The iron bit tasted of rust. I spat blood into the straw.

My brother, Thomas, stood three paces away. His sword was a sliver of white light against the dark tapestry of the hall. He did not look at me. He looked at the King.

"Kneel," the King said. His voice was soft. It was the sound of snow falling on stone.

I did not kneel. I held the hilt of my own sword. It was not steel. It was bone. It was carved from the femur of a stag I had hunted in the winter of my birth. The courtiers laughed. It was a polite laugh. The laugh of men who have seen many strange things and found none of them worth the trouble of understanding.

Thomas’s eyes moved to me. There was fear in them. Not fear for himself. Fear for me.

"You are a monster, Ely," he whispered. The words were small. They died on the air.

I am not a monster. I am the shadow the castle casts when the sun is high and the stone is cold. I am the thing that lives in the walls. I am the draft that chills the blood of the old men who sit in the high seats.

The King raised a hand. The laughter stopped.

"Bring the chains," he said.

They were not chains of iron. They were chains of song. They hummed as they came. They hummed in a key that made my teeth ache. They were woven from the voices of the priests. They were heavy with prayer.

Thomas stepped forward. He put his hand on my shoulder. His glove was leather. It was warm.

"Let me go," I said. My voice was gravel. It was the sound of the earth shifting under the foundations.

"I cannot," Thomas said. "You belong to the Crown now. You are the Crown’s shadow."

I looked at the King. The King looked at the floor. He was counting the pattern of the mosaic tiles. He was counting the reds and the blues. He was trying to find a number that would make the pain stop.

The chains touched my wrists. They did not burn. They cooled. They sucked the heat from my skin. They sucked the light from my eyes.

"Cut him loose," the King said to the guards. "If he moves, strike him down. If he speaks, cut out his tongue."

Thomas drew his sword. The steel sang. It was a high, clear note. It was the note of loyalty. It was the note of duty.

I looked at Thomas. I saw the tear track on his cheek. It was a river of salt. It was a river of sorrow.

"I love you," I said.

The guards raised their halberds. The points glittered. They were stars fallen to earth. They were cold and dead.

Thomas lowered his sword. He sheathed it. The click was loud in the silence.

"I love you too," he said. "But you must go."

The King stood up. He walked toward me. He did not walk. He glided. His feet did not touch the ground. He was a ghost in his own court. He was the idea of power made flesh.

"You are free," the King said.

The word hung in the air. It was a bird with broken wings. It fluttered. It fell.

Free.

The chains dissolved. They turned to mist. The mist curled around my ankles. It smelled of lilies. It smelled of death.

I looked at Thomas. He was standing alone. He was a small figure against the vastness of the hall. He was a speck of dust in the beam of light that fell from the window.

"Run," I told him.

He did not run. He stood still. He watched me.

I turned to the door. The door was open. The night was waiting. The night was black. The night was full of teeth.

I stepped out.

The cold hit me like a wall. It was sharp. It was clean. It was the first thing that had touched me that did not want to own me.

I ran.

I ran through the streets. The cobblestones bit into my feet. I did not feel them. I ran through the markets. The stalls were empty. The vendors had fled. They had seen me. They had seen the shadow.

I ran to the edge of the city. The walls were high. They were made of gray stone. They were made of fear.

I looked up. The sky was clear. The stars were out. They were watching. They were judging.

I looked down. The moat was below. The water was black. It was still.

I jumped.

The fall was long. It was slow. I saw the water coming up. I saw the reflection of the moon in the ripples. I saw my own face.

I did not splash.

I sank.

The water was warm. It was like blood. It was like the womb. It was the place I came from. It was the place I was going to.

I closed my eyes.

The darkness was soft. It was a blanket. It was a mother.

I thought of Thomas. I thought of his face. I thought of the tear on his cheek.

I had given him my freedom. I had taken his peace.

The price of my release was his guilt.

The price of his loyalty was my death.

I opened my eyes.

I was not in the water.

I was in the attic.

The attic was small. It was dark. There was a window. The window was open. The moonlight poured in. It was silver. It was cold.

I was sitting on a chest. The chest was made of oak. It was old. It was heavy.

My hands were bare. There were no chains. There was no blood.

I looked at my hands. They were my own hands. They were small. They were pale.

I stood up. My legs were steady.

I walked to the window. I looked out.

The city was below. It was sleeping. The streets were empty. The lamps were out.

I saw a figure in the square.

It was Thomas.

He was standing under a lantern. The light was yellow. It was dim.

He was looking at the moon.

I raised my hand. I waved.

He did not see me.

He turned. He walked away.

He walked into the dark.

I stayed by the window.

The wind blew in. It was cold. It was sharp.

It smelled of lilies.

I smiled.

The smile was wide. It was sharp.

I was free.

The freedom was a cage. The cage was made of light.

I was the shadow now.

I was the thing that lives in the walls.

I was the draft that chills the blood.

I looked at the chest. It was open.

There was a letter inside.

The paper was white. It was old.

I picked it up.

The handwriting was Thomas’s.

*Dear Ely,*

*You are not a monster. You are a man. You are my brother. You are free.*

*Do not come back.*

*Do not look for me.*

*Live.*

*Yours,*

*Thomas*

I read it again.

The words blurred.

The ink bled.

The paper dissolved.

It turned to ash.

The ash fell to the floor.

It was gray.

It was cold.

I looked at the window.

The moon was setting.

The night was ending.

The day was coming.

The day was bright.

The day was cruel.

I stepped back from the window.

I sat on the floor.

I put my head in my hands.

I waited.

The sun rose.

The light filled the room.

It was golden.

It was warm.

It was beautiful.

It was death.

I closed my eyes.

I breathed.

The breath was slow.

The breath was deep.

The breath was life.

I opened my eyes.

The room was empty.

The window was closed.

The chest was closed.

There was no letter.

There was no ash.

There was no Thomas.

There was only me.

I stood up.

I walked to the door.

I opened it.

The stairs were below.

The hall was below.

The King was below.

I went down.

The steps were cold.

The stone was hard.

The air was stale.

I reached the bottom.

The hall was empty.

The throne was empty.

The King was gone.

The courtiers were gone.

The guards were gone.

There was only the dust.

There was only the silence.

There was only the shadow.

The shadow was mine.

I looked at the shadow.

It looked at me.

It smiled.

I smiled back.

I walked out of the hall.

I walked out of the castle.

I walked into the world.

The world was wide.

The world was free.

The world was mine.

I walked.

I walked.

I walked.

The road was long.

The road was straight.

The road was endless.

I walked until I could not walk any more.

I sat down.

I looked at the sky.

The sky was blue.

The sky was endless.

I breathed.

The air was sweet.

The air was clean.

I was alive.

I was free.

The freedom was heavy.

The freedom was light.

The freedom was pain.

The freedom was joy.

I was the shadow.

I was the light.

I was the dark.

I was the dawn.

I was the end.

I was the beginning.

I was the word.

I was the silence.

I was the breath.

I was the blood.

I was the bone.

I was the stone.

I was the dust.

I was the nothing.

I was the everything.

I was free.

The price was paid.

The debt was cleared.

The soul was bought.

The body was sold.

The spirit was free.

I stood up.

I walked on.

The sun set.

The stars came out.

The moon rose.

The night fell.

I walked.

I walked.

I walked.

The road disappeared.

The world disappeared.

I disappeared.

I was gone.

I was free.

The silence was loud.

The silence was soft.

The silence was mine.

I was the silence.

I was the void.

I was the peace.

I was the end.

I was the start.

I was the breath.

I was the life.

I was the death.

I was the shadow.

I was the light.

I was the dark.

I was the dawn.

I was the word.

I was the silence.

I was the breath.

I was the blood.

I was the bone.

I was the stone.

I was the dust.

I was the nothing.

I was the everything.

I was free.