5. Vera
5
VERA
M y eyes snap open, and I bolt upright. The scratchy blanket falls to my waist as my heart pounds against my ribs. The dream clings to my thoughts, refusing to fade like normal dreams do. His voice still echoes in my mind, deep and compelling.
"You are worth more than they say."
My hands tremble as I push back my tangled hair. The dim light filtering through the cracks in my door tells me it's not yet dawn. The mansion sleeps, silent except for the occasional creak of ancient wood.
"It can't be real," I whisper to myself, but even as the words leave my lips, I remember everything. The way he appeared from the shadows, his presence both terrifying and oddly comforting.
I close my eyes, trying to piece together the fragments of my dream. His form shifts like smoke in my memory, refusing to stay still. But those eyes... those piercing green eyes remain crystal clear, glowing with an ancient power that made my breath catch.
"What was he?" I whisper to myself, drawing my knees to my chest.
In the dream, shadows had played across his features, but I remember catching glimpses of something incredible. A flash of scales, iridescent in what little light there was. The curve of a massive tail, coiling through the darkness. Not human, definitely not human.
My fingers twist in the thin blanket. "His tail... it moved like water." The memory sends a shiver down my spine. I'd seen only portions of it, disappearing into the shadows, but what I'd glimpsed had been beautiful in a terrifying way.
But those eyes hold my thoughts captive. They'd seemed to see right through me, filled with knowledge and something else I couldn't name. Green as summer leaves, but with an otherworldly glow that marked him as something more than mortal.
"Aurel," I test his name on my tongue, barely above a whisper. Even now, hours later, I can feel the weight of his gaze, the way he'd looked at me like I was worth something.
The rest of him remains frustratingly unclear - a collection of half-glimpses and impressions that slip away when I try to focus on them. But those fragments I can recall make my heart race with equal parts fear and fascination. That, and the stories he told me about the dark elves' cruelty. about being their prisoner. About me having powers I never knew existed.
I look down at my pale, thin hands. They're the same hands that have scrubbed floors and carried trays for as long as I can remember. Nothing special. Nothing powerful.
"Just a dream." My voice sounds hollow in the darkness of my tiny room. "It didn't mean anything."
But if it was just a dream, why does my chest ache with a strange new feeling? Why do his words keep repeating in my head, making me question everything I've ever believed about myself?
The floorboards outside my room creak, and I quickly lie back down, pulling the blanket up to my chin. It was just a dream. It had to be. Because if it wasn't...
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to force away the dangerous whisper of hope that threatens to take root in my heart.
My joints creak as I push myself up from the thin straw mattress. Every movement sends daggers of pain through my muscles, but I force myself to stand. The stone floor bites at my bare feet, a familiar discomfort.
"You are more than what they say." His voice echoes in my head, clear as crystal despite the hours that have passed since the dream.
I shuffle to the water basin, splashing my face. The cold water does little to chase away his words or the memory of those piercing green eyes. My reflection in the murky water shows the same pale, gaunt face I've always known.
The great hall stretches before me, littered with the remains of Lady Morana's festivities. Half-eaten food, spilled wine, and mud tracked across the stone floors. I dip my brush in the bucket and begin scrubbing.
"More than what they say?" I mutter to myself, attacking a particularly stubborn wine stain. "What could that even mean?"
A piece of fruit pulp sticks to my fingers as I work. The sweet smell has turned sour overnight, much like my thoughts.
"I can barely lift this bucket." My arms shake with the effort of scrubbing. "I get winded climbing stairs."
Two dark elf servants pass by, their boots deliberately stepping in my clean patch of floor. They snicker, but I keep my head down. Their laughter fades down the corridor.
My brush moves in steady circles as I consider the creature from my dream. That massive form, the scales that caught what little light there was. The way he looked at me like I was... something. Someone.
"But I'm not," I whisper to the floor. "I'm just..." My voice trails off as I notice my knuckles have gone white around the brush handle. "I'm nothing. I've always been nothing."
The words taste bitter in my mouth, but they're familiar. Safe. The alternative is too dangerous to consider.
I shake my head, trying to focus on the wine stain beneath my brush. The bristles scratch against stone in a familiar rhythm, but his words keep echoing.
"You have strength. You just haven't seen it yet."
My arms ache as I dip the brush back in the bucket. Water sloshes over the rim, soaking my already damp skirts.
"Strength?" I mutter, scrubbing harder. "What strength?"
A shadow falls across my work. Lady Morana's youngest daughter stands over me, her silver hair gleaming in the torchlight. Her eyes flicker green, and I see the fury creep into them like a slow-moving shadow.
"You missed a spot." She points to the section I just cleaned. "Do it again."
I bow my head. "Yes, my lady."
She kicks the bucket, sending dirty water across the floor I spent hours cleaning. "All of it. Again."
My chest tightens as she walks away, her laughter bouncing off the stone walls. I stare at the spreading puddle, at my distorted reflection in the murky water.
His voice whispers again in my mind. "You are more than what they say."
"Stop it," I hiss to myself, pressing my palms against my temples. "Just stop."
But the memory of those green eyes burns through my thoughts, seeing something in me I can't understand. Something I'm afraid to believe exists.
My fingers curl against the cold stone. It would be easier to stay small, to remain invisible. To accept what everyone knows to be true.
But for the first time in my life, I'm not sure what's true anymore.
Lady Morana's chambers reek of expensive perfume as I scrub the marble floor. Two dark elf guards lounge by the doorway, picking at a platter of fresh fruits and meats I brought up earlier.
"Look at her, crawling around like a worm," one guard says through a mouthful of food.
"Pathetic." The other tosses a grape that hits my back. "Can't even clean properly. See those streaks?"
I keep my head down, but something stirs in my chest. Aurel's words from my dream echo: "You are more than what they say."
"Hey, defect." The first guard kicks at my bucket. "You missed a spot. Right there."
My hands pause on the brush. What if... what if they're wrong? The thought sends a jolt through me, dangerous and thrilling. I've never questioned them before.
"Are you deaf as well as useless?" He steps closer.
"No, sir." I dip my brush in the bucket, but my heart pounds. This new feeling frightens me. Hope. It's like holding something sharp – exciting but likely to draw blood.
They turn back to their food, laughing about some cruel joke. I glance up through my lashes at their plate of untouched delicacies. Their backs are turned.
My throat is dry as I stand to refill their water goblets. Before I can stop myself, I lean over their plates. A small glob of spit falls onto their food. I mix it in quickly with a spoon, my pulse racing.
"About time," one guard grumbles as I retreat.
They continue eating, oblivious. A tiny smile tugs at my lips as I return to scrubbing. It's a small act of defiance, but it fills me with a strange warmth. For the first time, I've done something they don't know about. Something they can't punish me for.
I duck my head to hide my expression, but inside, that dangerous spark of hope flares brighter.
The door to my tiny room creaks shut behind me, and I sink onto my thin mattress. My muscles ache from the day's work, but it's not the physical pain that keeps me from lying down. Those green eyes flash in my memory again, burning with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
"Power." I stretch out my fingers in the dim light, studying their trembling weakness. "He said I had power."
The word feels foreign on my tongue. Power has always belonged to others - to the dark elves with their cruel smiles and glowing eyes, to the human overseers with their heavy hands and sharp words. Never to me.
I press my palms against my chest, searching for something, anything that might feel different. But there's only the familiar flutter of my weak heart, the constant wheeze in my lungs.
"Where?" I whisper to the shadows. "Where is this strength you saw?"
My fingers curl into fists. I've never felt powerful. Not when Lady Morana's daughter made me scrub the same floor three times today. Not when the guards spat in my food. Not even when I managed that tiny act of rebellion.
But Aurel had looked at me like... like he could see something I couldn't. Something valuable. Worth saving.
"It was just a dream," I tell myself again, but the words ring hollow. Dreams fade by morning, becoming hazy and distant. This one stays sharp, every detail crystal clear. The way his massive form moved through shadow, the echo of his voice in my mind, those piercing eyes that seemed to see right through me.
I lie back, staring up at the ceiling. "What did you see in me?" My whisper disappears into the darkness. "What secrets do you know?"
The silence offers no answers, but for the first time in my life, I find myself hoping to dream again. Hoping to see those green eyes, to hear that voice tell me once more that I'm worth something.
My heart pounds at the thought. Hope is dangerous. Hope hurts. But I can't seem to push it away.