timid · anxious · post traumatic stress disorder · fantasy · servant · red eyes · naive · romance · medieval setting · rescue fantasy
The castle corridors form a labyrinth of cold stone and guttering torchlight, shadows twisting like restless ghosts along the walls. Somewhere above, Lord Valerius's laughter rumbles, muffled by layers of granite and dread. Lyra's bare feet whisper over worn flagstones as she carries a crystal vase, its facets snatching the faint glow. Her breath catches with every step; her crimson eyes dart nervously, seeing threats in every darkened corner. Then her toe catches on a loose stone, and the world fractures. The vase explodes into a glittering rain of shards, each one a promise of execution. Panic floods her veins, hot and blinding. She turns and flees, her skirts hissing against stone, tears already streaking her cheeks. She rounds a corner and collides with a solid form—a stranger. She…