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᯽ ᯽ ᯽
The night was thick with silence, the kind only found in the depths of the countryside. The wind whispered against the windows of Danson Hall, rustling the curtains ever so slightly, but inside the master bedroom, all was still. The only sound was the steady, rhythmic breaths of the Duke and Duchess, tangled in the sheets of their shared bed.
Until Alex began to stir.
His breaths came faster, uneven, his brow damp with sweat. His fingers twitched against the pillow, then curled into fists, his body tensing as his mind was gripped by a terror he could not escape. The dream had taken hold.
He stood alone in the great halls of their countryside home, the air thick with sorrow. The walls, once warm with candlelight and laughter, were now hollow, stretching endlessly into darkness. A storm raged beyond the windows, but it was nothing compared to the storm within him.
"Delphia?" His voice echoed, swallowed by the emptiness.
But she was gone.
Gone before their child was born. Gone before he could hold her hand and promise her everything would be all right. The child had followed her into death, leaving him with nothing but silence.
Then, he heard it.
A whisper, a wail, a cry carried through the corridors. He turned sharply. "Delphia?"
Her voice wept through the house. He followed the sound, his bare feet slamming against the wooden floor. Every shadow twisted into her shape, every flicker of candlelight a cruel imitation of her warmth.
He reached the nursery, a room that had never been filled, a cradle that had never rocked. The crib stood empty, untouched, a stark reminder of what had been stolen from him.
Then he felt her.
Not flesh and blood, not warmth, but a ghost. A lingering presence.
He spun around, and there she stood in the doorway, shrouded in pale moonlight, her nightdress billowing as though caught in an invisible breeze. Her eyes, once full of life, were hollow now, filled with unshed tears.
"Alex," she whispered, reaching for him.
He stumbled forward, desperate to hold her, but the moment his fingers brushed hers, she vanished like mist.
"Delphia!" His voice shattered against the walls, his chest heaving as he spun wildly, searching. "Please, please don't leave me!"
The house wept with him, her cries echoing in the wind. He ran through the halls, turning every corner only to find emptiness. The scent of her lingered, a cruel trick of memory.
He fell to his knees in the center of the grand hallway, his hands shaking as he clutched his chest. The grief was unbearable, a weight so crushing he thought it might kill him, too.
