Page 8 of Chains of Nightshade

My chains clink as I settle into a more comfortable position. Tomorrow night, I'll delve deeper into her dreams, explore the shadows of her mind. There must be clues about the nature of her power, some hint of how to awaken it.

"Soon." The word echoes in my chamber. "Soon you'll serve your purpose, Vera."

Her name tastes like possibility on my tongue. Like freedom. I just need to be patient, to play the role of mentor and savior until I understand how to harness her magic for my own ends.

My fangs gleam in the darkness as I smile. After centuries of imprisonment, what's a few more nights of careful manipulation?

5

VERA

My eyes snap open, and I bolt upright. The scratchy blanket falls to my waist as my heart pounds against my ribs. The dream clings to my thoughts, refusing to fade like normal dreams do. His voice still echoes in my mind, deep and compelling.

"You are worth more than they say."

My hands tremble as I push back my tangled hair. The dim light filtering through the cracks in my door tells me it's not yet dawn. The mansion sleeps, silent except for the occasional creak of ancient wood.

"It can't be real," I whisper to myself, but even as the words leave my lips, I remember everything. The way he appeared from the shadows, his presence both terrifying and oddly comforting.

I close my eyes, trying to piece together the fragments of my dream. His form shifts like smoke in my memory, refusing to stay still. But those eyes... those piercing green eyes remain crystal clear, glowing with an ancient power that made my breath catch.

"What was he?" I whisper to myself, drawing my knees to my chest.

In the dream, shadows had played across his features, but I remember catching glimpses of something incredible. A flash of scales, iridescent in what little light there was. The curve of a massive tail, coiling through the darkness. Not human, definitely not human.

My fingers twist in the thin blanket. "His tail... it moved like water." The memory sends a shiver down my spine. I'd seen only portions of it, disappearing into the shadows, but what I'd glimpsed had been beautiful in a terrifying way.

But those eyes hold my thoughts captive. They'd seemed to see right through me, filled with knowledge and something else I couldn't name. Green as summer leaves, but with an otherworldly glow that marked him as something more than mortal.

"Aurel," I test his name on my tongue, barely above a whisper. Even now, hours later, I can feel the weight of his gaze, the way he'd looked at me like I was worth something.

The rest of him remains frustratingly unclear - a collection of half-glimpses and impressions that slip away when I try to focus on them. But those fragments I can recall make my heart race with equal parts fear and fascination. That, and the stories he told me about the dark elves' cruelty. about being their prisoner. About me having powers I never knew existed.

I look down at my pale, thin hands. They're the same hands that have scrubbed floors and carried trays for as long as I can remember. Nothing special. Nothing powerful.

"Just a dream." My voice sounds hollow in the darkness of my tiny room. "It didn't mean anything."

But if it was just a dream, why does my chest ache with a strange new feeling? Why do his words keep repeating in my head, making me question everything I've ever believed about myself?

The floorboards outside my room creak, and I quickly lie back down, pulling the blanket up to my chin. It was just a dream. It had to be. Because if it wasn't...

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to force away the dangerous whisper of hope that threatens to take root in my heart.

My joints creak as I push myself up from the thin straw mattress. Every movement sends daggers of pain through my muscles, but I force myself to stand. The stone floor bites at my bare feet, a familiar discomfort.

"You are more than what they say." His voice echoes in my head, clear as crystal despite the hours that have passed since the dream.

I shuffle to the water basin, splashing my face. The cold water does little to chase away his words or the memory of those piercing green eyes. My reflection in the murky water shows the same pale, gaunt face I've always known.

The great hall stretches before me, littered with the remains of Lady Morana's festivities. Half-eaten food, spilled wine, and mud tracked across the stone floors. I dip my brush in the bucket and begin scrubbing.

"More than what they say?" I mutter to myself, attacking a particularly stubborn wine stain. "What could that even mean?"

A piece of fruit pulp sticks to my fingers as I work. The sweet smell has turned sour overnight, much like my thoughts.

"I can barely lift this bucket." My arms shake with the effort of scrubbing. "I get winded climbing stairs."

Two dark elf servants pass by, their boots deliberately stepping in my clean patch of floor. They snicker, but I keep my head down. Their laughter fades down the corridor.

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