"There you are, Ana! Honestly. I've been looking for you for almost an hour. Ar--gods. You haven't even dressed."

Iliana didn't look up from the carefully drawn music sheets spread before her. Her fingers no longer pressed keys, but instead traced the ivory and spruce, the ghost of her melody playing through her mind. The barest strings of serenity lingered in her veins, but disappeared the second Mara sat backwards on the bench and laid one hand over the back of Iliana's.

"I know you're mad, but that doesn't mean you can skip this," Mara scolded. "There are many important people showing up at tonight's ball. You should've started preparing at least two hours ago. I know the maids tried. I talked to them earlier."

Two hours ago. Iliana pushed back the memory of what had happened then, jerking her hand away from Mara as she did. It wasn't worth explaining. If she told her sister how Kyril had shown up while Iliana readied to 'lecture' her about the upcoming event, Mara would likely tell her not to lie, or to stop blaming her faults on someone else. She was willing to bet the staff left out the reason when complaining about her disappearance.

Instead of replying, Iliana absently played with her free hand, the music soothing the dark emotion tangling her gut. Her music tutor was the only person Kyril had hired that didn't seem to hate her. The calm, stern woman always sat next to her during their lessons, guiding her hands with either word, or gentle touch, sometimes even voicing pride in Iliana's skill.

"I'm not going."

Mara sighed, and even without looking, Iliana knew her sister would be pinching the bridge of her nose. "It's not a choice, Iliana."

She stilled, the disappointment in Mara's voice hitting harder than the sound of her full name.

"Kyril and I just want the best for you. Lord Eneas has territory, and while he might just be a viscount, that's the best we could aim for given our history. And...I know you hate it here. Kyril says it's for the best."

"He's seventeen years older than me."

Mara was silent for a moment. "Kyril was twenty-seven when we wed. Fourteen years older. And, we're happy. Please, Iliana. Give it a chance. I think you can be happy, too. And that's all I wish for in this life. Kyril wants that as well. He's promised me this is a good match."

The faintest ache in her shoulder reminded Iliana of how strongly her brother-in-law felt about the engagement.

"Come. If you don't go back now, there won't be enough time. Lord Eneas asked to be your escort tonight. He'll be here within the hour."

Iliana reluctantly let herself be dragged to her feet, then led away to be primped and painted. Everything about the situation chilled her to the bone. But, Mara was right. She didn't have a choice. Which was why she said nothing when Lord Eneas arrived and she was nudged in his direction. The touch of his lips on her hand twisted her stomach.

Lord Eneas was dangerous. The rumors swirling around him in high society were drenched in blood.

She knew it. Kyril knew it. Everyone in the house knew it. Only Mara remained ignorant.

And her sister only listened to Kyril.

Iliana might as well have been a lamb sold for slaughter.

"Are you awake?"

Whether she'd been dreaming, or just lost in her spiraling memories, the stranger's voice snapped Iliana to the present. Uncertainty held her tongue. Was this who Zuher had been talking about, before? Someone who'd been brought to the tower with the sole purpose of conversation? Was there a point in talking to them? Wouldn't that just be playing into Zuher's desires?

Would they be harmed if she didn't?

"Ah, your breathing changed. You are awake."

A shuffling sound reached her ears. It drew closer in the darkness, and while the exact location was hard to place, Iliana had the impression that whomever was talking had moved closer, settling on the other side of the cell wall that separated them.

"That's creepy," Iliana informed them.

A raspy laugh came in response, followed by a cough. "A bit, I suppose. But it got you to talk, did it not? What is your name?"

She hesitated. "Iliana. You are?"

"Ah. Zuher didn't tell you." The stranger paused, silence cloaking him for a moment.

It was then that Iliana realized there was something familiar about the strong accent the stranger spoke with. It brushed the back of her mind, urging her to place the country. Unfortunately, her starved, shadowed mind was too scattered to put together what should have been simple information.

"I--I realize it's a bit hypocritical," he continued. "But I would prefer not to share as long as he is staying silent. But, I suppose no name would be hard...Caydel would work, if you need one."

Caydel.

"Who exactly are you?" she demanded.

"I said--"

"No, beyond your name. Who are you?"

"That's a bit difficult to answer," Caydel mused. "A fellow prisoner, I suppose?"

"You suppose?"

"Sorry. I am a fellow prisoner."

"You aren't helping me trust you. If you're a spy, you're doing a shit job."

Her words sparked Caydel's laughter, which turned into low, harsh coughing. She grimaced. While his words were suspicious, and questionable, each time the stranger had to stop between words to breathe, or their scratchy voice cracked, doubts wedged their way into her mind. After all, demons were immortal. Within the bounds of Reotak's borders, they were bothered by neither disease, or injury.

And if sounds were to be believed, the stranger was in poor shape.

"Lucky for me, I'm not a spy," he paused, then continued, tone a tad more serious. "That doesn't mean I think you should trust me, though. Trust no one here. You'll live longer."

"How encouraging."

Caydel's resulting laughter faded to silence after a moment. It consumed the room, and then, when the dark had begun to wear away at her again, his voice halted the vivid memories.

"What's your favorite color?"

"Excuse me?"

Confusion filtered through her scattered thoughts. Her eyes shifted towards where his voice originated, as if the darkness could answer why he'd asked such an out-of-place question.

"Your favorite color," he repeated. "I think mine would have to be... carmine."

"What even is that?"

"Hm, well..." He hummed for a moment, as if giving himself time to collect his words. "It's a shade of red."

"Why not just say red then?" she demanded.

"Because it's not quite red. There's a bit of purple in there. Think... ruby red."

"Gods, just say ruby red then."

"I like the word carmine," he replied. She could almost hear the shrug in his voice. "Your turn."

"Why?"

"Why not?" Caydel countered. "Do you have something better to discuss?"

"We could just discuss nothing."

After all, she wasn't to trust him.

He was silent for a moment. "Have you ever been told why dungeons like these are dark?"

"...no."

"It worsens the effects of total isolation. The mortal mind wasn't designed to exist in complete darkness. At first, it just throws off your sense of time. You can't tell morning from night, minutes from hours. I imagine you've already noticed this."

She had.

"It has also been noted to lead to a depressive state, worsening the effects of any mental, or physical torture that might occur. When you can't tell whether one minute of pain, and one hour of darkness, the mind begins to break down. And, at that point, most start seeing things that don't exist, or losing themselves in the past. I believe that typically starts around the third or fourth day."

Silence fell as panic captured her chest. Gods, she had no clue how long she'd been in the dark, how often she'd lost herself to sleep or memories. Given that the dark was worse for her than most, would she even last that long?

"And the best way to fight that, if you're wondering, is avoiding isolation," Caydel continued.

"So, Miss... what's your favorite color?"

The question hung heavily in the otherwise silent air for an immeasurable amount of time. Then, Iliana released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"Blue."

"Oh, pretty. Which is better, the blue of the ocean, or the blue of the sky?"

Her back settled against the wall behind her as tension slowly slid from her limbs. Whether this man was a spy, or simply another prisoner abandoned in the dark...did it matter? His point made sense.

If it kept her from going mad, she'd talk to him for hours.

"Both, that's why I said just blue. Both blues are freedom, so I love them both."

"Ah. Good point. Favorite food?"

"Dish?"

"If that's what comes to mind."

"Then..."

One question led to another, and as time clicked and sputtered, the memories somehow stayed stuffed into the back of her mind. Soon, it felt like Iliana knew more shallow details about the stranger than she could recall about most of her friends.

Caydel's favorite food was a kind of fish he didn't know the name for in common, and his favorite drink a rose tea his family grew on their estate. He had a fondness for horses and dogs, and was unable to decide which he liked better. His favorite childhood memory was a trip to a seaside villa when he was six.

Her tower-mate, Iliana quickly realized, was rich, foreign nobility. He never outright said it, but the more he spoke, sharing favorites and memories, it slipped between the vague details and side-stepped names.

Before she could decide to question the issue, however, Caydel's questions slowly faded, eventually leaving silence to encompass the prison. She might have pressed the issue, urged him to help her fight off the memories that strained her frayed mind, but the weakness that had seemed to grow intertwined with his friendly words made her hesitate, and ultimately decide to leave him be. Unbidden, her mind provided Zuher's voice.

'Perhaps he had too much attention before being gifted.'

The emperor had said that he would send for a witch to heal Caydel, but ever since she'd returned from court, they'd been alone. Which meant whatever had been done to him, assuming Zuher's words could be believed, was still an issue. It would be rude of her to interrupt his rest--as she had a feeling he had passed out--just because she found the dark difficult.

Still, Iliana was tempted.

It might have been minutes, or hours later, that the quiet finally broke to harsh, wet coughs. The sound spun something taut in her chest, and in a near unconscious gesture, Iliana unfurled her stiff muscles to stand. Dizziness made her pause, and for a moment she couldn't force her thoughts from the way her stomach clenched, reminding her of how empty it remained. It took a minute, but when her head settled, she pushed the pain and fear for herself back, before feeling her way across her cell. When she stopped her right hand rested on the wall that laid between them, and her left against iron bars.

He was quiet again, but that did nothing to ease the unidentifiable lump in her stomach.

"Caydel?"

Silence.

Should she ask if he was alright?

But, what if this was all a ruse? Asking meant it'd be obvious he was worried. And, if Zuher had put him here to play mind games, then she'd be handing the utter stranger a winning hand. The idea that he was a spy, that Zuher couldn't have had simple companionship in mind when lumping them together, wouldn't shake free from her thoughts.

Still, the longer the silence stretched, the heavier it weighed.

"I have a question," Iliana finally said. Her voice was hoarse from talking, her mouth dry, but still, she clung to their previous conversation.

If she couldn't bring herself to voice concern, the least she could do was provide Caydel the same distraction he'd offered her.

"Oh?" he replied after a pause. He cleared his throat as if that could improve the weak, scratchiness of his voice. "Ask away, then."

She hesitated, mind drawing a blank. What little detail could she possibly ask that they hadn't already covered?

"Favorite memory, period. Not including the aforementioned childhood memory, what is the best memory you have?"

Caydel hummed softly. Iliana had begun to recognize it as a habit of his. Whenever he needed time to think, he hummed under his breath, or tapped his fingers against the floor--a noise she could only hear due to how strongly the dark amplified her other senses.

"My wedding day."

Surprise flitted through her. For some reason, that answer had been the last she'd expected.

"You're married?"

He paused again. "Widowed."

She grimaced. It seemed, even in situations like this Iliana had a talent for walking into hard topics. So much for easing his mind. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," he replied, tone soft. The words had the air of someone used to speaking them, the lightness of an experienced pain that could be brushed aside with practiced ease. "It's been years since then. Six, precisely."

"Si--How old are you?" And why hadn't she asked about that instead of a memory?

"Twenty-five, or there about. Yourself?"

Gods, what day even was it? Hesitation fluttered through her as Iliana realized how long it'd been since she'd lost track. How much time had passed since the wreck of the Airlea? More than a month or two, she knew. Which meant her birthday must have gone by.

"Nineteen."

Six years younger than him. Which meant Caydel would've been her age when he lost his wife. She couldn't imagine it.

Silence stretched, broken when a dragging, shuffling sound met her ears. Her best guess was that Caydel was shifting around his cell, although the question of why he had to move in such a loud manner spurned concern, which she instantly dismissed.

"Cassia and I were engaged when I was seventeen, and we were wed by eighteen. I remember pouring over each detail of the entire event. When we'd met, I was unsure, because of... troubling circumstances, but when I saw her, I fell, and that was it," Cayden remembered, his warm voice sounding much closer than before.

Had he moved to resting against the wall that rested between them? Did he notice how close Iliana stood?

"Well, fell as much as you can for someone you don't truly know. So, a tad shallowly. Still, it meant I made the wedding the most beautiful day I could manage. Which is why it is a precious memory.

"Cassia didn't feel the same towards me, though, which she made quite clear by setting guidelines for how our marriage would go. Still, she looked beautiful in that dress."

He paused to cough. Something about the wry, yet fond tone he spoke with drew Iliana attention. Her lips moved before her mind.

"Did you love her?"

She wasn't sure she'd ever met a noble couple who truly loved each other. She knew they existed, but in her experience, most were simply wed for money or politics. It was typical to expect feelings, or at least companionship, to follow. And if it didn't, well, noble spouses had separate rooms for a reason.

"A bit, I think," Caydel answered. His voice was soft at first, then grew as he continued. "We didn't match well. She was cold, and wanted space. I prefer to be close to those I like. But, we didn't hate each other, so at least the memories weren't spoiled."

"Anyways. That's my answer. Now, what about you?" Caydel clapped his hands. "What is your best memory?"

She hesitated, her mind flickering through the past. A favorite memory?

"I guess...it would be when I met my best friend."

"Oh?"

"His name is Kain."

Her legs shook, so she slid to her knees, hand still resting against the wall. Despite how her body ached, how if she focused on one part of her for more than a second, it felt as if the pain would consume her, Iliana found something akin to comfort as she began to speak.

"The first meeting lasted mere seconds, so I'm not sure he remembers it. It changed everything for me, though." To the point that each detail seemed ingrained in her mind. "Afterwards, I would sometimes wonder if the gods had twisted fate to give me a break from the shit I'd fallen in."

And now she knew it hadn't been for her, or mere chance, but thinking on that for too long would cause panic. So, she focused on the story, and the story alone.

"It was three years ago..." 

A/N: I'm so, so late with this, I know. I got lost on the path of life, and suddenly a month had gone by without me updating. 

If it comes as any condolence, I plan on trying to push out another update for Friday if I can. Which will make up for two of the three missed weeks. The third would either come out between this Friday and the next, or would come after the next scheduled update (March 26th.) 

Anyways! 

Finally, you get to meet the voice in the dark. Is he what you expected? More? Less? Think she's right to be wary of him? 

See you soon! Hopefully. <3