NINETEEN #2
They hadn’t discussed it again, and she had been careful not to get too close to him since he’d nearly kissed her. Again.
The light of the early morning sun woke him, filtering through the windows next to him, searing at his closed eyelids.
Amelia woke not long afterwards. Their stilted conversation before bathing and dressing frustrated him, but he could sense her withdrawing, whether out of fear of them becoming closer or out of self-preservation, he wasn’t sure.
“With the conference this morning…” Amelia said on a sigh, “I—”
“You can present,” Silas interrupted her, shaking his arm into the sleeve of his cloak.
She stayed silent, so when he was finished adjusting the fabric around his shoulders, he glanced up.
Amelia just looked at him with little discernible expression.
“I assume, from our history of fighting over who gets to relay findings, that that’s what you were going to say? ”
Her lips pressed together before looking away, shuffling some notes before her. “I suppose so.”
He picked up his journal filled with his musings and sketches from the Rift and shoved it into his pocket. “Then we’re all set. I’ll be in the Spire to keep looking for more texts while we await father’s journals. I’ll meet you in the grand conference hall before it begins.”
She gave him a single nod but wouldn’t look at him. So, he left.
The grand hall of the Lux Spire always made Silas feel unusually small.
The vaulted ceilings, the towering bookshelves stacked with centuries of knowledge, the hushed reverence of scholars who roamed like ghosts.
It was an intimidating place. Even now, walking alongside Amelia, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, the weight of history pressing down on his shoulders.
They had met a half hour before, returning a little too easily to their wooden academic relationship, like the past few weeks had never happened.
Amelia ran through her ideas for the presentation, which she had nailed, as expected.
Amelia would deliver the findings of their Rift expedition, the glyphs discovered, the magical signature of the place, and the disruption of midnight that warranted their hasty retreat.
They were welcomed into the hall by the scholars, standing in a mingling mass of academics, chatting idly before the conference began.
The room was abuzz with enquiries and theories on the Rift and the rapid expansion of its borders.
It was an odd thing to witness, how the scholars talked of this abomination with the wide-eyed looks of those who were thrilled to have something so puzzling to work on, when Silas couldn’t help looking at it with nothing but burdensome loathing and terror.
He was thankful when the chatter turned to other, safer topics which didn’t cause his chest to feel like it might implode from both his and Amelia’s feelings swamping him.
For a few brief moments, everything felt normal. Like before their expedition, before the cuts.
Then Silas felt something tingle unpleasantly down his spine, an awareness that had his eyes wandering beyond those speaking softly in their little group, searching across the other faces in the hall.
He noticed him almost immediately, standing near the back, watching them with an intensity that unsettled him.
Tall and well-dressed in the manner of someone accustomed to power, his eyes gleamed with something he couldn’t quite place.
It was only when he approached them just before the presentation, a smooth smile playing on his lips, that Silas began to feel the air grow heavier, as if the very space around them had shifted.
He moved uneasily on his feet as the older man strode closer to him and Amelia.
“Dr. Winslow,” came his smooth, cultured voice.
Amelia frowned as she turned towards the man addressing her, taking in the aged, yet handsome features with his salt-and-pepper hair and assessing eyes.
Silas wondered if she felt the strange energy radiating from him.
He smiled at her, and Silas had the urge to step between them, shielding her.
“I must admit, your findings are far more intriguing than I could have imagined. The Rift, the midnight issues you experienced firsthand. Quite a revelation.”
Silas scrutinised the man, familiar with the look on his face. It was the kind of admiration that always had strings attached.
“Thank you,” she said, offering a polite but distant smile. “It was an interesting, yet dangerous journey. And I’m sorry…have we met?” Amelia’s tone was courteous, though her eyes were sharp as a knife, betraying her discomfort and distrust.
“No,” the man said, stepping closer, gaze drifting to Silas with a keen interest. “I’m Demetrius, an avid Rift enthusiast and scientist. I’ve followed your work for a while, as well as your companion’s.
” Demetrius’ strange eyes shifted over Silas in an uncomfortable perusal. “You’ve been through quite an ordeal.”
Silas met Demetrius’s gaze with the same measured neutrality he wore in the presence of those he didn’t trust. “We’ve learned a great deal,” he said, tone even. “Some of it more than we bargained for.”
Demetrius’ smile deepened, as if finding the words more telling than they had been intended. “I can imagine. The magic in that place…it’s unlike anything anyone in this world has encountered. It must have been…overwhelming.”
Amelia stiffened.
There was a subtle edge to his tone that made his skin prickle. He wasn’t speaking as a scientist, not entirely. He was probing for something.
“Were you planning on continuing your research into the Rift after your findings?” Demetrius asked, leaning just a little too close to Amelia. “There is much more to uncover, I’m sure.”
She glanced at Silas, face unreadable, thoughts hidden behind a mask he knew all too well. It conveyed her lack of desire to explain further, but Demetrius looked at her insistently.
“We’re…considering it,” Amelia said cautiously, “but there are more pressing matters at hand.” She couldn’t quite keep the unease from her voice.
“Of course,” Demetrius said, smile never fading. “The unknown is always daunting. But I must admit, the opportunity to study the Rift’s mysteries firsthand is something I couldn’t pass on.”
His eyes gleamed with an intensity that had the room feeling colder than before. There was something about him he couldn’t place. It wasn’t just scientific interest; it was too deep, too personal. His gaze lingered too long, like he was assessing, weighing their value.
“We’ve made some significant discoveries,” Silas said, steering the conversation back to safer waters, “but not all of them are for public consumption.”
Demetrius raised an eyebrow, interest piqued. “Ah, secrets. How intriguing. I respect that, truly. But should you ever decide to share, or if you need assistance in furthering your research, don’t hesitate to call on me.”
There was an undeniable weight in his words, and Silas felt a sudden, sharp need to be rid of him. His interest felt too calculated, too directed.
“We’ll keep that in mind,” Amelia said amiably, while Silas’ chest ached with her unease, “thank you.”
Demetrius’s gaze flickered between them before his smile widened, taking a step back and bowing slightly in mock deference.
“Of course. Until then, I trust you will continue your work with the same enthusiasm. The Rift holds more than anyone can imagine. I look forwards to your presentation.” He gave a subtle wink before turning, his long coat trailing behind him like a shadow.
When he was out of earshot, Silas exhaled, the tension in his shoulders slowly unwinding.
“What was that?” Amelia muttered to Silas.
He didn’t immediately answer, eyes following Demetrius’s retreating figure. When he spoke, his voice was low, laced with caution. “I don’t trust him, Winslow. There’s something off about him. It’s like he…knew.” The last words were soft, only loud enough for her to hear.
“I don’t either,” she admitted, eyes shifting uneasily around the crowded room. “We need to be careful…I can’t help but sense we’re in dangerous territory right now.”
Silas nodded, jaw tight. He turned his head, finding the back of Demetrius’ head, eyes narrowing with growing suspicion. “If he’s a scientist, then I’m the King of Veilthorne. But I think we’ve just made ourselves a target.”
Silas stood beside the podium, arms folded, watching Amelia present their findings.
It was a familiar sight by now. Her voice steady, authoritative, outlining their discoveries with precision.
She was in her element, speaking on the ancient runes of the Gemino tribe, the unstable magic they’d uncovered, and the midnight chaos that had led to the Rift Crawlers' attack.
He had heard her deliver presentations countless times over their career, but today felt different.
The room was heavier, more expectant, filled with the weight of scholars and curious minds.
She spoke eloquently, hand poised over a map of the Rift, pointing to runic symbols they had found etchings of.
It wasn’t long before something changed.
Silas saw it instantly, before anyone else in the room seemed to notice.
Her hand faltered mid-air. The words she had been saying, the ones she knew by heart, hung in the air unspoken. Her breath caught in her throat, a hitch that made her voice falter.
For a second, Amelia looked like she might crumble under some unseen weight, her confidence cracking.
Silas’ gaze narrowed, perplexed by the abrupt change in demeanour.
His heart stuttered behind his ribs. He couldn’t place it at first, but something was very wrong, something far more personal than the lecture or their findings.
It was the way her eyes flickered nervously to the back of the room, where the shadows fell heavier, as if a presence had appeared that only she could feel.
He followed her frightened gaze, and he saw it.
At the back of the crowd, standing behind a group of scholars, was a familiar face.
Two familiar faces.
Her parents.
Silas’ stomach twisted into a tight knot. Amelia’s posture was rigid, like a startled animal. The colour had drained from her face, leaving behind a stark whiteness. Her eyes darted to them, then away, but the damage had been done.
She was frozen.
Her lips parted as though to speak, though the words caught somewhere in her chest, strangled by the sudden, overwhelming panic that surged through her.
Silas experienced it flooding his own chest, cloying his emotions.
He saw the tremor in her hands, the quickening of her breath, the way her shoulders hunched as if trying to physically shrink away from all the eyes in the room.
She was having a panic attack.
It took him a moment to process it, never having seen Amelia like this. She was always so composed, focused. He had seen her face danger, seen her face uncertainty, but this…this was different. The way her chest heaved, the way she couldn’t steady her breath.
Silas’ heart faltered, eyes flitting to the back of the room, at the people standing there.
Amelia’s parents. They looked unchanged from what he knew, from what their portraits hanging in the Spire looked like.
Cold, stern, as they always had been. Highly regarded academics, but never the warm, welcoming kind.
But to Amelia, Silas sensed they were the source of something much darker, and he had a sinking feeling he knew what that might be. He burned with a dreadful understanding.
His thoughts raced as he realised how little he truly knew about her past. He had learned the surface details. The brilliance, the fierce determination…but not this.
Not the scars beneath the surface, the trauma.
Before he could stop himself, he stepped forwards, hand reaching out to steady her, to pull her back from the brink. He didn't know what to say, or even if there were words that could help. All he knew was that she needed him now.
“Winslow,” he murmured, stepping beside her, hand on her arm. The rest of the room seemed oblivious, caught up in their own musings or the next point in her presentation, but he could feel the weight of the moment.
She didn't respond. She couldn’t. He could see her straining to keep it together, her mind battling against memories which clawed at her from the past. Her gaze flickered, distant and lost, breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps.
“Hey.” Silas stepped even closer, voice lower, softer. His hand smoothed up her arm. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”
He watched uneasily as she struggled to pull herself together, hands trembling, gripping the lectern as if it might anchor her. She closed her eyes briefly, and when they reopened, they were filled with something like terror, a storm swirling beneath the surface.
Something shifted in him. Something protective, instinctive. His hand found hers, gripping it firmly, grounding her. She didn’t pull away, didn’t flinch, but he could feel her tremble under his touch. He held her hand tighter, so she would feel the connection, the assurance she wasn't alone.
“Focus on me,” he whispered. “Breathe slowly. In and out.”
It wasn’t much, but it was all he had. He wasn’t a healer, wasn’t a therapist. But he knew Amelia. He knew her strength and determination. He just needed her to remember that she wasn’t facing this alone.
Slowly, she calmed, breaths evening out, but the internal battle lingered in her eyes. She was trying hard to hold it together, to regain the control she always demanded of herself.
Silas saw her for what she was now. Vulnerable, real.
Something had happened to her that no one else would understand, and her parents were responsible.
She was afraid of them. Devastatingly so.
“We’re getting out of here,” Silas said firmly, voice steady even as his insides churned with concern. “You don’t have to do this anymore.”
Amelia blinked, gaze settling on him like she was trying to find something in his eyes. It wasn’t the usual confidence there or the usual fire. But he saw a flicker of trust.
With a quiet, shaky breath, Amelia nodded. “Okay.”
As they turned to leave, her parents’ cold, calculated gaze followed them, and Silas knew this wasn’t the end of whatever had just begun.