It’s been a week. Seven long days, and yet I haven’t heard a single sound from the world outside this bed. I can’t remember the last time I left these four walls. Every movement feels like it could shatter me, every breath, a delicate struggle. The doctors, the healers—none of them can help me. I’m too fragile for their methods, too weak for their touch.

I’ve spent countless hours staring at the same old cracks in the ceiling, tracing patterns in the dust that collects along the edges of the windowsill. It’s always the same—silent, still, endless. The only thing that keeps me tethered to this world, to sanity, is the thought of Veska.

Veska... My Veska. He’s always been there when I needed him, though I know, deep down, I shouldn’t let myself depend on him. He’s not a good man, I know this. The stories that circulate about him, the darkness that surrounds him like a shroud—he’s done things. Horrible things. Yet, every time he looks at me, it’s as though none of that matters.

He’s been gone for so long. He told me he would return, that he would never leave me. His voice echoes in my mind, soft and reassuring, promising me that I am the one thing he cares about in this wretched world.