The faint hiss of wind and the muffled echoes of last night's storm still lingered in Sylvia's ears as her eyelids slowly parted. Her vision blurred, unfocused, as though her mind had not fully returned from the darkness of sleep. She lay there for a few seconds, staring at the canopy ceiling of her black-draped chamber, listening to a silence broken only by the soft sway of a small chain clinking in the corner.
"…morning already?" she murmured, though the dim light seeping through the snow-fogged window made time itself feel frozen.
With lazy movements, Sylvia rose. The cold sheets slipped aside, her gown rustling softly as she sat at the edge of the bed. Her long black hair was tangled, strands clinging to her pale cheek. She rubbed her face once, then stood and shuffled toward the bathroom adjoining her private room.
.....
