Shellia hadn't left her room since dawn. The curtains of the Silver Wing suite were still drawn tight, shutting out the morning light that spilled across the rest of the manor. The quiet was so unlike her that the spirits and beasts stationed outside her door had begun exchanging worried looks.
[Yuki: It's already mid-morning. She hasn't even opened the window.]
[Orielle: Her aura feels…heavy. Not like usual.]
[Sylas: Perhaps she is simply exhausted. But her heartbeat sounds unsettled.]
[Orryn: I'm telling you, she's bottling things up again. And nobody listens to the stag when he's right.]
Kaelin, arms crossed, leaned against the doorframe. "She didn't even touch the tea I left her last night. That's not like Shellia at all."
Veyra's translucent fingers tightened on the edge of her phantom blade. "Her silence feels worse than any wound. She always masks pain with jokes. If even the jokes are gone…"
