Page 142 of Somno Slave
Rheda
I can’t sleep.
My body feels like it’s been packed with wet sand. Every limb is heavy, every thought is slowed to a dull crawl. The sky outside my flat is a deep blue, streetlights casting thin amber halos onto the pavement below. The world feels distant, muffled behind glass.
But inside, everything is too quiet.
I lock my front door, slide across the bolt and check it twice. Then once more, just to be sure. The sound echoes more than it should.
I move through the motions automatically. Shower. Brush teeth. Change into loose cotton shorts and its matching shirt that feels soft and safe.
By the time I drop into bed and pull the duvet sheets high, exhaustion drags at my bones. The silence presses in around me.
But my eyes aren’t heavy. They’re wide, searching.
I turn off the bedroom light. Darkness floods the room in an instant. I stay still, letting my eyes adjust. The faint orange glow from the streetlight bleeds through a gap in my curtains, painting long shadows across the walls. The ceilings look lower in the dark.
The sheets are cool against my body, and it’s a relief. I’m burning up in anticipation.
I roll onto my back and wait.
Normally, it doesn’t take long.
Normally, by the time my breathing slows and my thoughts soften, the world tilts. The familiar pull tightens around my ribs like a hook catching fabric, and then he usually appears.
But tonight, nothing happens.
I stare at the ceiling. I focus on my breaths.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
My mind refuses to drop. It circles instead.
I roll onto my side and close my eyes.
Minutes pass. Or hours. Time feels too thick in the dark.
Come on, Deogal.I hear my thoughts beg before I can comprehend the significance.
A flicker of anger sparks beneath the exhaustion.
You don’t get to disappear.
The silence presses harder.
I picture the stone chamber. I try to summon it. But it doesn’t come.
There’s no flicker or shift. Just blackness behind my eyelids.
My throat tightens.
“Deogal,” I whisper into the dark.
