Chapter 27

The nightmare I had only a few hours ago still replayed in my mind with a vivid, terrifying clarity that made my pulse thrum against my skin. I could still feel the phantom heat of the inferno licking at my limbs, and the voice of that ‘thing’ in my head continued to echo, mocking me. It felt far too real to be a mere figment of an overactive imagination. For days, I had been desperately clinging to the lie that it was just stress or the mountain air playing tricks on my mind, but as I sat trembling in the silence, I realized that even that comfort was a hollow deception. The heat was real. The voice was real. And the fear was becoming my only constant companion.

Sitting here idle, trapped within the oppressive silence of these four walls, wasn't going to do me any good. Every second of stillness allowed the darkness to creep closer. I took it upon myself to get out of this room, driven by a desperate need to outrun my own subconscious. The room wasn't quenching my wandering thoughts; it was a pressure cooker, intensifying the dread until I felt I might shatter. To make matters worse, that entity in my mind kept spouting hateful, venomous messages at random intervals. It was a psychological war of attrition designed to keep my nerves frayed and my spirit broken. I couldn't breathe in here.

As I walked toward the heavy oak exit, I found Alec standing guard, a silent sentinel of my imprisonment.

“Alec, I need to grab some fresh air,” I said. I made sure to pull from some hidden reserve of strength to keep my voice firm, despite the way my hands wanted to shake.

“Ma'am, Sir gave strict orders for you to remain in your room until further notice—”

I didn't let him finish. I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “Monsieur Aurelien said I could go out provided I had supervision. I am not against you coming with me, Alec, but I refuse to stay in this room for another minute,” I said, my voice resolute and unyielding.

He stood there for a long, agonizing moment, his eyes searching mine as he weighed my desperation against Aurelien’s absolute authority. It took him a few seconds of silent deliberation, but he finally gave a curt, reluctant nod. He led me through the winding, cold corridors of the castle, moving toward a wing I hadn't yet been permitted to see. As we walked, I realized with a pang of irony that while I had spent time "outside" before, I had always been contained strictly within the estate walls.

Finally, he pushed open a rusted iron gate, leading me into what appeared to be a hidden, wild garden. The sun hit my face, and for a moment, it felt divine. The warmth was a stark contrast to the hellish, soul-burning heat of my dreams. It made me feel human again. This was exactly what I needed true distance from the torment of my own thoughts and the shadowy corners of the estate interior. The garden was a riot of wildflowers, looking beautifully uncared for and overgrown. It felt free, wild, and fulfilled in its abandonment. I felt a strange kinship with the weeds pushing through the cracks in the stone.

“Nice to see someone actually using this part of the castle,” a voice called out from the greenery behind me.

The sudden sound shattered the silence, and I stumbled in surprise. My shoe caught on a protruding root, and I went down, landing hard on the damp earth.

“Are you alright?” the voice asked, hurrying closer. A pair of hands reached down to gently bring me to my feet. I felt him check my arms and shoulders for scratches in a purely concerned, non-sexual manner, his touch light and respectful. I looked up, blinking against the sunlight, and saw a man dusted with the honest labor of the earth. Dirt was smeared across his cheeks, his simple clothes, and even through his dark, messy hair. But it was his eyes that caught me dark grey, like the stones of the mountain, yet they looked startlingly kind and innocent.

“Miss, are you hurt? That was a nasty spill,” he asked again. His voice was something I felt I could listen to for an eternity soft, well-mannered, and filled with a genuine warmth.

“Yes, I’m alright. Thank you for your help,” I replied, hurriedly brushing the soil from my skirt, trying to regain some semblance of dignity.

“What are you doing all the way out here, Miss—?” He trailed off, his head tilting to the side as he waited for a name.

“Seraphina. It’s Seraphina,” I replied, the name feeling strange on my tongue in this peaceful setting.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Seraphina. The name’s Finlay,” he said, grinning at me with a brilliance that made the garden seem even brighter. I felt my face grow unexpectedly hot, and I had to turn my head away to hide the sudden, treacherous blush creeping up my neck.

“Seraphina is fine,” I corrected him softly, feeling a lightness in my chest I hadn't felt in weeks.

“Oh, in that case... What brings you here, Seraphina? This isn't exactly the most sought-after place in the estate. Most people prefer the manicured lawns at the front.”

We dived into conversation then, the words flowing with an ease that felt like a miracle. We spoke of anything and everything the weather, the world beyond the walls, the simple beauty of the mountains. He told me he was an employee who came three times a week to maintain the flowers, though he joked that the flowers mostly maintained themselves. He even shared a few clever tricks about handling the estate stern, penny-pinching accountant, making the grand estate sound like a common place of work rather than a prison nowadays. Finlay felt like a true companion, a soul untainted by the darkness of this place. I couldn't stop laughing at his tales, the sound echoing through the wildflowers.

“Here you go,” he said, plucking a vibrant, golden bloom from a nearby bush. He tucked it behind my ear with a wink. “A beautiful flower for another beautiful flower.”

I laughed at his blatant cheesiness, but it felt refreshing almost nostalgic.

However, as the golden light began to fade and the shadows of the estate walls stretched across the grass, I knew the fantasy had to end. I got to my feet, the weight of my reality returning.

“It was lovely having your companionship for the day, Seraphina,” Finlay said. He took my hand in his, calloused and warm, and pressed a gentle kiss to my knuckles. I could only cover my mouth to stifle a giggle, my face burning with a deep, unmistakable blush.

But the joy died instantly. A viscous shiver ran down my spine, as if someone had poured ice water over my soul. I felt a glare aimed directly at the back of my neck. I looked up toward the high stone terrace, and there stood Monsieur Aurelien in his full, terrifying glory. He was gripping the stone railing so tight his knuckles were white as bone, his tall silhouette blocking the dying sun. His eyes weren't just angry; they were brimming with a pure,

possessive rage that seemed to freeze the very air in the garden, turning my brief moment of summer back into a mountain winter.