It wasn't merely light. It was a gash torn across the sky, gray and silver, with shredded clouds as though someone had tried to mend the horizon with brute force. Through the windows of the Supremium House, the brightness slipped in hesitantly, almost afraid, casting a pale glow that set the shadows swaying. The air hung thick, steeped in a mystery I couldn't name but felt deep in my bones. The house breathed. It pulsed. And there I stood, in its heart, just another echo.
I rose from the bed slowly, sleep still clinging to me, tangled with fleeting memories of last night's dinner—laughter, pauses, glances that spoke louder than words. The morning was too still. Unnerving. As if the world had paused to peer at me. I padded to the bathroom, my feet chilled against the floor. Steam rose before I even touched the faucet. Hot water cascaded over my skin, warm like an embrace I hadn't realized I craved. The scent of herbs and flowers filled the space—subtle yet vivid, as if the house had murmured, "I picked this for you."
I stepped out of the shower lighter, though not at ease. My mind was a tangle, thoughts drifting, fragments of emotions I couldn't pin down. And Nael… he was woven into them all. Always there, a silhouette in my head, someone I knew yet never fully grasped.
In the closet, the clothes gazed back at me. So many choices, but my eyes caught only the black dress. Long and lustrous, adorned with silver accents that seized the light and held it fast. It felt soft to the touch, almost tender, yet it weighed on my chest—like it carried the entire day within its folds. I slipped it on and stepped out.
A shiver raced up my spine the moment I entered the hallway. Silence reigned, but not the hollow kind. It was a silence that watched. My footsteps reverberated, deliberate and slow, against the towering walls. At every turn, something halted me: a warped sculpture, a painting that seemed to dream with open eyes, or the stained glass casting colors across the floor like spilled paint from the world itself.
I descended the stairs. The main hall swallowed me whole, its odd blend of past and present—sleek, modern furniture pressed against walls that whispered centuries—stealing my breath as always. Every nook cradled a tale, a secret, and I longed to unravel them all.
But that wasn't why I was there. It was for him. Nael. Except he wasn't one to be easily tracked down. He vanished each morning like a child playing hide-and-seek, leaving me to chase a phantom. Did he find it amusing? Did he even notice?
I crossed through a smaller room, and there she was. Ella. A flicker of light and shadow, hovering as if the air itself held her aloft. My skin prickled.
—"Looking for someone?"—Her voice didn't reach my ears; it slipped straight into my mind, a whisper that scratched.
—"Nael."—My reply was curt, steady, but hushed.
She tilted her head, her eyes—pure energy—sizing me up from head to toe.
—"East wing. Training. But… isn't he always training?"—A sly twist laced her tone, almost taunting.
—"Thanks."—I turned away. I had no patience for her games. Or maybe I did, but I refused to indulge her.
The corridor to the east wing was a labyrinth of stained glass, its colored beams striking the walls and tightening my chest. Finding Nael was never a simple hello. It was a skirmish—words that sliced, silences that pressed down. Yet I went all the same.
The living room lay lifeless. Stunning, but empty. Light streamed through vast windows, brushing the furniture, but he wasn't there. Nor could he be. Nael in plain sight? Absurd.
I moved to the gym. My steps rang out, loud and lonely, announcing my solitude. I pushed the door open. Nothing. Gleaming equipment stood pristine, awaiting a master who wouldn't appear. My patience splintered a little more.
One last shot: the training room. The path felt stretched today—blame the unease, or the quiet fury he sparked in me without even trying. I reached it, shoved the door with a flicker of anger, braced for sound, motion, him. But only silence greeted me, dense and stifling. No Nael. No one.
I crossed my arms, drew a deep breath. Where is he? The void mocked me. The house itself seemed to jeer, and I was just a lost speck in a place that offered no answers.
—"Looking for someone?"—Ella again, materializing in the corner, her form glinting faintly in the gloom.
—"He's not here, is he?"—My voice snapped, edged with irritation.
She shook her head slowly, her eyes sparking.
—"No. He's… somewhere else."—A pause, her words measured like a blade's edge.—"But maybe you're not ready for him yet."
That stung.
—"And who decides that? You?"—I hurled the words like stones.
She laughed, a low, lilting sound.
—"Maybe him. Or maybe… you."
I sighed. My patience was a taut thread, fraying at the edges.
—"He does this on purpose, doesn't he?"
—"Of course. He always does."—Ella faded, leaving a trace of sharpness in the air.—"Maybe he wants you to give up."
I stood alone. My eyes drifted shut. It wasn't just frustration. It was a hollow ache, a yearning I couldn't define. Nael was a knot I couldn't unravel, always a stride ahead, just beyond my reach. And me? I kept chasing.
I didn't know what drove me onward, but a voice within roared: don't stop. If he wanted me to quit, it only fanned the flames higher. Every barrier they tossed in my path bound me tighter to this pursuit.
The training room was its own realm. Walls of strange, shimmering metal glowed with a soft light, almost alive, mirroring shadows that danced. The floor seemed to sense my steps, cushioning each impact as if it knew me.
I stepped inside, and the air hummed, charged with anticipation. Ella, the house's spirit, caught my intent and summoned them: two flawless copies of myself, standing poised, awaiting me. They weren't just projections. They were me—honed, deadly.
I drew a steadying breath, squaring my shoulders.
—"Let's see if you can take me down today."—My voice held firm, though inside I wondered: Can I do this?
I struck fast, a kick aimed at the center. The first blocked it as if she'd glimpsed my soul, while the second glided behind me, silent as a wraith. I whirled just in time, pulse pounding, and drove a fist into the first. It landed. The jolt sang through my knuckles, but the thrill vanished in a heartbeat.
She retreated, then countered, her strike a sharper echo of mine, ruthless and clean. It was a feral dance—I lunged, they evaded; I parried, they struck back. My every move rippled through them, only swifter, more precise.
—"You're good… but I'm better."—The words ground out through clenched teeth, more for my own resolve than their ears.
The clash ignited. I feinted with a judo maneuver, aiming to throw one off balance. It worked for a fleeting second, but the other pounced on the gap. A fist slammed into my ribs, pain flaring sharp and bright. I choked down a cry, spinning with the blow to carve out space.
My hands shook, muscles howling. Time to shift. I zeroed in on tight, exact strikes, probing their limits. Three punches and a kick connected—one staggered. Yes! But triumph was brief.
They synced, mirroring me with chilling unity, turning my own attacks against me. Each move I made returned fiercer, icier. It wasn't just mimicry; it was mastery. In a slip of focus, one seized me, wrenching my arm back. The other readied a blow. I tore free with a desperate surge, but the cost came swift—a knee to my gut stole my breath. I crumpled.
The cold floor clung to my skin. Sweat dripped, blood laced my tongue. Gasping, I lifted my gaze to them, pristine and unmoved. Yet a fire smoldered within me.
—"Today you won. Tomorrow, I'll take you down."—My voice rasped, resolute.
I gestured to Ella.
—"Enough."—The doubles dissolved into light, fading into nothing. Silence settled, heavy and thick, though the echo of their strikes lingered in my skull.
I hauled myself to the shower. Each step drew a groan from my body, but a faint smile curved my lips. The hot water wrapped around me, a balm that eased the hurt. I shut my eyes, exhaustion seeping away, replaced by a quiet conviction: Tomorrow, I win.
The morning hung heavy, a sigh lodged in the throat of the sky. Gray clouds, streaked with faded blue, draped the world in a melancholy I embraced like an old companion. It was the kind of day that beckoned me: hushed, almost holy, leaving no room for brash voices or wasted motions. I opened my eyes, and the cold air slipped through the window, carrying the scent of wet earth and shattered leaves—a call I couldn't refuse. I rose, pulled on simple clothes, and stepped outside, the door clicking softly in my wake.
The path to the waterfall was brief, yet each step drew me deeper into the world's embrace. The ground, damp and chilled, gave slightly beneath my feet, dry leaves snapping like fragile bones. Around me, sounds stirred to life: the wind murmuring through the trees, a creature rustling in the distant brush, and, nearer, the steady growl of cascading water. It was a song no one wrote, yet it pulsed against my skin.
I chose to run. Not for exercise—home's machines, with their flashing lights and stark numbers, handled that better. Running here was something else. It was my blood surging, my lungs clawing at the air, each stride a raw shout that I still existed. I ran as if the earth knew me, senses flung wide, catching the crack of a twig, the musk of moss, the faint reverberation of something unseen.
I reached the waterfall and halted, its roar swallowing me whole. Water struck the rocks with a living force, droplets leaping skyward like slivers of glass catching the dim light. I reached out, letting the cold nip my fingers, then graze my face. I found a gentler nook, where the current didn't bellow, and sat, my body still radiating the run's heat.
The silence there wasn't true silence. It carried depth, layers—the wind's low moan, the trees' timbers creaking as if they breathed, gravity tugging everything downward. I shut my eyes. This place knows me, I thought, the firm ground anchoring me.
Then I did something uncommon. I heightened the pressure around me—just enough to make my bones ache, my muscles resist. Icy water splashed close, flecking my skin, as if it mended me while the weight sought to unravel me. Pain and solace twined together, a tangle I had no wish to undo.
Time melted, losing its edges. The world might have stilled, and I wouldn't have noticed. There was only my body's strain and the water's timeless drone, aloof as an ancient deity. When my eyes opened, the sky had softened, the clouds thinning. Time to return.
I stood slowly, muscles grumbling, and walked home with deliberate steps. I took in everything: the gnarled shadows of trees, the wet sheen of stones. It wasn't fear or expectation—I simply needed to see. As I neared, the house welcomed me with its aroma of aged wood and unspoken tales. Every corner seemed to gaze back.
Her footsteps reached me before her form did. Elowen, roaming the halls, seeking. My own steps were soundless as I trailed her, nearly a ghost. When our paths met, her eyes flared, brimming with something I couldn't name.
—"So, this is where you were?"—Her voice sliced the air, half relief, half query.
—"Running."—That was all I gave.
She lingered, expecting more. I had none to offer. After a beat, she laughed softly, almost inwardly.
—"I thought you were in the gym. But of course, you and your nature thing."—Her tone was airy, but her eyes hinted at something deeper, something I saw and let slip by.
I watched her a moment, etching her words, her hand gestures, into memory. I said nothing, just began walking. I felt her pause, then follow, a quiet shadow at my heels. The house seemed to hum with her nearness, though I pushed away what that stirred in me.
Breakfast awaited, the table a canvas of colors and scents only Ella could summon. Fruits gleamed like gems, warm bread boasted a golden crust, coffee steeped the air in dark richness. I sat, my body still heavy from the morning, my mind abuzz.
Slow steps descended the stairs. I looked up to see Nael, a tall silhouette against the window's glow. He moved unhurried, each gesture serene, almost flawless, as if the world's burdens slid off him. He settled across from me, blindfolded eyes fixed on nothing, and lifted a fruit with steady hands.
The silence gnawed at me.