The scream split the silence like glass shattering.
Adam froze mid-step. So did Faer. But only for a second.
"Salira!"
Adam's voice was a roar, already sprinting toward the west wing. The scream had come from there.
Faer followed with surprising speed for a man his age, coat flaring behind him like wings of smoke. The halls groaned beneath them, dust rising with every thunderous step. The sconces on the walls flickered violently—as if the fire itself was afraid.
She had been in the room. She had said she was tired. She said she'd rest.
Then that scream—raw and too familiar.
"Salira, answer me!" Adam's voice cracked against the frozen stone.
They skidded to a stop outside the bedroom door.
It was open.
Just a crack.
Adam's hand hovered at the handle for half a second, as if the metal itself radiated danger. Then—he pushed.
The door creaked open.
The fireplace was lit.
The room was… empty.
No sign of Salira.
No blankets disturbed.
No footprints.
No struggle.
Nothing.
It was as if she had never been there.
"…What… is this…" Adam muttered.
Faer slowly walked in, eyes scanning every corner like a hawk. He muttered something in a language Adam didn't recognize.
"There's no sign of forced entry," Faer said, voice low. "No blood. No shadows. No magic fluctuation."
Adam turned in circles, as if she might materialize if he just looked hard enough. "She was right here. Sleeping."
The wind outside had died completely. The house was silent.
Too silent.
Adam opened his mouth to call again—but the world shifted.
The flames froze in place.
The air itself crystallized.
Dust particles halted mid-fall.
Faer—stood still, his eyes mid-blink, like a paused video.
Time had stopped.
"…What the—" Adam's voice echoed into an unnatural void.
He looked around. Everything was frozen except him.
He turned—and his gaze landed outside the cracked window.
A shadow moved. Slowly. Silently.
And then—
WAKE.
Adam jolted awake.
Chest rising and falling like a man pulled from drowning.
The room was warm.
Dim.
Still.
The fire crackled again. Time had resumed. The wind whispered outside the window like a lullaby.
His head turned.
Salira was there.
Fast asleep. Blankets pulled up to her nose. One hand curled gently over her chest, like she was holding a secret in her dreams.
Adam stared at her for a long moment, then down at his own trembling hands.
That felt too real.
The scream. The emptiness. The silence.
Faer frozen. The shifting shadow.
The faceless statue.
…Wait.
He got up slowly, quietly padding to the window.
The snow had begun falling again.
But just beyond the gates, barely visible beneath the moonlight—
There it stood.
That statue.
Dark stone. Tall. Featureless. A twisted, etched smile on where a mouth should be.
No eyes.
But somehow, it still felt like it was staring directly at him.
Adam's jaw clenched. He didn't look away. Not immediately.
Then slowly, he turned his back to it and returned to the fireside. He wrapped a blanket around himself and glanced once more at Salira.
Still sleeping.
But just before he closed his eyes, he whispered, barely audible to the wind:
"…If you're watching us…just know this. I don't care who—or what—you are. If you lay a hand on her again… I'll burn you from every page."
The fire crackled in reply.
And outside, the statue's smile seemed… wider.