24. Seren
SEREN
When the world opens again, it does so quietly.
My thoughts circle the same paths until they carve grooves in my skull, the silence of the aftermath more uncomfortable than the noise. The pounding in my ears was deafening, yet this solitary space feels jarring.
I’ve remained in this fetal position since Kael. Pain cascades in waves through my body—my sternum where the golden rod scorched, my wrists where the manacles burned away, and the pressure still piercing my skull.
The door opens without warning, causing my heart to flutter.
No chains this time—just a man in crisp white robes that whisper as he walks.
He wears no mask, but his air of superiority and the stark colour of his dress tell me he is high-born.
Someone who should not concern himself with a low-life like me.
His eyes crinkle, his lips twitching into a barely-there smile. I let out a slow, hissing breath like a bellow finally losing its air; I hadn’t realised how loud until my own silence filled it. He responds with a short, airy laugh.
“Seren of the Hollow,” he says, voice smooth as warm honey. “You’ve caused quite a stir.”
I stare at him. His golden, porcelain skin glows in the lamplight, and flecks of emerald shine deep in his blue eyes. I’ve never seen such beauty. The years have not etched a single mark upon his face—such a sheltered life he must lead.
“Don’t worry,” he adds softly. “Stirs are useful. They bring what’s buried to the surface.”
My shadows curl around my legs, sensing something from this stranger. “Who are you?”
“I am Uri Valeor,” he says easily, bowing his head just enough to suggest humility. My brows furrow at the name, the weight of it not yet sinking in. “I’m also known as the High Luminary of Mercy.”
My eyes widen, my mouth falling open in sheer disbelief. I scramble back toward the headboard, dragging the covers around me as if the fabric could stop the truth from settling in. It doesn’t.
The High Luminaries are creatures of myth—rarely seen, let alone spoken to. I had hoped my brief glimpse of them upon arrival was all the exposure I would ever endure. I never expected a personal visitation.
A knot of unease tightens in my stomach, gripping my insides with enough force that bile rises to my throat.
“M—mercy?” I echo. The word tastes foreign on my tongue.
“A title fitting for where we are—and who I am.” He motions to the room and smiles. He glides across the marble, stepping onto the cushioned rug as he nears the bed. A bejewelled hand brushes the silken sheets before he perches on the edge, the mattress dipping under his weight.
“I believe we have met before.”
“In the hall, yes.”
I look down at my hands, watching a finger pick at a cuticle. The skin around the nail is red and raw, mirroring the marks beneath my new manacles. Then it dawns on me which one he is.
“Were you the one who winked at me?”
A soft chuckle vibrates from his lips, the sound almost reaching my own. “Yes. Apologies if that unnerved you. Unlike my…associates, I do not share the same aversion to Shadowbornes.”
I don’t respond.
“You’ve been through so much in such a short time, my dear.” He leans in, a practiced warmth radiating from his calm demeanour. “I understand how you must be feeling.”
“No,” I whisper. “You don’t.”
“My dear girl, this place may seem strange, but I promise you, it’s not. Come, tell me—what is home like for you?” His eyes bore into the depths of my soul, inviting me in.
“It’s dark. Always dark.” I pick at the skin around my nails. “There’s no sunlight. No fresh air. No hope.” I look up, meeting that emerald-flecked gaze. “Do you know what it feels like to wake up everyday not knowing if it will be your last?”
He hangs his head, shaking it gently until his dark brown hair sways.
The silence drags. For a moment, I think he won’t respond, but then he does.
“Alas, I do not. But I can agree that this is not a life of living, but of surviving. The war has created a divide in our world—one that will not be easily mended, I’m afraid. ”
I don’t argue; there’s no point. Centuries of conflict won’t be settled in this small moment. My chest caves, shoulders rolling inward under the weight of my exhalation.
He takes my hand, gesturing for my eyes to meet his. As he does, a hiss forms deep in my skull. I shake it away.
“Tell me, Seren. Do you dream?”
The question snaps through me like a wire. “Why?”
“Dreams are fascinating things, are they not? Projecting our hidden thoughts until we’re lost in our own landscape.” His thumb traces idle circles over my bare skin, sending shivers trailing along my spine. “A silent conversation with the soul. It’s quite poetic, don’t you think?”
His tone is so calm that it almost makes me forget I should hate him. Almost.
“I—I guess I never thought of it that way.”
“What are the conversations your soul is having?”
I pull my hand away from his, coldness seeping into the space where his warmth had been. My gaze shifts to the lamp; its glow feels brighter than I remember, as if charged by his presence.
“There’s…there’s just a lot of darkness. Always darkness.”
“Interesting. And does anything happen in this darkness?”
I stare at the lamp. I don’t want to have this conversation, least of all with a man like him. But there is something so captivating about his stillness that I find myself wanting to share my visions anyway.
“Do you see a woman?” he asks, his tone too casual. “Or only the dark?”
Noticing my apprehension, he reaches for my hand again, sandwiching it between his palms in an intimate embrace I’m not ready for. “It’s okay,” he mutters. “You may speak freely. No word leaves this chamber without my blessing. You have my word.”
His word. What is the word of a man I’ve been conditioned to hate?
I clear my throat and pull my hand away, gesturing to the murals on the walls—a tapestry of my soul laid bare. “I draw. It’s the only way I know how to interpret them.”
He raises a perfectly manicured brow. “Ah, yes. And what a talent you have.” Cracks of interest form around his eyes as he stands, making his way to the image of the woman with coal for eyes. “Fascinating. I’d love to see more of these drawings someday—if you’d let me, of course.”
“Flattery doesn’t make me less chained.” I mumble. “And I can’t show you more. I haven’t been provided any parchment, I’ve only been able to use what is around me.”
He turns. His eyes darken at the challenge, and the lamplight dims in sympathy.
“It was a pleasure chatting with you, Seren. I look forward to speaking with you again soon.”
He bows and turns for the door.
“Thank you,” I say, the words stumbling out before I can stop them.
His face softens, his lips parting to show a hint of teeth. The expression looks entirely natural, unforced. He shuts the door behind him, leaving only the scent of incense and deceit to trail in his absence.
* * *
Moments later, the door opens again—sharper this time. No soft knock. No courtesy. Why would there be? I cannot let the comfort disguise what I truly am; a monster in a cage.
“You let him in,” Kael says, his eyes darting around as if searching for the source of the scent.
“As if I had a choice.”
Caught off guard by his lack of introduction, I clear my throat, searching for the remains of my voice. “But yes, the High Luminary of Mercy paid me a visit. Don’t tell me you’re jealous he granted me the honour of his presence?”
Kael’s brow hardens, his hands shoving into his pockets. “You must have intrigued him. He rarely visits anyone.” He steps further into the room, the scent of parchment and ink a surprisingly welcome relief against the incense. I shake the thought away.
“Did he hurt you?” he asks. His gaze remains fixed on the fissures in the marble floor.
I blink, shocked. “What?”
“Did he touch you?” He still won’t look at me, but the muscles in his jaw twitch.
“He only held my hand. Why?”
Kael’s chest rises and falls, a sharp breath releasing through his nose. “If he’s interested, it’s not because he cares.” His mouth thins, jaw clenching down on words he probably shouldn’t have said.
My fingers flex, half-expecting a mark on my skin. But there’s nothing. Only the warm residue of his touch lingers.
Kael leans closer, as if to sit on the bed, then hesitates. He straightens his spine until he stands tall. “He isn’t mercy, Seren. He’s curiosity wearing perfume, and it looks like he’s found a new interest.”
I pull the covers up higher, trying to hide my exposed skin, but it doesn’t help. I can still feel his emerald-flecked eyes examining me. But there was warmth in them, wasn’t there? Kindness? He didn’t feel dangerous—not like Riven.
“He was perfectly fine,” I say. “In fact, he’s the kindest person I’ve met since stepping into this godsforsaken place.”
Silence follows, the words hanging like an accusation. Kael doesn’t answer. Instead, he drags the chair from the corner, the scrape of wood loud in the sterile room.
“What do you remember from the test?” he asks.
My fingers pick at my cuticles. “Pain.”
“Before the pain took hold.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to jumble the thoughts into a pattern. “I heard voices. And then—then a scream. Everything went blindingly white.”
“Hmm.”
“What happened? I whisper, not daring to look at him.
“You said things,” he says quietly. “You spoke in a language that hasn’t been heard in Auria since the Cleansing. And—” He hesitates, removing his spectacles to wipe them with the edge of his cloak. “—and you called a name.”
He leans forward, elbows on his knees, his gaze fixed on me. Heat rises to my cheeks; I shift uncomfortably under the covers, exposed by a truth I don’t remember speaking.
My throat constricts, dreading the answer. “A name?”
An icy calm settles over his features, erasing every hint of emotion. “You called for her. Nyx.”
The way he speaks the name makes the shadows stir—a contained energy humming against my legs.
“That’s impossible,” I whisper. I close my eyes, trying to drag fragments from the haze—heat, light, the taste of copper—but the memories won’t form.
He leans further forward, voice low and cold. “And then you called for me.”
My eyes slam shut, trying to squeeze out the thought. What? Why would I shout for him? “That can’t be right,” I say, the word thick with disbelief.
“Try and remember what you saw.”
“I can’t!” I shout, the words raw against my throat.
“Try,” he demands, leaning closer.
The command makes me flinch. His thumb presses the same spot Uri’s did, and hatred flashes hot in my chest—my body betraying me by remembering warmth when it should only feel pain.
His grip isn’t cruel; it’s desperate. The shadows uncurl, sliding toward his hand to pull him off, but they hiss and recoil, hitting that invisible barrier.
I clench my teeth and glare at him, noticing the flecks of blue and green that shine in his eyes like shards of broken glass. “I told you, I don’t remember. Now—get your hands off me.”
He doesn’t let go. If anything, his grip tightens, his palm rubbing against the burn on my wrist. I bite down a whimper.
“Seren,” he growls. “You have no idea what this means, or what they are going to do to you.”
I pull, and I pull, but his grip is an anchor.
“And what do they want to do to me?” I force the words through gritted teeth.
“Things you cannot imagine.”
“Like what?”
“Something is living inside you,” he says, his voice dropping. “Something we have to get out.”
“Don’t you think I know that? I’ve lived like this my whole life!” I yank my arm back, finally breaking his hold. My breathing turns ragged. He doesn’t move; he stays perched over the bed, his face so close to mine that I can see his eyes glide toward my mouth.
Silence stretches taut between us, neither one of us wanting to be the first to break. I’ve never seen him like this—driven by a silent, jagged fury.
“Fine. I’ve tried helping you, but—”
“You call this helping?” My lip curls, my teeth bared. “You don’t know the meaning of the word. You’ve done nothing but treat me like an animal, giving me a stylus with nothing to draw on, yet complain when I use the walls as my canvas!”
He flinches. He pulls away, reverting instantly to a soldier carved from marble. He smooths the invisible creases from his tunic, and adjusts his spectacles, as if my words physically struck him across the face.
His gaze finds mine one last time before he turns for the door. He pauses as his palm meets the metal, his back to me.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”