Page 31 of The Fractured Veil

My entire life, they had been my silent companions, dancing around me, weaving in and out of my periphery, wrapping me in their embrace like a protective blanket. As a child, I had lived in their presence, finding comfort in their dark, gentle caress. They had always been there during my moments of isolation, flickering playfully in the corners of my vision, but I had never understood their significance until now. Now, they felt both familiar and elusive, their movements almost mocking, as if they were aware of my struggle to connect.

This could be my chance to discover what they are—whatIam—how I'm connected to this gifted world. I needed this more than anyone realized. To finally not be an outsider, perpetually on the fringes, looking in. I wasn't welcome in Nyvorthia, cast out like a stray. And I wasn't entirely welcome here at the academy either, not yet. Maybe this strange, swirling darkness held the key to finally belonging—to finding a place where I wouldn't have to constantly hide the strange whispers that echoed within me.

I could feel their energy pulsing, a living entity just beyond my grasp. The way they danced around me reminded me of fireflies on a warm summer night—beautiful, mesmerizing, but frustratingly unattainable. Every time I reached for them, they would shift away, refusing to reveal their secrets.

I breathed in the stillness of the forest, letting go of the fear and frustration that had been building within me. I focused on the memories of comfort the shadows had always offered, the sense of belonging they gave me in the quiet moments. I reached out to them, not as a master seeking control, but as a friend seeking connection.

Chapter14

Thalia's POV

Flashback: 15 years ago

I watched the children play from the window, their laughter a distant melody that only sharpened the pang of loneliness in my chest. They looked so happy, so carefree—their world a vibrant tapestry of games and shared joy. I never meant to hurt anyone; I never meant to scare them. But the whispers followed me like a shadow, and the fear in their eyes felt like daggers piercing my heart. Each outburst, every flicker of anger or frustration, pushed them further away, leaving me isolated—trapped behind the cold glass of the window.

"Thalia!" The sharp voice of Glenna, the caretaker, startled me, slicing through my thoughts. "Get away from the window."

I flinched, my eyes widening with fear as I turned to face her. The familiar look of disgust twisted her features, as if my very presence offended her. The disappointment in her gaze cut deeper than any words could. Glenna, with her stern face and perpetually pursed lips, had always been quick to reprimand—her sharp voice echoing through the halls like a harbinger of doom.

"What did I tell you about staring?" she snapped, her eyes narrowing. "You need to stop lurking around like that. It frightens the others."

I shrank back, the sting of her words wrapping around me like a vise. "I don't want to scare them," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I just want to play."

"Why do you always have to be like this?" she retorted, her hands planted firmly on her hips. "You know the other children don't want to play with you. They're scared of what you can do."

I swallowed hard, my gaze falling to the worn floorboards as I mumbled, "I wasn't doing anything wrong. I was just watching."

Glenna scoffed, her expression hardening. "Watching, yes. Until another 'incident' happens. You know what happens when you lose control, don't you, Thalia?" She stepped closer, her imposing figure looming over me, and I instinctively recoiled.

I nodded quickly, tears stinging my eyes. "I—I know. I promise I won't... I won't let it happen again."

"Promises," Glenna sneered, her voice dripping with disgust. "You've promised before, haven't you? And still, trouble follows you."

Her expression remained cold, unforgiving. "You need to control yourself. You're a danger to them, and to yourself."

The weight of her words settled heavily upon me, deepening the familiar ache of rejection. I wanted to scream, to let my emotions spill over in a way that wouldn't hurt anyone, but instead, I stood frozen in silence.

I looked up briefly, a desperate plea for understanding in my eyes. I wanted to defend myself. To explain that it wasn't my fault, that I didn't ask for this strange power that seemed to surge within me—uncontrollable and terrifying. But the words caught in my throat. All I saw in Glenna's eyes was a chilling mix of fear and disappointment. Defeated, I lowered my gaze once more, letting the silence speak for me.

"Good. Now, get back to your room," she ordered coldly. "Stay there until I say otherwise."

Without another word, I turned and fled, my small feet carrying me quickly down the narrow, dimly lit hallway. The carefree laughter of the other children echoed behind me, a painful reminder of everything I was excluded from. I reached my room, a small, sterile space with bare walls and a single window overlooking the desolate backyard, and pushed the door shut. Leaning my forehead against the cool wood, I finally let the tears flow freely.

The shadows were already there, waiting for me, dancing along the walls, curling into the corners of my tiny sanctuary. They were my only companions, my silent confidantes. I watched them, letting their presence fill the emptiness inside me, wrapping me in their dark embrace like a comforting blanket. They never judged me, never turned away; they simply stayed, soothing me when no one else would.

"Maybe I am the problem," I whispered to the shadows, my voice cracking with despair. "Maybe this is where I belong—hidden away, alone."

* * *

Tears welled in my eyes,blurring the present as the memory, sharp and vivid, resurfaced from the depths of my subconscious. A memory I had apparently suppressed, buried beneath layers of forced resilience and false indifference. But now, the feeling of rejection and isolation came flooding back, raw and overwhelming, a tidal wave that threatened to drown me in its intensity.

"Maybe I am the problem," the echo of my younger self whispered in my ear. "Maybe this is where I belong—hidden away, alone."

The words replayed in my mind, a haunting refrain that refused to be silenced. What had really changed?Nothing, I thought bitterly. I'm still the outcast, the anomaly, the one who doesn't belong. I'mstillthe problem.

The shadow swarmed around me, their cool touch a comforting presence amidst the storm of emotions. They were silent reassurances, their darkness a shield against the pain that threatened to consume me.

But this time, I wouldn't just let them comfort me. I would embrace them, become one with them. I grabbed hold of them, twisting them into myself, pulling them closer, deeper. I let them seep into me, embracing the familiar darkness, letting it weave through my veins until I felt it within every fiber of my being. This time, I wouldn't let it just be a blanket, a shield; I would let it become a part of me, my strength, my power, not my burden.

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