And with that, the woman leaves me to stew in my thoughts.
The door eases shut behind her with a sound too soft for this place--- like it doesn't want to draw attention, like it knows even silence is a weapon here.
I sit there for a long time, staring down at the wooden blade, my breath is shallow and slow but my thoughts are moving too fast to catch. Two days. I've been unconscious for two days. And not one word from him. No guards, no visits, just this.... this room, this memory, this mind game dressed up in clean sheets and stale air.
Something gnaws at me. Not fear exactly.
It's the stillness.
The way it holds its breath, like even the walls are waiting for something.
I don't hear him come in.
There's no warning. No sound. Just a sudden shift in the room that makes my pulse skids when I sense it too late. I lift my head and he's already there.
Standing just inside the door.
The Ice King.
His presence cuts through the air like a blade.
He's not in his usual pristine form. No presse
