"Trust is not a luxury we can afford.
Not after betraying the world."
Those words had been repeating in my head ever since Father said them. They weren't just a mere exaggeration—they were suffocating and oppressive, as though what he was saying was something he was very worried about.
"Huhhh," I sighed, the sound echoing faintly in the silent corridor.
The walls of black wood shone faintly under the flickering light of the candle torches, their soft glow painting dancing shadows that seemed to make fun of my restless thoughts. The calm of the surroundings did nothing to soothe the storm inside me.
Ever since I arrived here—my home, supposedly—everything had happened too fast. Too fast to process. Too quick to make sense of. Too early to feel real.
