Chapter 33: For Now
As Eira walked away, Marianna watched her with narrowed eyes. She would make Ephyra pay—of that, she was certain. But for now, she had to bide her time.
Inside the mansion, Eliot stood by the window, watching the exchange from a distance. He couldn’t hear the words, but the body language was clear enough. Ephyra had changed—dramatically. He wasn’t sure what had caused this transformation, but something told him that his daughter was no longer someone to be underestimated.
He turned away, his thoughts a swirl of conflicting emotions. He had so many questions—about the attack on Ephyra, about who had sent the men after her, and about the strange shift in her demeanor.
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Elma’s voice, soft with concern, echoed in the quiet of the room. "Are you sure you’re alright?"
Eira, glancing around the space, replied almost absentmindedly, "Yes." This was the first time she was really seeing Ephyra’s room aside from the flashes of memories she had of the space. She moved closer, taking in the details of her surroundings.
The room was modest—almost too modest. Its minimalist decor gave off a feeling of calm austerity, as if its inhabitant had no desire to be seen or to make her presence felt. The walls were a soft shade of powder blue, offset by crisp white bedding. A simple black desk and armchair sat in one corner with nothing but textbooks, notebooks, stationery, and a single black-and-white photograph in a slim frame. The bed, made up meticulously, had a quilted white comforter that gave it a luxurious touch, but even that couldn’t detract from the overall cold simplicity of the room.
No personal touches—no posters, no trinkets, no sign that the person who lived here wanted to leave a mark on the world around them. A single blue vase on a nearby shelf held white peonies, but they were artificial. The curtains, a deep charcoal gray, framed the window, barely allowing the setting sun’s golden light to seep into the room.
Eira ran her fingers over the smooth black surface of the desk, her gaze lingering on the carefully organized bookshelves that held more dust than actual books. "What a hermit she was," she murmured. "So much silence. So much emptiness."
Elma gave Ephyra a worried glance as she placed a covered glass of milk on the bedside table. "Miss Ephyra, I just wanted to be sure—if there’s anything you need, you must let me know. Do you have injuries?"
Eira turned to Elma with a soft, almost apologetic smile. "Thank you, Elma. But really, I’m fine." She walked over to the closet and opened it. "No injuries," she said as she raked her eyes through the bland clothes in there.