*Maerilee*

The whispers never stop. Even when the room is quiet, even when the halls are empty, they slither through the cracks of my mind like vines. Cold. Coiling. Rooting deeper with every breath I take.

“You are too weak.”

“You let him die.”

“You will never be enough.”

“You should kill yourself.”

The last one hits hardest. I flinch, curling tighter into myself, my knees drawn to my chest atop the cold stone of my chamber floor. My fingernails dig into my scalp as I clutch at my temples, shaking from the force of it, the weight of it. I know the thoughts aren’t mine now. I know they...