Chapter 5: Where I Woke

Aylin's POV

I woke to silence.

Not the kind that belonged to empty fields or sleeping villages, but a deeper quiet—thick, deliberate, as though the walls themselves were listening. For a moment, I didn’t move. I lay still, eyes closed, trying to remember how I had gotten here.

Stone.

Pain.

Silver light.

The ceiling above me arched high and pale, carved from smooth stone veined faintly with silver. Light filtered down from tall windows draped in sheer fabric that stirred gently, though I felt no wind. The room smelled of clean linen and something unfamiliar—warm, like old magic and rain.

This was not my home.

I pushed myself upright slowly, dizziness washing over me in a soft wave. The bed beneath me was wide and impossibly soft, layered with dark velvet and pale silks embroidered with patterns I didn’t recognize. My fingers sank into the fabric, hesitant, half-expecting it to vanish like a dream.My chest tightened as fragments returned, sharp and disjointed. I opened my eyes.

It didn’t.

Panic fluttered in my chest.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, bare feet touching cold stone. The chill grounded me, sharp and real. I was awake. Wherever this place was, it wasn’t imagined.

The room was beautiful in a way that felt restrained rather than welcoming. Tall columns lined the walls, carved with symbols that glowed faintly when I looked at them too long. A long mirror stood opposite the bed, framed in dark metal etched with silver runes.

When I caught my reflection, I barely recognized myself—hair loose and tangled, eyes too bright against my pale face.

Someone had changed my clothes.

I wore a simple gown of soft gray, light as mist, cinched loosely at the waist. It wasn’t elaborate, but the fabric was fine—nothing anyone from my village would own. The realization sent a cold prickle down my spine.

I wrapped my arms around myself.

The memory of collapsing returned then—the sudden weakness, the darkness rushing in. And before that… him. The cursed man. The way pain had twisted his face, the way the air had screamed around him.

Had he brought me here?

The thought made my heart pound.

I stood and took a cautious step, then another, moving slowly across the room. Each sound felt too loud—the soft brush of fabric, the faint echo of my breath. I crossed to the window and peered out from behind the sheer curtain.

Stone towers rose beyond the glass, pale and immense, bathed in silver light. Courtyards lay far below, quiet and guarded. This wasn’t a house.

It was a castle.

A strange ache stirred in my chest—not fear exactly, but something quieter. Displacement. The unsettling sense of being somewhere I was not meant to be, yet had somehow arrived all the same.

I turned back toward the room.

On a small table beside the bed sat a glass of water and a folded cloak, dark and heavy. Proof that someone had been here recently.

Watching. Waiting.

I swallowed.

Whoever ruled this place had decided I would wake here.

And suddenly, I was very aware of how small and human I was—alone in a royal room, in a land I did not understand, with questions no one had yet answered.

Somewhere beyond the thick stone walls, I felt it again.

That quiet pull.

And I knew—whatever had happened in the forest had not ended when I lost consciousness.

It had only begun.

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