The manor felt wrong.
It wasn't just quiet—it was listening.
Elma sat at the edge of her bed, shoulders hunched, fingers pressed into her thighs to stop the trembling. The sigils on her skin pulsed faintly beneath her clothes, soft golden light leaking through torn fabric like cracks in armor. Every pulse lined up with her heartbeat, but it didn't feel like her heartbeat anymore. It felt… foreign.
Calista knelt on the floor in front of her, a bowl of warm water balanced carefully in her lap. She wrung out a cloth, her movements precise, almost ritualistic.
"Stay still," Calista murmured.
Elma forced herself to relax, even though her body screamed. Her arm jerked when Calista dabbed at a gash along her ribs, but she didn't flinch.
"Hurts?" Calista asked softly, glancing up.
Elma gave her a crooked grin. "I've had worse."
Calista's lips tightened, but she didn't argue. She dipped the cloth again, steam curling around her hands, and wiped away more dried blood. The touch was careful, reverent, as if Elma were a weapon Calista didn't want to break.
The glow under Elma's skin caught Calista's eye. She hesitated, her fingers hovering over the faint gold lines spiraling along Elma's collarbone.
"Does it burn?"
"Not anymore," Elma said. "Just… hums. Like it's alive."
Calista's hand trembled before she steadied it and traced one of the sigils with a fingertip. The mark pulsed faintly in response, sending a shiver through Elma's spine.
Calista froze. "It reacts to me."
"Maybe it likes you," Elma teased, but her voice was hoarse.
Calista gave her a sharp look, though her eyes were softer than her tone. "Don't joke. This isn't—this isn't normal, Elma. Whatever happened in that hall, it's not done with you."
Elma leaned back against the headboard, her smirk fading. "I know."
The shard wasn't just bound to her; it had chosen her. She could feel it, whispering faintly in a language she didn't understand, pulsing in time with her thoughts like a second mind had curled up inside her ribcage.
Calista reached for another cloth, dipping it into the bowl. The steam rose between them, curling around her face, softening her sharp features. For a moment, she didn't look like the queen of Vale House. She looked tired. Human.
"You scared me," Calista whispered.
Elma blinked. "What?"
"In the hall," Calista said, her voice cracking. "When it… when it took you. I thought I lost you."
Elma's throat tightened. She reached out, fingers curling gently under Calista's chin, tilting her face up. "You didn't lose me."
Calista's breath caught, her hand frozen mid-motion, still holding the cloth.
"I'm right here," Elma said softly.
For a heartbeat, Calista let her guard slip. Her eyes glimmered, and she leaned into Elma's touch, just for a moment. The leash around Elma's neck burned faintly in warning, but she didn't care.
They stayed like that, silent but close, until the bowl of water cooled and the candles flickered low.
A knock at the door shattered the moment.
Calista straightened instantly, mask slipping back over her face like a veil. Elma grabbed a loose tunic from the bed, pulling it over her glowing sigils.
"Enter," Calista called.
The door opened, revealing a servant with wide, frightened eyes. "Lady Vale… the Master requests your presence. Both of you."
Calista's gaze sharpened. "At this hour?"
The servant swallowed hard. "He… insisted."
The door closed.
Elma and Calista exchanged a glance. No words needed.
"He knows," Elma said quietly.
"Or suspects," Calista murmured. She moved to the wardrobe, pulling out a deep crimson robe. Her hands moved quickly, too quickly, betraying her nerves. "We'll play it carefully."
Elma smirked, though her jaw was tight. "When have we ever?"
The manor's halls felt colder than usual as they walked. Candles flickered in their sconces, shadows stretching long against the walls. The leash hummed faintly at Elma's throat, as if sensing its maker's mood.
Guards lined the corridor outside Nitron's study. Their armor gleamed in the low light, and their eyes didn't follow the women—they didn't dare.
Kade opened the door for them. His silver eyes flicked briefly to Elma, then lingered on Calista. He gave nothing away, but Elma didn't miss the subtle tension in his posture.
Nitron stood at the center of the study, his back to them, staring out the tall windows. His reflection in the glass was a silhouette framed by moonlight.
"Sit," he said without turning.
Calista obeyed smoothly, gliding to the nearest chair with all the grace of a queen. Elma leaned against the table instead, arms crossed, watching him like a predator sizing up another.
Nitron turned slowly, his gaze cutting across the room like a blade. He studied Elma first, then Calista, his expression unreadable.
"There's been a disturbance," he said finally. "In the lower halls. The wards screamed tonight."
Calista feigned confusion perfectly. "Perhaps one of the artifacts was tampered with."
"Perhaps," Nitron echoed. His eyes slid back to Elma, and for a heartbeat, she felt him push. The leash flared hot against her throat, and the shard inside her pulsed back in defiance.
Nitron's eyes narrowed, just slightly.
"You've been busy," he said softly.
Elma didn't flinch. "Always."
For a moment, the tension in the room was suffocating. Nitron's aura pressed down on them like a storm, sharp and electric.
Then he smiled.
"Good," he said. "Stay busy. I expect results."
Calista inclined her head smoothly, voice calm. "You'll have them."
Nitron turned his back to them again, dismissing them without a word.
The hallway outside felt colder than the study.
Elma exhaled sharply. "He's onto us."
Calista's hand brushed hers as they walked. The contact was fleeting, hidden in the folds of her robe. "Then we move faster."
The shard pulsed once in Elma's chest, warm and steady.
For the first time, she wondered if it was agreeing with Calista.
[Quest Updated: Crest of the Forgotten]
Status: Active
Nitron Suspicion Level: Rising
The house watched as they walked away. Candles flickered out, one by one, behind them.