The light in the room that arrived from the window gave the place a brighter feel.
Since arriving in this region, everything had been uneventful. Typical humans going about their lives. Contained. Predictable. Until earlier.
On my walk, there she was—a subject of interest. Something about her presence made me pay attention, made me curious. She spoke constantly, yet some words… some words were worth noting.
I disengaged the emotions that could provoke unwanted actions, letting only observation guide me.
"So, what do you want? To study me?" she asked, voice laced with challenge and amusement. Her black-and-white hair framed her face with an arrogance that was… interesting.
"Study—yes, study you," I said, pausing with my cup halfway to my lips. "May I?" I added, needing her participation for my experiment.
"Suuuuuure," she replied, a twitch betraying the smile she tried to hide.
So, no, I concluded internally, taking a careful sip of tea.
"You don't have to lie, you know," I added, handing the cup to the figure of Happiness for a refill.
"It was worth the attempt," she admitted, adjusting her position in the chair.
"I never even got a name… or an introduction," she pointed out, scanning for any subtle reaction from me.
I paused, looking to Happiness, who returned my tea and offered a subtle thumbs-up.
"You go first," I said, taking another careful sip.
"Nice to meet you, Victoria. I am Eudora," I introduced myself.
Her eyes widened. She chuckled. "You are who the memo was about," pride and surprise mingling across her face.
"Oh, do you know me?" I asked, intrigued.
"Oh, just what your report said," she said, then fell silent.
Oh, I thought, sitting upright again. This is what disappointment looks like. My hand trembled slightly; tea sloshed over the rim of the cup.
Suddenly, she spoke again.
"I would like to ease myself," she whispered.
A moment stretched. Then terror struck—her face contorted, scream tearing from her throat as she toppled into unconsciousness.
Shadows rushed along the walls, eyes fixed on the floor, the air thickening. The door opened quietly. Paul stepped in, carrying a bag that looked like breakfast.
"Why did you do that?" I demanded.
He smiled lightly, setting the bag down.
The shadow of Fear lingered between her and Paul, silent, tracking every movement.
"Ah, she peed herself," he said casually. "You should have let her ease herself when she asked."
I suppressed the rising frustration. "I don't know what you're thinking, but kidnapping a Concord employee is unwise," I said, noting the knife he pulled from the shadow to slice a mango.
"What did you do to her?" I asked, voice tinged with worry. Worried and Nervous moved silently to clean, doing their best to restore order.
"The fear of height, falling, and dying," he answered, smiling.
"What do you even want with her?" He asked, taking a slice of apple he handed me.
"She had few emotional activities, and that interested me," I said calmly.
"Then kidnap a soldier," he countered, biting into a pastry.
"No," I replied. "It seems she was actively altering her emotions. A soldier doesn't do that."
We ate in silence for a moment, Victoria still unconscious.
"I hope she won't be traumatized," I said, taking a bite of pork.
"No, she should be fine on that end," he replied.
"You were… watching?" I asked, tension tightening in my chest.
"The fear of being watched was my mirror," he said simply.
"I see," I murmured, steadying my hands that trembled slightly. "When do you plan on leaving?"
"Right now, actually. Came to convince you to come along… or say see you later," he replied, sliding the blade back into the shadow.
I looked at her. "Can we bring her along?"
"No. The whole region is likely being surveilled." He flipped a pocket watch open; tiny eyes within the glass and the shadow tracked mine, precise and unblinking. I looked away, cataloging their motion.
"I will leave you a little something," he said, opening the door. Even after it closed behind him, a shadow lingered.
"Let's put her on the bed," I commanded. Masked figures emerged from my shadow, gently lifting her unconscious form and placing her on the mattress.
"Do we have anything to cover her lower region?" I asked, continuing to eat.
The quiet pressed in. Shadows stretched across the walls, gas lamp flickering faintly over her still form.
Even in sleep, she was a subject of interest. Every tremor, every shallow breath, cataloged. I would observe her—always.
"O crimson shadow that splits the sky,
Teach me the weight of hope that trembles in despair.
I offer my fear, my heartbeat, my silent cries—
Let the light I wield eat and bleed in measure.
So I may strike with the fire that erodes,
And feel its cost within my marrow."