Azura's POV
The garden was quiet. Too quiet.
A heavy, suffocating silence hung in the air, broken only by the distant chirp of a bird that sounded too cheerful for the mood I was in. I sat on the cold stone bench tucked securely behind the old, gnarled oak tree. It was my secret spot, hidden from the main path, where I could be alone with my thoughts, or rather, alone with the terrifying mess my life had become.
I stared at nothing in particular, just letting my eyes glaze over the dirt and grass. The late afternoon sun painted the world in a soft, gentle gold, turning the leaves into shimmering coins, but I barely noticed. My mind was somewhere else. Somewhere much, much darker.
It had been four days since I heard that voice in Genevieve's secret room, since that cold, slithering whisper had wrapped around my bones and squeezed the breath right out of my lungs.
'Finally…'
I shivered despite the warmth.
