Chapter 5

Liora stirred beneath the heavy embrace of her blankets, a faint frown shadowing her features. The house around her was unusually silent, the only sound the rhythmic ticking of the old clock perched upon the mantle. Warm air lingered, carrying the comforting aromas of freshly brewed coffee and the earthy scent from the garden outside, yet it failed to soothe her restless mind.

Something was wrong.

Slowly, carefully, she sat up, her fingers trailing the familiar contours of her bedframe as she strained to listen. The house felt hollow, empty in a way she had rarely experienced. Muckley’s familiar rhythmic breathing, a comforting backdrop of her nights, was absent. The subtle creak of her father shifting in his chair, sipping coffee as he painted late into the night, was missing as well. Instead, silence pressed in from every angle, heavy and unnatural.

She turned her head toward the window, where a gentle night breeze drifted in, brushing coolly against her skin. But no sound accompanied it—no whispering leaves, no nocturnal insects singing softly from the shadows. It was as though the entire world held its breath, waiting in fearful anticipation.

Her heart quickened.

Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she felt the chill of the wooden floor beneath her bare feet, grounding her briefly in the reality of her room. Her fingers closed around her cane, the polished handle familiar and reassuring. Its presence steadied her nerves but failed to dispel the uneasy sensation curling within her chest.

She inhaled slowly, gathering courage. “Dad?” she called softly, her voice sounding oddly fragile against the oppressive quiet. No answer. She tried again, slightly louder. “Muckley?” Again, nothing but silence.

Tightening her grip on the cane, she rose, muscles tensed in cautious readiness. She moved forward, the floorboards creaking gently beneath her tentative steps. Hiraeth never left without ensuring she knew exactly where he would be. Even during his late-night painting sessions, he’d always let her know, always made sure Muckley remained close by. This emptiness, this complete silence, was entirely unlike him.

Her breathing grew quicker, shallow with worry.

She turned again toward the open window, her senses straining to detect any hint of what was amiss. At first, nothing emerged from the silence—but gradually, she became aware of something different, something intangible. Not a sound, not exactly, but a feeling—a shift in the air, heavy and oppressive, as though an immense presence loomed somewhere close yet impossibly distant.

The pressure was overwhelming, like the deep, foreboding stillness before a storm, like standing at the edge of an abyss she couldn’t see but could sense profoundly. Her skin prickled with unease, her pulse thrumming anxiously in her veins. She’d felt strange sensations before, subtle warnings in the air before a change in weather, before rain or wind. But this was deeper, darker, more unsettling.

It felt wrong.

Liora’s breath hitched sharply. This presence—it pressed against her skin, seeped through the walls, curled invisibly around her limbs. It was as though something vast and ancient had shifted its attention toward their world, focusing its dreadful gaze upon their tiny, isolated home. The sensation crawled into her bones, an unbearable weight in her chest, making her want to shrink into herself, to hide from an unseen force.

She took a shaky step backward, her cane striking the floor with a loud, jarring tap. She froze, heart hammering painfully in her chest. The silence deepened impossibly, seeming to gather and swell around her like a living thing. The air was no longer empty—it was charged, alive, electric with the menace of something unseen but dreadfully real.

It wasn’t merely in the house, she realized, nor confined to the silence. It was everywhere, stretching far beyond their valley, permeating the air itself. Her blind eyes lifted involuntarily toward the open window, toward the unseen skies above.

It hung somewhere above the stars, beyond the reach of the tower’s comforting light.

And whatever it was—whatever terrible thing had set its gaze upon their world—it was drawing nearer.