Amber light brushed the windowsill, weighed over its edge and pooling into the overgrown grass outside.

  Maline woke tangled in sweat-damp sheets, her limbs slack but her breath full. Thoughts snagged, hooked too slowly into a fading scene. Whatever words her dreams offered, she could hear them no longer. For a moment, she didn’t move. The world spun too violently when she did.

  As dusk began to flee, she tried removing her woolen blanket and pushing herself to sit, her legs dangling from the end of her bed frame.

  The act of rising only worsened her weakness, quickening her breath and threatening unconsciousness. A dull ache prodded at the back of her eyes as she swallowed, blinking sluggishly at the room. The effort drained what remained of her strength, and she fell again against the mattress with a groan.

  From her skewed vantage, the room tilted in ways that defied sense. Chairs stood rooted to the ceiling, candles burned downwards. She pressed her eyes shut until the world righted itself, rolling over on the bed and staring at the short nightstand on her right. There, candles—shorter than she remembered them—flickered quietly, their wicks charring in pools of liquid wax.

  A deep inhale steadied her. She forced herself up again. This time, she succeeded, though her knees proved unreliable beneath her as she shuffled toward the hallway. She glanced at her brother’s door, ajar, and saw him sleeping soundly inside. Smiling faintly, she eased the door shut before continuing toward the bathroom.

  Morning would come soon, and she wasn’t ready. For what, she wasn’t entirely sure.

  ???

  The room was austere, pared down to essentials. On the left, a small water basin rested beneath a wall-mounted spout, its surface worn but functional.

  Above them hung a mirror, tarnished, even curved by time. Maline’s hand soon found the grip of a metal handle emerging from the clump of valves on the wall. With a practiced tug, the pumps engaged, and a thin stream of water trickled from the spout, pooling in the basin.

  Picking at the specks of chipped paint on her palm, she glanced at the basin's inner markings—concentric circles etched into the metal, each marking a measured volume. The water in the basin barely reached the second line.

  Crossing slowly to a cabinet, she retrieved a few papers and a quill—barely succeeding. Her fingers fumbled slightly, her grip less certain than usual. She flexed her hand, rolling her shoulder as if to shake her joints into gear.

  On the sheet, rows of records tracked daily water usage, each entry labeled with a date and time. Her finger skimmed down the list until it reached recent figures. The numbers swam for a moment before settling into focus. Planting the sheets onto the wall, she wrote “two cups” beside the latest date: Gale’s sixth. Tiandi, sunset.

  She replaced the paper and quill, tidying up with brisk, practiced movements. Tedious, yes—but necessary. Every half-month, she and her brother submitted their logs to the local Lord, who calculated their dues. Those caught falsifying their records faced punishment, “severe as deemed necessary”, as was neatly pressed onto the sheets handed out on renewal.

  Dipping her head down, she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her muddy green eyes studied her own face, but no answers broke skin. Scrubbing the bed scent from her head, she arose refreshed before letting the water drain.

  Like her brother, she bore high cheekbones and an upturned nose, features somewhat distinctive to their lineage. Her stark black hair, cropped to her shoulders, framed the same lighter undertone of bronze to her skin, the same stature that made her brother tease her for being small. Something felt different. She frowned.

  Her brother…

  Her thoughts snapped back to him. Before leaving earlier, he’d mentioned he had work to finish outside. That wasn’t unusual—both of their days often stretched well into the evening. But now? Now, it was barely past dusk, and he was already asleep in his room.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Her reflection blurred, her focus shifting inward as she thought. He wouldn’t take the day off. He couldn’t. Not after being reprimanded so recently. He’d be called back to work immediately.

  Her gaze drifted to the cabinet. She opened it again and retrieved the water log, her damp fingers smudging the ink beneath her touch as she flipped to today’s entries. Her eyes traced the numbers carefully, her pulse quickening.

  The times didn’t line up.

  There were no records of water usage when he’d arrived home—none at all, and yet, he’d been clean. Too clean, given the way their weeks track mud and dust through every corner of these rooms.

  Her heart thudded as she checked the day before. Nothing unusual. Trailing her finger up and down the page, “Aledi: Two cups… Sonnedi: Half cup… Tiandi: Three cups. Ample rain.” Two days ago. Tiandi. There: an entry near evening, logged under her brother’s name. She glanced back to today’s date. Tiandi, again.

  No, that didn’t track. "Today would be Barccidi, the week’s end, then…"

  Her fingers began to crumble the edges of the page. Her mind fought the conclusion, but the ink wouldn't rub away.

  "I’ve missed two entire days. But how?" she asked shakily—had she really been asleep for two days?

  What had happened? Why couldn't she remember?

  That would explain the weakness in her limbs, the fog in her mind. But it raised more questions than answers. Had something happened to her brother? Her breath hitched as panic surged in her chest.

  Hastily, she shoved the paper and quill back into place—but paused, her breath unsteady. No, this wasn’t normal. She gripped the basin’s edge, holding her head, forcing herself to breathe. Finally, she darted from the room, the mirror trembling slightly on its hook.

  ???

  She stopped.

  With a gasp, her hands shot to her temples.

  It splintered. Her head—something was coring out the deepest recesses of the bone.

  The pressure grew unbearable. The white of her skull sought her thoughts, closing inward, hold strengthening by the moment, creaking need through her ears.

  Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor, her vision rippling. The room in her sight tilted violently, and the dull beige walls of the house deepened to a dark chestnut, rich, alive, red.

  Her lens bled outward, the droplets of her fractured sight rejecting the light they once took in. She blinked, desperate to reset her vision, but the scene only refracted, blending as if being rendered.

  She wanted to raise her hands to block the chaos from sight, but they took hold of her scalp instead.

  She had to break it open herself. The pain, it would end, then.

  It would not have her.

  She called out, her voice breaking as her body swayed.

  “Gabe?”

  The sound was small, fragile, wrong, but it jolted him awake.

  He sat up, heart thudding at the unfamiliar tone in his sister's voice. He threw the blanket aside and stumbled into the hallway, blinking against the dim light.

  “Maline?” he called, his voice rising with alarm.

  There she was, crumpled on the floor, her body trembling violently as she stared blankly at the wall. Cold settled in his chest, and for a moment, he froze. The sight of her—so still—paralyzed him.

  He forced himself to move. Taking an unsteady step forward, he faltered again. What if he couldn’t help her? What if something was wrong—really wrong?

  “Maline?” His voice cracked.

  He closed the distance between them and crouched down, his hands hovering unsure before him. Was she conscious? Was she—

  Then it came again.

  “Gabe?”

  The sound was strange—thin, detached, and stretched too long, as though the word itself had lingered in the air beyond its time. A shiver crawled up his spine, but he shook it off and leaned closer.

  “Mal, I’m here,” he murmured, his voice softer now, though it trembled like his hands. He slipped his arms around her, peeling her grasping hands away from her head. She felt cold, her body still shaking against his.

  “It’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you,” he whispered, though he wasn’t sure who he was trying to reassure. He swallowed any questions.

  For now, all he could do was hold her.