intrepidity

The house was quiet, too quiet for Aurora's liking. The soft tick of the clock on the wall felt loud in the stillness of the night, and as she lay in bed, tossing and turning, sleep seemed to slip further away. The dim light from the hallway filtered through the crack in her door, casting a faint glow over the room.

Aurora stared at the ceiling, her mind racing, the events of the day still fresh in her thoughts. She was still a little shaken, but mostly, she was exhausted—physically and emotionally. The quiet, however, wasn't helping. The stillness felt oppressive, like something was missing.

She shifted in her bed, the sheets tangled around her legs. Her mouth was dry, and she could feel the heaviness of the day weighing on her chest. Finally, unable to stay still any longer, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, the cool floorboards sending a chill up her spine. She needed water. That would help, she thought.

The hallway was dark, save for the faint glow of a nightlight in the kitchen. She moved quietly, padding barefoot down the hall, her heart thumping with each step. She didn't want to wake anyone. Everyone needed their rest after the day's chaos.

As she passed the stairs leading to the main floor, she heard it.

A rustle.

It was faint, but unmistakable. A shuffle of feet, then a whisper of voices in the distance. She paused, her breath catching in her throat. She didn't know why, but she felt drawn to the source of the noise. It was coming from the garden, near the back door.

Her curiosity piqued, Aurora crept closer, heart racing with each step. She peeked around the corner, trying to see through the curtains. From where she stood, she could make out the shadowy figures of a few guards. They were moving with purpose, but she couldn't quite tell what they were doing.

Another figure appeared, one that didn't belong. The guards grabbed him roughly, dragging him across the garden.

Aurora's stomach dropped. Her instincts screamed at her to leave, but she couldn't. She felt a strange pull toward what was happening. She took a step forward, then another, and before she knew it, she was out the door and into the cold night air, slipping past the guards and heading for the dark corner of the garden.

She barely heard the sound of the door opening behind her.

"Aurora," Aiden's voice rang out, deep and commanding, though it held an edge of concern. "Where do you think you're going?"

She froze, the shock of being caught making her heart leap into her throat. She spun around, wide-eyed, guilt flooding through her.

"I... I just—" Her voice faltered. She didn't have an excuse. She didn't know what she was doing.

Aiden's eyes were narrowed, his posture tense as he took a step forward. "Aurora," he said again, his tone sharper this time. "Get inside."

The firmness in his voice made her flinch, and she immediately regretted stepping outside. Her hands trembled as she backed toward the door, trying to avoid his gaze.

"I—I'm sorry..." she mumbled, her words barely audible. She didn't mean to disobey. She just wanted to understand what was going on. The fear of the unknown gripped her, and in her panic, she almost missed the look on Aiden's face.

He didn't shout. He didn't even raise his voice. But there was an unmistakable chill in his expression, something that made Aurora's stomach twist.

"Inside. Now," Aiden ordered.

Her feet moved on their own, but it wasn't out of defiance. It was out of fear. She could feel his gaze burning into her as she walked back into the house. The moment she crossed the threshold, he followed, shutting the door behind him with an audible click.