Whispers Beneath the Arrows

The birds outside chirped in soft bursts, cutting into the stillness like tiny flutes. Morning sunlight bled through the curtains in pale gold streaks, warming the stone walls and pooling over Aurelia's tangled sheets. She stirred beneath them slowly, lids heavy from unexpected rest. For once, sleep had come without nightmares clawing at her mind.

But it was only a moment of peace.

Her fingers brushed across her own skin, still damp from the nightmares that visited her even in silence. The estate's air smelled faintly of burning cedar, incense from the torches outside her door. Her hair had unraveled in the night, curling messily over her shoulders, framing her face with an accidental grace. She sat up and brushed it back, but it only clung tighter to her neck.

A gentle knock came, followed by the familiar voice of Julius.

"May I come in?"

She didn't answer. But a long pause followed, and then she heard the careful turn of the handle.

He entered slowly, stopping by the door with his gaze held low in deference. "I came only to inform you. Lord Tenebrarum has been summoned by the king. He will not return until nightfall."

Something lifted inside her—a breath, a fragile thread of relief. But she gave no sign, remembering all she was told about Tenebrarum.

It fears her but she still curious to know what lies beneath the mask, even if it was against the rule.

Julius then cleared his throat. "You have the day to yourself, should you wish for quiet."

Still she said nothing. But her eyes lifted to meet his, and for a second, he smiled faintly.

"I'll leave you to dress," he said, his voice low, warm. He didn't linger—only bowed his head and stepped out, pulling the door gently closed behind him.

---

She walked the halls alone, flanked only by marble pillars and high, arched windows. The tapestries overhead swayed as if something moved behind them. She refused to glance at them.

The estate whispered. The floor beneath her bare feet was cold. At every turn, the weight of what had been done to her family pressed deeper into her chest.

The village, the house, Marcus.

They'd all burned. And the ones who had done it smiled in this palace. She knew. She'd seen their kind. And now they dressed her in silk and called her guest.

She should not speak to Julius.

Not when he wore their crest.

But when she reached the bottom of the stairs, there he was—waiting in the courtyard, leaning against the stone arch with arms crossed and the faintest grin playing on his lips.

Her hair, though combed hastily, still spilled down her shoulders like ivy, wild and shining. The morning sun made her eyes seem lighter. She didn't see it—but he did.

"I thought perhaps you'd like to join me," he said.

She blinked.

He gestured behind him. "There's a training yard in the west wing. Bows, swords… nothing dangerous unless you choose to make it so."

For a moment, she almost said no.

But then she thought of Marcus. How he had taught her to steady her fingers, breathe in rhythm with the forest, and let the arrow fly.

She followed Julius wordlessly.

---

The training ground was old, open to the skies, and ringed by black columns. Iron weapons were stacked neatly to the side. Julius pulled a bow from the wall, laughing under his breath.

"I've never been graceful with these," he said. "But I like the sound the string makes."

He positioned himself, squinted at the target, and released.

The arrow veered right, missing by more than a handspan.

Aurelia stood still. Then, without a word, she crossed the grounds, lifted another bow—heavier, better carved—and took her stance.

She inhaled.

She remembered the grip of Marcus's hands guiding her shoulders. His voice over her ear. His breath against her cheek. The world narrowing to a single line.

The arrow flew.

It struck the center with a clean, satisfying thud.

Julius's mouth parted slightly. "Where did you learn that?"

She didn't answer. Her fingers trembled as she reached for another arrow.

He stepped forward but did not press.

Only after a long silence did she whisper, "Marcus."

And that name alone almost undid her.

She saw his smile again. The way he had picked flowers for her in the spring, hidden his rough hands behind his back like a boy. And then his body, burnt and broken, lying atop the others.

Julius's voice came softer this time. "He… he meant much to you."

Her throat tightened.

"I was to marry him,we were to be together...forever " she said.

And that was all.

Julius didn't respond. He looked away, giving her the space of silence , he felt so bad that he wasn't even there to protect the girl he loved.

It was the first time since she'd arrived that no one demanded she speak more than she wished.

She lowered the bow.

For the first time here, she didn't feel like she was being watched. For the first time, the courtyard felt like air—not a cage.

They trained a while longer. She showed him the right way to notch and breathe. His second attempt hit closer.

When the sun neared its peak, Julius turned to her. "I'll give you time to wash. Then, if you like, the gardens are quieter in the afternoon."

He stepped back, nodded, and disappeared through the corridor, leaving only the sound of his boots echoing behind him.

---

Aurelia walked back with slower steps. Every corner of this estate held secrets, but not all of them were cruel. Not all.

Yet even as she passed the columns, she could not stop the image of Marcus from rising again. Of flames. Of bodies. Of her people screaming.

The dark humans were monsters. Julius wore their symbol, carried their weapons.

She should not let herself feel anything at all.

But as she brushed her hair in the mirror, sunlight caught her cheek, and for the first time since her capture—her soul did not feel entirely broken.

She looked at the mark on her wrist. The one they had burned into her. It would never fade.

But maybe… one day… she would make it mean something else.

---

To be continued...