---
John walked just ahead,
flanked by Aurora and Finn.
The three had been quiet for most of the walk—
surrounded by silent guards in dark, uniform rows.
Not a word had been spoken since they were led here.
Not to them.
Not between them.
Not until now.
"Anyone else feel like they brought us the long way on purpose?" finn whispered.
"You think?"
Aurora answered.
She took a glance at the guards.
They were eerily silent, hoods covering their faces.
A beat.
Then, finn spoke up.
"...Loving the silent treatment, guys."
They kept walking in silence.
With only the sound of their footsteps, and distant noises.
After a while,
the gates finally came into view.
The gates loomed tall—too tall.
Familiar, but… heavier.
Like they'd grown since last time.
"Weird," Finn muttered, scratching behind his ear.
"…Didn't Jake, Sally, and King leave before us?"
Aurora glanced up at the guards.
"Yeah. We split up, but they should've beaten us here, right?"
She clutched the satchel tighter under her arm.
"They did take the other path… but it's not like it was that far."
John glanced sideways,
he stopped.
Turned slightly.
Eyed the nearest guard.
"Excuse me—where are the others? The rest of our group?"
No answer.
He tried again.
"Jake, Sally, King. They were escorted as well. Are they here?"
Still nothing.
"Maybe they got a sightseeing detour too." finn said.
The guard didn't break stride.
Finn raised his hand dramatically, waving at the man's face.
"Hello? Anyone in there? You're allowed to talk, y'know."
A beat.
"...Helloo? Any chance you're more than statues?" Aurora added.
Still silence.
"…They're likely behind."
Another guard finally answered.
His voice was mechanical. Dry.
As if read from a script.
John frowned. "Behind?"
"They may have… taken a longer route."
Finn blinked.
"Didn't WE take the long path?"
"Maybe they got lost?" Aurora suggested, clearly not buying it.
Aurora's eyes flicked to John, then Finn.
"Or they're just fashionably late," Finn joked, trying to ease the tension.
"Very on brand for Jake."
Nobody laughed.
They reached the final steps before the gate. It creaked, not loud—just enough to feel wrong.
Then—
"You always have to get caught in something, huh?"
That voice.
Finn spun around first.
"HARRY!" he shouted. "You're not dead!"
Aurora startled, slapped her hand over his mouth—
then blinked, dropped it, and shouted louder.
"HARRY! WE THOUGHT YOU DIED IN THE LIBRARY!"
Harry stepped out of the shadows, brows raised.
John clasped his shoulder.
"Welcome back," he said.
Quiet. But sure.
Harry gave a soft smirk. "Didn't know I left."
Aurora stepped in close, eyes sharp. "What took you so long?"
"Got a little... distracted."
Finn grinned. "Classic."
They fell into step as the gates swung open fully.
And then, slowly...
closed behind them.
---
The door shut behind, with a low thud.
Not loud.
But final.
The echo left seemed to hang in the air longer than it should.
The kind of sound that doesn't just signal a door closing — but something beginning.
The four of them stood still for a moment.
John.
Aurora.
Finn.
Harry.
No one spoke.
Their footsteps echoed as they began walking again — soft, hesitant.
The hallway before them stretched long and straight.
No turns. No words. Just columns and arches and shadow.
It should've felt familiar — they've walked this way before.
But it didn't.
Not now.
The estate was colder than before.
Or maybe… just quieter.
The warmth it once faked was gone.
---
The lights overhead were dimmer, too.
Not burnt out — just… lowered.
Deliberately.
As if the estate itself was trying to see,
without itself being seen.
The guards walked behind them now.
Not leading. Not speaking.
John glanced over his shoulder.
Still the same.
Still silent.
Still masked.
They kept walking.
Every sound felt too sharp.
Even the smallest scuff of a boot sounded like it was being judged.
They passed an attendant in the hallway—
pale robes, hands clasped, standing perfectly still beside a pillar.
She didn't look at them.
Didn't greet them.
Didn't even breathe,
as far as they can tell.
Just waited.
As if her role was to wait.
As if they're late to something they never agreed to attend.
They walked past her.
---
They passed another hallway — empty.
Another chamber — abandoned.
A long window — drawn with sheer curtains, which barely moved.
No music. No chatter. No clinking trays or distant echoes of life.
Only this:
A still, suffocating calm.
Aurora held her satchel tighter.
Finn shifted his weight every few step, trying to make his footsteps quieter — but only made it worse.
Harry wasn't fidgeting.
Didn't make a noise.
He just kept watch at the ceiling as they moved—
as if reading the architecture.
Or trying to find something wrong in the shadows.
The estate didn't feel like a home.
More like a museum.
But not the kind that was open. But closed. Fairly recently.
The kind with things inside, only left there to rot.
One of the chandeliers creaked.
Just once.
All four of them glanced upward in unison.
But it didn't fall.
Just swung gently. Back. Forth.
Like something unseen had moved past it.
They kept walking.
Still no one spoke.
---
The hallway widened.
Subtly at first.
But enough that their footsteps stopped echoing.
The shift in acoustics was nearly imperceptible —
but they felt it.
Here, the walls didn't press in.
They watched.
A high ceiling stretched overhead like the mouth of a giant.
The arches were sharp. Angular. Deliberate.
Every window was shuttered.
On either side, a pair of twin statues stood—
figures cloaked in stone, heads bowed, hands cupped as if offering something.
But the bowls were empty.
Finn slowed.
His eyes trailed the smooth stone of the nearest statue,
then glanced at the other.
They were the same.
Identical.
Aurora's footsteps slowed too.
She didn't look at the statues.
She looked at the floor —
at how the marble darkened closer to the double doors ahead.
Like the color had been worn down by the weight of too many feet stopping here.
Pausing. Hesitating.
It was the familiar dining hall of the governors estate.
One they've dined in not too long ago.
John walked steady.
He didn't like being led. Especially not into silence.
Harry scanned the ceiling again.
The light here was even dimmer than the hall.
Every sconce and fixture cast just enough glow to keep them from seeing the corners.
Then—
The doors ahead creaked open.
Just slightly.
Not pushed.
Not pulled.
As if they'd been waiting for the group to arrive.
John stopped.
Aurora and Finn halted just behind him.
Harry stepped to the side, not forward—
eyes narrowed, calculating.
Inside,
beyond the sliver of open door,
only dim golden light spilled out.
No voices.
No music.
No scent of food.
Just light.
And something… still.
The kind of stillness that doesn't come from absence.
But from expectation.
Then —
One of the guards behind them moved.
Just one step forward.
A soundless prompt.
John breathed in once, steady.
He stepped toward the door.
It opened wider— not with a gust, not with grandeur.
With intent.
Then a voice.
"Tell me…"
A voice calm. Smooth.
"…What did the three of you see beneath the city?"
---
The dining hall was vast.
Dimly lit.
Too many candles.
Too many chairs.
Too much space between everything.
At the far end,
The Governor stood— not seated, not relaxed
Unsmiling.
Waiting.
Watching them enter.
A servant — faceless, quiet — stepped forward at the side.
He began lighting candles.
One by one.
Flick.
Flick.
Flick.
Each flame sharpened the shadows instead of softening them.
In the distance, a grandfather clock ticked.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Slow. Unchanging.
No chime yet. Just pressure.
The sound you forget is there until it's the only thing you hear.
Jake's boots clicked against the floor as he approached the table.
Sally stayed just behind. Her hands at her sides — calm, too calm.
King walked like someone who's already memorized every exit.
They stop near the table.
Then,
The Governor stepped forward — arms behind his back.
He gestured softly toward the chairs.
"Please," he said.
"Sit.
We have much to discuss."
Jake sat first.
Sally and King followed—
but only because Jake did.
They're seated now.
The Governor remained standing.
The clock continued.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
"I'd like to hear about your day."
---
The Governor took his time before speaking again.
He still didn't sit.
Simply watched.
Behind him, a servant poured water into tall, thin glasses.
The sound was soft, polite.
But in the silence,
it sounded like a river being drawn through glass.
No one touched their drink.
Jake's eyes remain locked on the Governor.
King watched the room.
Sally's eyes were on her plate— but not the food.
The Governor smiled faintly.
"You've all had quite the journey since you arrived."
He spoke softly,
"You've seen our markets, I'm told.
The workers' district.
The archives."
He began walking slowly along the side of the table,
hands folded behind his back— not circling them, but orbiting.
The clock ticked in the distance.
Tick.
Tick.
"It must have been strange, at first."
His eyes passed over Sally as he spoke that line.
She didn't flinch.
The Governor continued.
"New faces. New rules. New layers."
A candle flickered a little too hard.
Jake's jaw tightened.
"But I trust…"
The Governor drawed out the pause.
"…the people of Vash'Kael have been accommodating."
No response.
He didn't wait for one.
Just kept walking.
Just kept speaking.
"It's a complicated city, isn't it?"
"Built on trust."
"And understanding."
"And of course…"
He stopped.
Just behind Jake's chair.
"…boundaries."
Jake stiffened slightly.
The Governor's smile lingered for a breath longer, then faded— not gone,
just… reeled in.
The candles reflected in the Governor's eyes now.
He moved back to his original place at the head of the table.
He folded his hands in front of him.
"Tell me…"
"Jake.
Sally.
And you..
King."
"…What did the three of you see beneath my city?"
There was a beat of silence.
Not long.
But just long enough to stretch.
Just long enough for the air to shift.
Even the walls too were listening now.
Jake sat back slightly, arms crossed, brows lowered.
"...A lot of stone,"
he said flatly.
"Dust.
And some very... dedicated architecture."
A smirk tugged at his lip — but didn't reach his eyes.
The Governor didn't smile.
Sally folded her hands in her lap.
"We got turned around, mostly," she offered calmly.
"It wasn't exactly a guided tour. So we just.. explored."
King didn't speak.
He just kept watching the Governor.
Watching his posture.
His stillness.
The Governor nodded slowly.
Almost approving.
"You're all resourceful," he said.
"That.. I was expecting."
Another pause.
Another tick.
Then:
"But,
what gave you the impression you were allowed to explore beneath Vash'Kael?"
Jake blinked.
The smirk faded.
Sally glanced at Jake — subtle, brief — then back at the Governor.
"...There weren't signs," she said, her voice low.
"Or guards stopping us."
The Governor stepped forward.
"So you assumed you had permission?"
Still calm.
Still polite.
Jake spoke up.
"Well, we didn't break anything..."
"Didn't steal anything."
"Didn't even touch anything that wasn't already broken."
He shrugged.
The Governor's gaze narrowed.
"Did you ask?"
Jake frowned.
"Ask who?"
"...Anyone."
The governor continued,
"Did you ask anyone for permission before trespassing into the most protected layer of the city?"
Sally's fingers tensed on her dress.
King's hand slid slightly across the table.
Jake exhaled through his nose.
"Didn't realize curiosity was a crime here." he said almost playful.
The Governor didn't flinch.
"It's not."
"Until it begins making choices on behalf of others."
Another tick.
Then:
"You see…
Vash'Kael runs on structure.
On consent.
On awareness."
He moved again — slow, deliberate.
"You've seen the chains, haven't you?"
None of them responded.
The Governor's tone lowered.
"You looked into a history that wasn't yours."
"Touched places still healing."
"Found answers you were never meant to understand."
"Even then,
being mere travelers."
Another beat.
"So I'll ask again—"
"What did you see...
beneath my city?"
---
The question lingered.
Longer this time.
And this time — it settled in.
Like dust.
Like judgment.
Jake's fingers tapped once on the table.
Then stopped.
He looked at the Governor.
Not defiant.
But done with the game.
"...You wanna know what we saw?"
His voice wasn't raised.
But it had an edge now— a tremor of heat behind it.
"We saw a city built on silence."
He continued.
"We saw names scratched into stone."
"We saw people who'd been forgotten on purpose."
Sally shifted slightly beside him.
A warning.
But Jake didn't stop.
Didn't blink.
"We saw what you're trying to hide."
The Governor didn't interrupt.
Didn't frown.
Just… listened.
Quietly.
Tick.
Tick.
"Jake—" Sally's voice was low.
But he pushed forward.
"We didn't.. steal your secrets."
"They were lying there in plain sight."
"As if they wanted to be found."
"So, what we did was natural."
The Governor took a single step forward.
"Boy…"
His voice was softer now.
"…you speak like someone who owns the truth."
A beat.
Jake scoffed.
"Better than someone who buries it."
There it was.
The snap.
Sharp.
Unfiltered.
King tensed — enough for Sally to catch it.
The Governor studied Jake for a moment.
No anger.
But something colder.
Sally breathed in sharply—
and then,
winced.
She clutched her side with a quiet groan.
"Ugh— sorry," she muttered, head lowering.
"I think...
I think it was the stew."
Jake turned, startled.
"Sally?"
She waved him off — not dramatically, but just enough.
"It's fine. Just need to lie down.
Ate too fast or something."
The Governor watched her closely.
Then — smoothly — he motioned to the side.
An attendant was there instantly.
Expression unreadable.
"Please," the Governor said softly,
"Ensure she's seen to.
My dearest apologies — if the kitchen failed you."
Sally gave a polite, pained nod as the attendant gently guided her up.
Jake rose instinctively — but King put a quiet hand on his shoulder.
Don't.
The message was clear.
Sally offered a weak smile.
"We can talk more later," she said.
"About the chains. Or... whatever."
The Governor nodded once.
And said nothing more.
As Sally exited,
the silence returned.
The ticking resumed.
Jake sat back down — slower now.
The heat behind his words had faded.
But the tension had not.
And, for now..
The interrogation was over.
"Ah,
I was waiting for your arrival.
"Honored guests."
---
"Ah…"
The voice rings out.
Smooth.
"…I was waiting for your arrival."
A pause.
"Honored guests."
The double doors open fully.
Johns the first one who steps through.
Finn, right behind him.
Aurora, clutching her satchel.
Harry, dead silent.
The dining hall looked the same as before,
Back when they knew nothing about the city.
But, feels completely different somehow.
The table was long, immaculate—
but something was off.
There was no food.
Plates.
Cutlery.
Wine, Water.
No empty placements.
But there was no food on the table.
Like the performance was over,
and they're left with only the stage.
The Governor stood at the far end, again.
Smiling.
But it's not the same smile from before.
A smile sculpted to put them at ease while they shouldn't be.
he spoke, gesturing ahead.
"Please,"
"Sit.
We have much to discuss."
His voice lighter this time around.
More relaxed.
Friendly, even.
Finn's eyes immediately scanned the table.
"No food?" he muttered.
Aurora took a quiet glance at the table as well.
John, looked around.
At the empty plates.
At the unlit candles.
At the chairs across the table—
the ones left slightly out of place, as if recently vacated.
Harry noticed it too.
A faint trace — a single chair still slightly warm.
A glass with a fingerprint smudge.
But he didn't say anything.
The Governor gestured again, with a soft laugh.
"Ah — yes. I do apologize.
We had an… earlier complication in the kitchen."
His smile held.
But the apology did not.
"I thought it best to… keep this gathering light."
They sat.
Slowly.
Reluctantly.
John, then Finn, then Aurora.
Harry remained standing a beat longer,
eyes still fixed on the Governor.
Then—
slowly, reluctantly —
he took his seat as well.
But none of them truly settled.
Their eyes scanned the room.
Their thoughts weren't on the table.
They were on the chairs beside them.
Where were Jake, Sally, and King?
They hadn't seen them.
Hadn't passed them.
And the Governor hadn't said a word about them.
Finn leaned in slightly toward John, whispering under his breath.
"Should we ask?"
Aurora gave him a tiny nudge.
A subtle glance.
Do it.
John hesitated, just a moment.
Then turned his gaze toward the Governor.
"Before we begin…"
"The others. Jake, Sally, and King—"
"We were separated on the way here. Are they—"
He didn't finish the sentence.
Because the Governor didn't answer.
He didn't even look up.
Just gently adjusted a cufflink at his wrist, then raised his eyes—
not to John.
Not to anyone in particular.
Just… across the table.
"So…"
"How was your day?"
No one answered.
Not because they didn't want to.
But because they couldn't.
As if the governors presence had sealed their mouths shut.
He took a slow step forward.
Still not sitting.
"Did you find what you were looking for?"
He said it lightly.
But, his eyes cut through the table—
not toward anyone in particular.
Only waiting to see who flinched.
John stayed still.
Harry blinked once.
Aurora glanced toward Finn, uncertain.
Finn half-lifted a brow—
but didn't speak.
The Governor smiled faintly.
"How did the Lower Quarter treat you, John?"
His voice still soft. Still pleasant.
John froze.
Couldn't say a word. Although he tried to.
The Governor continued, as if not expecting a reply.
He turned slightly.
"And you, Harry."
Harry's fingers froze above the table. Mid-tap.
"Still curious about power?"
No malice in the question.
No threat.
Only certainty—
as if he already knew the answer.
Harry said nothing.
Beside him, his shadow-familiar shifted once by his side.
The Governor's smile didn't change.
He briefly looked at, Aurora. Her satchel.
Then, he smiled.
"You've seen the heart of my city now."
He walked around the table slowly.
"Walked its veins. Breathed in its silence."
He paused behind them, the tick of the clock louder now.
"But, i bet..
You're still not satisfied."
"...am I correct?"
No one answered his question.
Not right away.
The Governor waited.
He didn't push.
Just let the stillness speak for them.
Finally — he gave a small nod,
as if their quiet was the answer.
He began walking,
Returning to the head of the table.
"Well," he said,
brushing an invisible crease from his sleeve,
"it seems the city left quite an impression."
Another beat.
Then:
"You're free to explore again."
His eyes swept across them.
The next words landed softer— but sharper.
"But only within these walls."
The weight of it wasn't in the volume— but in the precision.
Like a velvet rope being drawn around them,
"We wouldn't want you getting lost again, would we?"
He smiled faintly.
Maybe even mockingly.
---
The Governor's smile lingered a moment longer.
He stepped back from the table.
Hands still folded.
Posture still immaculate.
"I believe that will be all for tonight."
The sound of the clock behind him had never stopped.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
The chairs scraped softly as they stood— slow, uncertain.
No servants returned.
No one came to guide them out.
Just the Governor, watching.
Finn shifted his weight awkwardly.
Aurora glanced sideways at John.
Harry was the last to rise— eyes still locked on the empty table,
where no meal had been served to them.
John gave the Governor a nod.
Respectful. Controlled.
The kind of nod one gives to a man whose rules now cage them.
"Thank you," he said.
The Governor simply nodded in return.
"Rest well."
His voice was softer than before.
Almost gentle.
But beneath the civility… was finality.
As though,
he had closed a chapter in his mind.
A step behind the others,
Harry turned briefly as they walked.
The Governor was still there.
Their gazes met for a brief second.
Something unspoken had been said.
And then,
he turned.
---
The four of them walked by themselves,
surrounded by nothing except silence and the darkness accompanying it.
They walked,
The same hallways.
The same arches.
The same soft glow of dying sconces,
as before.
Before dinner,
it was anticipation.
Now?
It was residue.
John walked ahead, arms at his sides, shoulders tight.
Finn walked with hands on his pockets, kicking the air.
Aurora walked just beside him, eyes fixed on the ground.
Harry trailed slightly behind.
They passed another window.
The curtains were still drawn.
Still unmoving.
No breeze.
No sound.
"He was different," Aurora finally said.
Soft.
Quiet.
Finn snorted under his breath.
"Different's one way to put it."
John didn't stop walking.
But he spoke.
"He knew everything."
No one disagreed.
Harry, from the back:
"It didn't feel like he wanted answers.
He just...
wanted our reactions."
A few more steps.
Tick.
Somewhere, the clock still chimed — faint and far.
"...Think the others are ok?" Aurora asked.
Her voice didn't carry.
Like she didn't want to wake the walls.
Finn rubbed the back of his neck.
"I... dunno."
Harry let out a soft breath.
"They're probably fine."
They looked back.
"...They're tougher than they look."
Harrys shadow-familiar twitched at his heels.
That unexpected reassurance from harry calmed them down, for now.
Still,
A quiet unease lingered between them.
They reached the end of the hall— the guest quarters.
Same door as before.
Same golden knob.
John paused in front it.
He didn't reach for it.
Just looked at it.
Then turned slightly to the others.
"Guys..
"We better not leave our rooms tonight."
"Not until we figure this out."
They nodded.
John turned the knob slowly.
The door opened with a soft creak.
Inside—
the room was dim.
Warm light from a single oil lamp cast soft, swaying shadows across the walls.
And there lying in bed—
Sally.
Blanket pulled halfway to her chest.
Face pale, but eyes open.
Jake sat near the edge of the bed,
elbows on his knees, hands clasped together.
He looked up the second the door opened—
Then, eased when he saw them.
King stood near the corner, arms folded. Silent.
He smirked as they entered the room.
And beside the bed—
An attendant stood with a cold cloth,
gently adjusting it on Sally's forehead.
Movements slow. Controlled.
The four stepped in, unsure whether to speak.
They didn't have to.
Sally gave the faintest smile.
"Hey," she murmured.
"You missed dinner."
They didn't laugh.
But they all exhaled.
Finn stepped closer,
eyeing the cloth on her forehead.
"Well...
was the stew any good at least?"
Jake groaned softly, dropping his head into his hands.
King shook his head, smirking from the corner.
Finn blinked.
"What."
"I just want a review."
He shrugged.
Sally closed her eyes.
A beat.
Then,
She smirked.
"Terrible."
---
Aurora let out a tired breath, shaking her head.
Finn eased down into a seat by the wall.
Jake gave a quiet, muttered, "I'm sure it was." he said, sarcasticly.
John stepped closer to the bedside,
his eyes never leaving Sally's face.
He crouched slightly, resting an arm on the edge of the bed.
"You sure you're alright?"
Sally opened her eyes again.
Met his gaze.
Nodded once.
"I've faked worse." she said with a hushed voice and a subtle wink.
John smiled. Finally starting to grasp what was happening here.
He stood, then turned to the attendant,
who still stood nearby, hands folded neatly in front of her.
Silent.
Watching.
John nodded politely.
"She's in good hands now."
A pause.
"Thank you," he added.
Gentle, but firm.
"We'll take it from here."
The attendant didn't move at first.
Just stared at Sally,
as if waiting for a second opinion.
"Really," Sally added, lifting her hand weakly.
"I promise not to die tonight."
Still, the attendant hesitated.
Then gave a shallow bow—
more protocol than sincerity—
and turned to leave.
Her footsteps were silent as she disappeared into the hall.
The door clicked shut behind her.
And, finally, for what felt like hours..
they were alone.
Almost immediately,
Finn stretched out,
yawning loudly.
"Well. If no one else is dying, I vote we pass out immediately."
Aurora yawned, then tackled him.
Then, they both started wrestling each other.
Jake adjusted in his seat, spectating them.
King stepped away from the wall, finally letting his posture relax.
He walked past the chaos on the floor—
Finn shrieking as Aurora pinned him with a pillow.
"Uncalled for!"
"Justice," she replied, grinning.
Jake enjoying the display,
mock rooting for no one in particular.
Shouting,
"SUPLEX! SUPLEX!"
"I already retired that move, man," Finn mumbled, face buried in the blanket now,
"But thanks for the morale boost, dude."
Sally shifted slightly in bed, half-smiling as she watched them.
"Don't make me laugh," she warned.
"I might throw up from nothing."
John chuckled under his breath.
He turned and gently pulled the blanket higher around her shoulders.
"Try to rest,"
"You earned it." he said softly.
She nodded.
Eyes already starting to drift.
One by one, they began settling in.
King dragged a spare blanket off a nearby couch and took a bed in the corner.
Jake took an armchair near the window.
Aurora and Finn eventually collapsed together on the floor— mid-bickering, mid-laughing,
both too tired to care.
The room dimmed into hush.
Just the sound of breathing. Cloth shifting.
And somewhere distant—
That same quiet, steady tick.
---
The room had settled into stillness.
Bodies draped in blankets.
Breathing evened out.
The faint golden lamp now flickered low.
Finn was out cold,
sprawled like he lost a fight with the blanket.
King,
silent and still in the corner.
Jake, half-sitting, half-slumped, arms crossed over his chest.
Sally lay on her side, facing the wall.
Her eyes… still open.
After a moment—
Aurora whispered beside her.
"You scared us, you know."
Sally didn't move.
But her lips twitched.
"Worked, didn't it?"
Aurora:
"Barely."
A pause.
Sally:
"I wasn't sure it would."
Another beat.
"…If he called my bluff, I didn't have a second plan."
Aurora didn't respond.
She just gently reached, took Sally's hand.
Held it.
Squeezed.
Near the window, John sat on the floor.
Elbows on knees.
Eyes on nothing.
The candle was nearly out.
Across from him, in the dim,
Harry leaned against the far wall— very much awake.
He glanced at john.
"You don't sleep much, do you john?"
John exhaled, eyes still on the dark outside.
"Still awake?"
Harry shrugged.
"Yeah. Can't sleep."
A beat.
"I always figured you were nocturnal anyway." john said, flat.
"...Like an owl?"
"...Yeah? Yeah."
Harry hummed— low, noncommittal.
A silence stretched.
"I used to. You know."
John's voice was quiet.
Almost lost in the low tick of the wall clock.
"Sleep, I mean."
Harry looked over.
Didn't speak.
Just listened.
"Back home… I'd sleep like a rock. No dreams. No thoughts. Just out."
John rubbed the side of his jaw with one hand.
"Now, I close my eyes and I just… hear things."
A pause.
"Voices. Things people said. Stuff I should've done differently."
His voice didn't crack.
It was too calm for that.
Too worn.
"I keep wondering if I made the wrong choice two steps back, and I just didn't know it yet."
Harry didn't offer comfort.
Didn't interrupt.
Just let the words settle.
John shook his head slightly.
"I'm supposed to lead, you know?"
"But half the time, I feel like I'm guessing just a little better than everyone else."
He finally looked over.
"Does that sound insane?"
Harry's expression didn't change.
But his voice was steady.
"No."
"It sounds...
like someone who's still trying."
John stared at him for a moment longer.
He let out a long, tired breath.
Then, slowly, he nodded.
For a moment, it was just the two of them—
alone with the weight of their thoughts, their choices, their uncertain path ahead.
The candle flickered, dimming ever so slightly.
The faintest crackle, and it sputtered once.
Then, finally,
it went out.
---
Silence.
The kind of silence that feels like it's waiting for something.
The room was dim, lit only by a few candles.
Their flames flickering gently, but nothing moved.
No clock ticked here.
Only the sound of the candle's slow burn—
its wax whispering in the silence.
The Governor stood alone.
He moved to the far side of the study, where a long, ornate table sat.
Before him,
the gameboard.
Not cluttered.
Not chaotic.
But changed.
Pieces had been moved.
Some sections were completely clear now—
wiped clean like nothing had ever stood there.
Others… overcrowded.
Condensed.
As if the game was tightening.
He stood motionless for a moment,
simply studying it.
Eyes narrowed.
Not pleased.
Not angry.
Then—
He reached forward.
From a small cluster of figurines near the side of the board—
an area shaped vaguely like a long dining table— he selected a single piece.
Small. Delicate.
He turned it slowly between his fingers.
Once.
Twice.
Then,
he placed it beside the candle.
And,
without a word, he nudged it gently into the flame.
It caught fast.
Not with violence.
Just with certainty.
The piece curled.
Blackened.
Melted down into a quiet nothing.
The Governor watched the flame consume it.
His expression unreadable.
As the last of the piece crumbled into wax—
He leaned forward.
Blew out the candle.
The room,
fell into darkness.
---
[TO BE CONTINUED IN EPISODE 16]