He has been away for a couple of hours now, but I am still sitting at the same table where he left me. Finally, I have peace.
However, I have another dilemma to deal with. I can't even enjoy this moment because my body is far from at peace.
I feel like I'm burning up. It's as if I have a fever, and the heat keeps building with each passing moment. My abdomen is starting to cramp from my period, and a dull headache is creeping in, making everything feel even worse.
What a day. To think I decided to go out in this state.
And to make matters worse, there are no cell phones here. I can't just send a quick message and have someone from the manor come to fetch me.
I remind myself that I need to get one of those magic transponders they sell at the magic shop. We have one back at home, but it's a massive crystal ball—not exactly something I can carry around. It's ridiculous that I had to experience something like this before realizing how useful a portable one would be.
Come to think of it, it has already been a week since my coming-of-age ceremony. My birthday was on the same day, and in all the busyness that followed, I completely forgot.
A week after my birthday—
I stiffen. How could I have forgotten?
Every year, without fail, a severe fever strikes exactly a week after my birthday. The servants had reminded me days ago, yet I still managed to forget. Last year was my first time experiencing it firsthand, though I already knew this had plagued Aerin since childhood. And now, once again, I find myself trapped in its grasp, burning up from the inside out.
The original Aerin… she had died from this fever two years ago.
That time had been the worst case, the most severe. And yet, here I am, feeling the familiar sensation of heat crawling through my skin, my body growing heavier by the second. It's uncomfortable, taxing, and unbearable. Moving feels like a chore. My breathing grows shallow, and beads of sweat roll down my temple.
I need to leave.
I glance around and spot a staff member from the café not too far from me.
"E-Excuse… me?" I call out weakly.
The man, dressed in the café's uniform, looks around for the source of the voice before his gaze finally lands on me. His eyes widen slightly as he notices my pale face, and he quickly makes his way over.
"Miss, are you alright?" he asks, concern lacing his voice.
"I… I don't feel well," I admit, forcing my dry throat to form the words. "Would you please call a carriage for me? To... Duke Melenheim's."
The staff member nods immediately. "Of course! Please wait here, I'll get one right away. Do you need water?"
I shake my head weakly. "Just… the carriage, please."
He gives me one last worried glance before rushing off.
I try to sit upright, willing myself to stay conscious, but my mind is growing hazy. My body feels unbearably heavy, and my vision blurs slightly. I don't know how much time passes, but the next thing I remember is the sound of approaching footsteps.
"Miss? We have a carriage ready for you," the staff member says gently.
I blink sluggishly and look up. He's not alone this time—he's brought another staff member, a young woman who now stands beside him with equal concern in her eyes.
"Can you stand, miss?" she asks.
I try, but the moment I move, my legs wobble beneath me. Without hesitation, they both step forward, carefully supporting me from either side.
"Easy now," the male staff member murmurs, adjusting his grip so that I don't collapse.
I barely have the strength to thank them as they guide me down the stairs and toward the waiting carriage outside. The fresh air does little to soothe the fever scorching through my veins.
"We've informed the driver of your destination," the woman reassures me as they help me into the carriage. "You'll be home soon."
I nod faintly, my body sagging into the cushioned seat as they close the door behind me.
The moment the carriage starts moving, I feel the rhythmic sway of the ride. My eyes flutter shut, the exhaustion overwhelming me.
Thud!
A jolt ran through me, and my eyes snapped open. My head throbbed, heavy with exhaustion, my mind struggling to shake off the fog of sleep.
Where… am I?
Blinking against the dim light, I glanced around. I was inside a carriage, its interior swaying slightly from an unseen force. The seat beneath me was unfamiliar, the thick scent of aged wood and leather filling the air.
I inhaled deeply, trying to gather my bearings.
"Hello?" My voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper. I cleared my throat and called again, louder this time. "Is anyone there?"
Silence.
Something felt wrong. The carriage wasn't moving. No sound of hooves against the dirt, no rhythmic creak of wheels. Just stillness.
A sense of unease prickled at the back of my neck.
Frowning, I reached for the window and pushed it open. A gust of cool air rushed in, brushing against my skin like icy fingers.
My stomach twisted.
The scene outside was... empty.
Just an endless stretch of grass and wild, overgrown weeds swaying beneath the pale night sky. No road, no buildings, no sign of civilization—only a vast, open field stretching endlessly in all directions. The moon hung high, casting an eerie glow over the landscape, but it wasn't enough to push back the suffocating darkness.
Where was I?
I hesitated before gripping the door handle and pushing it open. The wooden step creaked beneath my weight as I climbed out, the night air curling around me like an unwelcome embrace. The moment my shoes touched the earth, a strange sensation prickled at my skin—an unnatural stillness, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Then I noticed it.
The horses were gone.
The coachman was missing.
The carriage sat abandoned in the middle of nowhere, no tracks, no movement, no sound beyond the distant rustling of grass.
I was alone.
The silence was thick, almost tangible, pressing against my ears until even the sound of my own breath felt intrusive. The air carried an unnatural chill, seeping into my bones, making each inhale sharp and stinging.
Darkness stretched endlessly around me, swallowing everything beyond my limited sight. The stars above flickered dimly, distant and indifferent, unable to pierce the abyss in which I now stood.
Then, in the faint moonlight, I noticed something—just barely—a narrow, worn-down path cutting through the wild grass. A lone trail in this vast, desolate hill.
With no other choice, I began to walk.
Each step is agony. My legs ache, trembling with exhaustion, yet I press on, the sound of my own breathing the only thing accompanying me.
"Hah... hah... hah... hah..."
My shoes drag against the dry, cracked earth, a faint whisper in the stillness. Weeds, brittle and sharp, brush against my clothes, hissing as if in warning.
The hill climbs higher, unyielding, infinite. I don't know how long I've been walking, only that there is no end in sight.
Should I continue? Or should I turn back?
I hesitate, casting a glance over my shoulder.
But there is nothing behind me—only a vast stretch of emptiness, a road that has long disappeared into oblivion. I have come too far. To return would mean surrendering to the void.
Hours pass.
My breath is uneven, shallow.
My vision blurs.
My body is leaden, weighed down by exhaustion.
Yet just as I think I might collapse, I see it.
An end.
A tree stands at the edge of a cliff, massive and ancient, its thick branches sprawling out like twisted veins against the night. It should be shrouded in darkness, yet it glows—a deep, pulsating red, as though blood flows through its bark instead of sap.
The air shifts.
A sudden, unfamiliar melody rises with the wind, wrapping around the night like a whispered omen. It's not music, not exactly—it's something older, something heavy, as if the very air is trying to speak.
Then, a sharp gust cuts through me like a blade, icy and relentless. The sound deepens, ancient and unreadable, pressing against my ears, crawling beneath my skin.
The wind is saying something… but I cannot understand.
I shudder violently. My teeth clatter, my hands clench into fists, but my legs… my legs do not move. They have locked in place, as if bound by unseen chains.
I am being watched.
The realization creeps up my spine, slow and insidious. There is something here—something unseen, lurking within the howling wind. A presence heavy with judgment, thick with hostility.
The next breath I take feels wrong.
The moment I shift my footing—just a single step backward—the world changes.
The grass... the whole ground vanishes beneath me.
Cold.
A frigid, merciless cold engulfs me, swallowing me whole. I am no longer standing. I am sinking. My body is submerged in an endless, dark abyss of water. My limbs thrash, desperate, but the liquid is thick—clinging, dragging me down.
My lungs burn.
The muffled sound lingers—not from the air this time, but from the water. Ripples form, slow and rhythmic, building into waves that press against me, pulling me deeper.
I claw upward, but there is no surface, no escape.
And then, the water changes.
The darkness turns crimson, bleeding into every corner of my vision. The glow of the tree above intensifies, shifting from red to something darker, something sickly—something like congealed blood dripping from its branches.
The water seeps into my mouth, thick and metallic.
I can't breathe.
The pressure builds, crushing my chest, squeezing my ribs like a vice. I reach out, grasping at nothing, my fingers clawing at the void above. But there is no air. No light. Only the suffocating weight of the bloodstained abyss pulling me deeper, deeper—
A shiver rattles through me.
I do not want to die again.
I do not want to die.
I do not want to face whatever waits for me below.
"H—help…"
My voice is weak, barely a whisper against the suffocating dark. The last thing I see is the tree above, watching. Unmoving. Silent.
And then, I am pulled under.
"Hah!"
My eyes snapped open, wide with fear, my body trembling as I gasped for breath. Sweat clung to my skin, drenching me from head to toe, my limbs heavy with exhaustion.
A dream—no, a nightmare.
With a shaky hand, I cupped my forehead and felt the damp towel resting there. I pulled it off, clutching it tightly to my chest, still trying to steady my erratic breathing. The warmth of my bed wrapped around me, a stark contrast to the lingering chill of terror from my dream.
I turned my head, my gaze adjusting to the dim glow of my bedroom. The familiar canopy stretched above me, its soft drapes unmoving in the still air.
I'm home.
I lay there for a while, staring at the fabric above me, my mind reeling from the nightmare that had felt all too real. The unease in my chest refused to fade, an unshakable sense of uncertainty gripping me.
It wasn't just a bad dream—it was something more. It felt as if the void knew me, as if it had been searching for me all along. Watching. Waiting. A presence unseen yet suffocating, its weight pressing down on me even now. Something I couldn't explain.
Eventually, I forced myself to move. My clothes clung uncomfortably to my damp skin, and I peeled them off, shivering as the cool night air met my fevered body. Stripping the soaked sheets from my bed, I found the thick, dry cover beneath and pulled it over myself.
Despite the suffocating heat of my fever, the night was cold.
Sinking back into the mattress, I curled under the heavy fabric, hoping—praying—that sleep would come quickly and that, when I woke, I would feel better.
That the lingering weight of my nightmare would finally disappear—
Along with this fever.