Zaliyah awoke from his midday nap with a sudden, jarring clarity. For the first time since his awakening, the castle felt eerily quiet.
The stools where Harun and Iruna usually sat were empty, the wood cold. He sat up, yawning, and moved toward the tall silver mirror to gather his hair into a messy bun.
As he lifted his arms, his fingers brushed the scarry ridges on his throat. He leaned in, squinting at the reflection. Insects have claws? he mused, his brow furrowing. He wasn't a scholar of demonology, but he knew enough of the world to recognize the difference between a sting and a tear. He didn't fully buy the "bug" story, but he pushed the thought aside. Usually, those who knew nothing were the safest, and he had a child to protect.
His gaze fell upon the mountains of bags from their shopping trip. A small giggle escaped his lips.
