans lie."
The air felt suddenly too thick to breathe. Mira swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the desk.
"Don't worry Mira, they won't die that easy. They're stronger now, faster, and much smarter so, it's you who should keep your guard up."
He finished his drink in one long swallow, the amber liquid leaving a faint film on his lips. "The Dawn-Keeper will want to meet you personally. That's standard protocol for outsiders who dare to enter Vhaedrath." His blue eyes glinted with something unreadable in the lantern light. "Of course, meeting him is the least of your concerns."
Mira crossed her arms, leaning back in the chair. "What do you mean?"
Vael's smirk returned, slow and lazy. "Oh, he'll make you wish you never set foot in his city. But he won't kill you outright. That would be too merciful."
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. His proximity brought the scent of leather and something darker—something like smoke and iron. "The Dawn-Keeper enjoys games. Cruel ones. And he's very, very good at them."
Mira's fingers tightened against the arms of her chair. "You sound like you speak from experience."
Vael chuckled, the sound rough and amused. "I've heard rumors." His eyes held something distant and knowing. "But I know someone who walked away from a meeting with him. Someone who still has nightmares about what he saw."
He paused, letting the words settle like dust. "She lost her mind within a year. Started seeing things that weren't there. Talking to people who had been dead for centuries. By the time she died—" He shook his head slightly. "Let's just say her last words were in a language no human speaks anymore." Mira felt cold despite the cabin's heat.
"Got it. How long till we get there?"
Vael glanced at the map, then back to her. "Four days at sea, if the weather holds. Another week through the Deepwoods—assuming we don't get lost." His smirk deepened. "Or killed."
Mira exhaled slowly, fingers tapping against the desk. "You make it sound so comforting." Vael shrugged, rising from his seat. "It's not meant to be comforting. It's meant to be real."
He moved to the small cabinet, withdrawing a flask this time instead of a glass. "And you strike me as the type who'd rather know exactly what kind of hell she's walking into."
She watched as he took a long drink, the liquid making his throat work as he swallowed. "Care for some?"
"I shouldn't." He held out the flask, watching her with those sharp blue eyes. "Shouldn't," he echoed, amused. "Not a word I associate with you."
Mira hesitated for a moment, then took the flask. The liquid inside was dark and rich, burning like fire as it slid down her throat. She coughed slightly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Vael's smile widened.
"Good stuff," she admitted grudgingly, handing the flask back.
He took it without looking, his eyes fixed on her. "You'll need it."
The cabin fell into silence, save for the creak of the ship settling against the dock.
The trip at sea proved to be uneventful she spent most of her days enjoying the gradually changing scenery at night she would drink with the sailors and sleep until noon. Vael remained distant during the voyage, spending most of his time in his cabin or on deck issuing orders to the crew. When he did join her below deck, the conversation was clipped and sharp-edged—he seemed more focused on the approaching shoreline than on anything Mira had to say.
The morning of the third day, Mira woke to find the ship already moving under sail, the crew scrambling to bring in the last of the dock lines. Salt and pine hung heavy in the air as the vessel cut through the calm waters, the distant tree line growing larger by the hour. Vael stood at the bow, his dark coat billowing behind him like a storm cloud.
She stepped out on the deck nerves growing in her chest, in just a few more hours they would reach the shore line and she would be stepping into unknown territory. Mira gripped the ship's rail as the vessel cut through the calm waters, her knuckles whitening against the salt-slicked wood. The wind carried the sharp, almost medicinal scent of pine that grew thicker as the coastline approached—nothing like the pine of her homeland, this was older, wilder, carrying the faintest trace of something almost metallic beneath its clean surface. Vael turned at the sound of her footsteps, his blue eyes sharp and assessing as he took in her expression.
"Getting nervous?" he asked, his voice carrying easily over the creak of the ship's timbers and the steady rhythm of the waves against the hull.
Mira frowned, "What do you think? All I've been hearing these past few days is the terror of this island."
Vael chuckled, the sound dark and knowing as he turned back toward the approaching shoreline. His fingers tapped against the ship's rail, the rhythm measured and steady. "That's because the terror is real, Mira. These aren't stories to scare children at bedtime." He gestured toward the dense green mass of the island's interior, where the trees seemed to press forward like a living wall. "Every word I've said is truth."
The wind tugged at his dark hair, sending strands across his forehead as he spoke. "The air itself changes when you set foot on that beach. It feels... wrong. Like breathing underwater." He stalked away she rolled her eyes,
"Asshole." Vael didn't turn back, just lifted a hand in acknowledgment, the movement casual despite the intensity of his words. The ship continued its steady approach, the line of the shore now clear—dark sand meeting dense, towering trees, their canopies so thick they seemed to blot out the sky. The water was unnaturally still as they neared the shore, the wind dying down as if the island itself was holding its breath.
"The crew hates this part," Vael said after a long silence. He stood with his back to her, hands braced on the rail as he stared ahead. "They know what comes next. The silence. The watching." He glanced at her over his shoulder. Mira cocked an eyebrow, "How often do they make this trip and why?"
Vael turned fully toward her now, the wind catching the edges of his coat as he leaned back against the rail. "Not often enough to get used to it. Not rarely enough to forget."
His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied Mira. "The Empire sends traders here every few years. They bring what the Elves want—rare metals, fine cloth, human-made weapons they find amusing. In exchange, they get herbs that cure diseases no human healer can touch. Materials for their crafts that we can't reproduce. Knowledge of things we'd rather not know exist." His mouth twisted into something that wasn't quite a smile. "And of course, the occasional human sacrifice."
Vael smiled at her, "Don't be jealous now." He turned back to the approaching shore, his posture shifting subtly. "Watch the trees as we get closer."
Mira followed his gaze. The dense forest that had seemed so still from a distance now revealed movement—slight, but undeniable. The treetops swayed in a breeze that didn't seem to affect the lower branches, as if something beneath the canopy was stirring them deliberately. Or watching. The ship's movement changed, the waves no longer pushing them forward so much as carrying them in an unnatural current toward the shoreline. The crew moved with purpose now, tightening lines, securing cargo, speaking in hushed tones.
"We'll reach the shore in thirty minutes, get yourself situated and remember I am the Empress's emissary while you are part of my envoy. Get dressed and get out of those rags."
"Rags?" Mira scoffed, looking down at her well-worn but functional traveling clothes. "These are the only clothes I have that won't get torn to shreds the moment I step foot in the woods."
Vael sighed as he turned to face her fully, his blue eyes cool. "You look like what you are—a street rat who crawled into imperial service. The Elves will see that and know exactly what to expect from you." He moved closer, within inches of her face, his words softening to a dangerous purr. "But they don't need to know what you are. They need to think you're someone important. Someone worth... considering."
"Go, choose a proper dress from your wardrobe. Make haste." Mira hesitated, torn between irritation and the knowledge that Vael spoke truth.
She turned on her heel and stalked below deck, her boots echoing against the wooden planks. The cabin held a modest wardrobe, its contents carefully chosen for this exact purpose—a selection of dark colors and simple lines that spoke of authority without ostentation. She pulled out a charcoal-gray dress with silver embroidery along the hem, the fabric whispering as she lifted it from its hooks. The material was heavier than her usual clothes, designed to withstand the rigors of travel while still carrying the weight of someone who belonged in the highest circles.
As she dressed, the ship continued its inexorable progress toward the shore. She glanced at herself in the mirror the dress swallowed her figure, she pulled her thick dark brown hair into a tight braid down her back. She removed all her favorite jewels and after she finished she looked every bit a modest woman. She emerged onto the deck feeling the wind tug at her hair, the unfamiliar dress shifting against her legs as she walked. The shore loomed close now, the dark sand stretching out like a waiting maw. The trees behind it seemed to lean forward, their branches twisting unnaturally, as if reaching for the ship.
Vael stood at the bow, hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed the approaching land. He didn't turn as she approached, but his posture changed slightly—straighter, more alert.
"Much better," he said without looking at her. "At least now you look like you belong at an imperial dinner, rather than in the gutters where you usually prowl."
"And you call yourself a gentleman?" Vael turned his head slightly, a smirk flickering across his lips.
"Did you want me to lie and tell you that you look beautiful? Because that would be a lie." His eyes flicked up and down her form with deliberate slowness. "You look competent. You look like someone who might be worth the trouble of dealing with. That's the best I can do."
Mira rolled her eyes, "So what happens first? I'm assuming we can't just walk in."
Vael turned fully toward her now, his face hardening into something unreadable. "No. We can't just walk in." He gestured toward the shoreline where a path now became visible—a narrow strip of sand leading into the dense forest. "That's the only entrance the Elves allow humans to use. It's... ceremonial, I suppose you could call it."
The ship slowed as it neared the shore, the crew moving with precision born of too much experience. The wind had died completely now, leaving the air heavy and silent around them. The trees seemed to absorb sound, as if the very forest was holding its breath.
"When we land." "We'll be escorted to the Dawn Keeper's territory where he will asses each party. Once we pass then we'll go from there."
The ship came to a halt just short of the shore, the water so still it reflected the darkening sky like a mirror. Vael motioned to two crewmen who immediately lowered a small rowboat, their movements quick and economical. When it was ready, he turned to Mira with a look that was almost—almost—sympathetic.
"You ready for this?" he asked, the words quieter than his usual sharp tone.
Mira swallowed hard, her fingers curling around the railing as she stared at the waiting shore. The trees there seemed to pulse, their shadows moving in patterns that had nothing to do with the dying light. Something about the air felt wrong, pressing against her skin like an unseen hand. "No but, I'll manage."
Vael nodded once, sharply, then stepped into the waiting rowboat without ceremony. The wooden craft dipped under his weight, and he immediately took position at the oars, his movements fluid and controlled. He glanced back at her, his blue eyes holding a warning she couldn't quite place.
"Don't touch anything that doesn't look like it belongs in this world," he said, his voice low. "And whatever you do, don't let them see you're afraid."
The crew began lowering the boat slowly, rope creaking as the small craft descended toward the dark water. Mira stepped into the boat, feeling it rock beneath her feet as she settled opposite Vael.
Once in the small boat the forest was quiet, so quiet Mira felt as though she were witnessing the end of the world. As they approached saw figures their outlines taking her breath away. The first elves that they met stood motionless at the edge of the dark water, their pale skin seeming to glow in the strange twilight. Their eyes glowed like candle flames in the deepening shadows, and their hair—black as midnight and silver as starlight—moved in a wind that did not touch the air around them. They wore clothing that shimmered with its own inner light, fabric that seemed to shift between colors as they moved. The lead elf spoke in a voice like distant bells, the words flowing in a language that hurt to hear.
Vael translated for her, "Welcome to Vhaedrath, where the old blood still sings."
The lead elf's gaze shifted to Mira, his luminous eyes cutting through her as though peering straight through her skin. She stiffened, resisting the urge to shrink back as he studied her. His face was sharp-featured, ageless yet ancient, with high cheekbones and a mouth that seemed made for smiling and cruelty in equal measure. He wore a tunic of deep blue that seemed to catch and reflect the failing light, his silver hair braided back from his forehead. When he finally spoke again, the sound was like water over stones—flowing, unhurried, dangerous.
"She carries no weapon." His eyes never left hers. "No blade at her side. No steel in her hands."
She marveled at their beauty she could barely contain their nerves how is anyone supposed to focus.
Mira felt the elf's eyes bore into her, burning through the fabric of her dress like invisible fingers. Her fingers curled at her sides, itching for a weapon that wasn't there. She'd left her dagger in her cabin, following Vael's instructions. Now she regretted it acutely.
Vael translated smoothly, his voice even. "She is the Empress's envoy. She comes unarmed as a show of good faith."
The lead elf's lips curved slightly—not quite a smile, but something equally unreadable. His companions flanked him like silent sentinels, their own eyes reflecting the dying light. "Good faith," he echoed, the words carrying an unfamiliar weight. "How... quaint."
The lead elf then motioned for them to follow them, Mira clumsily struggled with coming off the small boat she sand did little to support her footing The elf's motion was delicate but unmistakable—a single flick of his wrist, as if shooing away an insect. His eyes never left hers, those glowing embers holding steady in the deepening twilight. The second she stepped onto the sand, something shifted. The shore felt wrong under her feet—not just foreign, but actively resisting her presence. The air had a density to it, pressing against her skin like thick water. The elves moved ahead with effortless grace, their bare feet leaving no impressions in the dark sand. Vael followed without hesitation, but Mira had to force herself to take each step forward. It felt like walking against the tide.
The lead elf turned his head slightly, catching her hesitation. "She struggles already," he observed, speaking with quiet amusement.
His companions chuckled softly, the sound like wind through winter branches. "The earth does not want her here."
Mira forced her shoulders back, refusing to show any sign of discomfort.
"That's because the earth recognizes me for what I am." The words left her mouth before she could think better of them, sharper than she intended. The lead elf stopped so abruptly that Vael had to sidestep to avoid colliding with him. His head tilted, considering her.
Vael's hand brushed her wrist in warning, but she barely felt it. The elf's eyes glowed more brightly now, as if she'd somehow struck a match inside them.
"Is that so?" he murmured, his voice carrying an edge of something that might have been interest or might have been danger. His companions had gone completely still, their luminous eyes fixed on her with sudden intensity. The lead elf took a single step closer, his presence commanding the space around him. He towered before her, his pale skin seeming to catch the dying light as he studied her face.
"What exactly do you think you are, little human?"
Mira opened her mouth to answer, but Vael cut her off smoothly, his voice carrying an edge of urgency. "She means no offense. The journey has been long, and her exhaustion makes her careless with her words."
Mira felt Vael's crushing grip she lowered her eyes, it pained her to be treated as such but she kept her gaze down. The lead elf's expression shifted, his gaze sliding from her to Vael with something akin to amusement.
"Exhaustion," he repeated, his voice carrying a note of dark humor. "How very... human." He turned away, his silver hair catching the dying light as he gestured toward the forest path. "Come. The Dawn Keeper awaits, and he does not like to be kept waiting."
Mira and Vael followed the elves along the narrow path that wound between towering trees. The air grew heavier as they moved deeper into the forest, thick with scents that were both familiar and wrong—pine mingled with something sweet and cloying, like rotting flowers.
By the time they arrived Mira's chest was heaving quietly, she wasn't known for her incredible stamina but the air here felt thinner almost non existent. The path opened into a clearing where a structure stood—if it could even be called that. It looked like the trunk of an impossibly massive tree had split in half, revealing its hollow center where light pulsed and moved in unnatural patterns. The wood was black as night, yet somehow absorbed the dying light from above rather than reflecting it. At the threshold stood another elf, this one taller than the others, his hair pale silver in the early morning. His features were sharper, more angular, his presence filling the clearing like a storm waiting to break. His clothing was a deep crimson that seemed to drink in the light around him, and where the others moved with fluid grace, he stood like something carved from stone.
Mira felt her breath catch and her heart race, she was nearly drenched in sweat but she contained her breathing she stayed close to Vael although they weren't allies at least he was human. The lead elf who had escorted them bowed slightly before this new figure, his words flowing in that strange, painful-to-hear language. Vael's shoulders tensed beside her as the Dawn Keeper's gaze flickered toward them.
"Empress's envoy," the lead elf said, the words seeming to echo unnaturally in the heavy air. "And... his companion."
The Dawn Keeper's eyes found Mira first, locking onto hers with an intensity that made her stomach twist. His irises were silver-white, like polished metal in the light of the setting sun. He took a single step forward, and the air around him rippled as if reality itself strained to keep up with his movement. Her heart raced she stole a glance at Vael but her knees nearly buckled over when she looked away.
"You." The Dawn Keeper's voice was deep, layered, and somehow ancient. It carried with it the weight of something vast and unknowable. "You are not what you seem."
Vael stiffened beside her, his fingers twitching as if resisting the urge to reach for a weapon. "The Empress has sent her envoy," he said, his words careful, measured. "This woman is to be treated as an imperial representative. She comes in peace."
The Dawn Keeper's mouth curved—not quite a smile, but something sharper, more calculating. "Peace," he echoed, the word rolling off his tongue like a riddle. "That is what they always say before the knife finds its mark."
Mira locked eyes with the creature before her, it made sick in an instant her stomach flipped. She felt her body grow warm and she knew she was drenched in sweat, but she knew she had to say something before they killed them on the spot. Instead she bowed as deeply as she could memories of her time in the order flaring in behind her eyes.
"Peace," she repeated, her voice steady despite the churning in her stomach. "Not a knife." The Dawn Keeper's expression shifted, his silver-white eyes narrowing as he studied her. The lead elf beside him shifted, his luminous gaze flickering between her and the Dawn Keeper. The air in the clearing grew heavier, charged with something unspoken that made the hairs on her arms stand on end.
"What is your name, little envoy?" the Dawn Keeper asked, his voice carrying an unfamiliar cadence. "And why does your heartbeat sound like a rabbit's caught in a snare?"
His nostrils flared slightly as he spoke, as if tasting the air around her. She kept her gaze low, "M-Mira, F-Forgive me I-I don't feel well." She said that last part without thought, she sucked in her breath her eyes snapping up to his on instinct if she was going to be killed where she stood she at least wanted a better look of his eyes.
The moment her gaze met his, his face darkened like a storm cloud rolling in. The air around him shimmered with energy, and the pulse in her throat quickened violently. His lips parted slightly, as if tasting the air between them, and his silver-white eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.
Mira took a step back her eyes widening she could feel Vael's disapproval on her, "Humans are weak."
"They break easily," the Dawn Keeper murmured, taking a slow step toward her. His bare feet made no sound against the dark earth, as if the very ground hesitated to acknowledge his presence. "You're body is struggling to keep up with the rapid changes in enviornment." Another step. The air between them grew thick, charged like the moment before lightning strikes.
Then he sighed, "She's about to collapse. Show them to their dwellings."
The lead elf gave a slight nod and gestured toward a path branching off from the clearing. Vael's grip on Mira's back tightened slightly as he began guiding her away, his breath hot against her ear.
"Don't look back," he murmured. She nodded but she was unable to take another step on that moment she fell to her knees Vael caught her his anger flaring in his eyes. He looked as though he wanted to strangle her. She heard them speaking over her, "Burning up....."
The Dawn Keeper loomed in her peripheral vision, his presence casting a shadow over her. His scent—something like rain and ozone and old parchment—wrapped around her like a physical thing. Her vision swam, the world tilting dangerously as Vael's arm locked around her waist, keeping her upright with obvious reluctance. "
She's fevered," Vael said tersely. "The human body isn't made for this place."
The Dawn Keeper made a low sound in his throat—not quite a word, but something that vibrated through the air nonetheless. Mira shut her eyes succumbing to the heat completely.
******
She jolted up as though she had merely blinked, she was gasping for air but to her surprise she was in a bed. The room was dark, the air cool and strange against her skin. When she sat up, she found herself in a narrow bed, its frame made of black wood that seemed to absorb the dim light rather than reflect it. The sheets beneath her were smooth and cool to the touch, woven from a fabric she didn't recognize. She wasn't alone.
Vael sat in a chair near the bed, his arms crossed as he watched her with an expression caught between irritation and concern. He had shed his coat, leaving him in a loose white shirt that strained slightly across his shoulders. His hair was disheveled, as if he'd run his fingers through it repeatedly.
"You're awake," he said, the words sounding almost accusatory. Mira tensed, words spilling from her lips "I apologize I never expected this to-"
"I told you to stay quiet," Vael cut in, his words sharp as steel. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his blue eyes burning with restrained frustration. "You don't talk to them like that. You don't challenge them. You don't look them in the eyes like you have something to say." He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "That's how humans die here."
Mira pulled the strange sheets tighter around herself, suddenly aware of how exposed she was in her sweat-dampened clothes. The fever still clung to her skin, making her shiver despite the cool air. "I know," she said, her voice hoarse.
"I'm sorry. It was instinct." Vael's expression shifted, something complex passing behind his eyes before he looked away. "Instinct," he repeated, the word tasting bitter in his mouth. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it even more disheveled. "Instinct gets people killed here."
The silence stretched between them, heavy and thick. Through the windowless walls, she could hear the distant sounds of the elf settlement—the strange, musical language they spoke, the soft padding of bare feet against stone, the rustle of fabric that seemed to whisper in the wind. The bed dipped slightly as Vael stood, his movements fluid and controlled.
"You've already made a show of yourself the only human to collapse the first day of the summit. You were supposed to blend in not stand out."
His words weren't cruel, just matter-of-fact, and somehow that made it worse. Mira swallowed hard, her throat still raw from the fever that had gripped her earlier. "I know," she said again, quieter this time. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "It won't happen again."
Vael studied her for a long moment, his face impossible to read in the dim light. Then he sighed and turned away, moving to a small table where a pitcher of water and two cups sat. He poured one with deliberate slowness, the sound of liquid filling the cup echoing in the quiet room. "The only good thing about this is we're staying in the Dawn Keeper's castle. If you made this up you're incredibly smart."
He set the cup down with a soft clink and extended it to her. Mira hesitated for just a second before reaching for it, her fingers brushing against his as she took it. The water was cool, almost too cool, but it soothed her throat as she drank. She took a few careful sips, aware of how closely Vael was watching her. When she finished, he took the cup back and set it aside.
"You're still fevered," he observed, his eyes flickering to her flushed skin.
"They brought some kind of medicine. I don't know what it is, but they said it would help."
"Rest. There's a ledger of the event's of the summit familiarize yourself with it and try not to make a fool of yourself. I'll be staying on the opposite end of the castle. They separate the men and woman. Once we know more we'll devise a plan we have to find the ring. The summit is only six months."
Mira nodded, clutching the strange sheets tighter around her. The bed felt foreign beneath her—too soft, too firm, unfamiliar in a way she couldn't quite define. The air smelled of something she couldn't name, something that made her head swim faintly. Vael watched her for another moment, his face revealing little before he turned away.
"Try to sleep," he said, moving toward the door. "Tomorrow, you'll need your strength." Then he was gone, the door sliding shut behind him with an eerie silence. The room felt instantly colder without his presence, though she couldn't say why. She lay back against the unfamiliar pillows, staring up at the black ceiling above her.