Isadora:
Sleep never came.
I lay in bed until the candle at my nightstand drowned in its own wax and the shadows along the ceiling grew restless. They moved like ink across water—sliding, stretching—until I couldn’t tell where the room ended and the dark began. The nightmare from last night still clawed at the edges of my thoughts, a silent fire licking at my ribs. Every time I closed my eyes I felt it waiting, patient and merciless.
By the hour before dawn I gave up.
The corridor outside my room was silent but for the soft moan of the wind through the arrow-slit windows. Ashywick never slept; it only shifted, dreaming with its stone bones. I couldn't lay there anymore. I crawled out of bed, in my nightgown, lantern in hand. My boots whispered against the ancient floor as I slipped int
