The seal cracked.

It sat on the table. A circle of wax. Red. Deep and dry. I watched it break. A fissure ran from the top. It split the center. The emblem was gone. I had worn it away.

I am Elias. I live in the house. The house is old. The stone is cold. My wife, Mara, is gone. She left this morning. She took the keys. She took the coat. She did not take the seal.

She told me it was enough.

I do not know if it is. I sit at the table. My hands are still. I look at the wax. It is flaking. The red is fading. It looks like dried blood. It looks like old rust.

Mara came back.

No, she did not. I am waiting. I am always waiting. The clock ticks. The sound is loud. It fills the room. It is a heavy sound. It thuds against my ears.

I made tea. The cup is white. The steam rises. It curls in the air. I watch the steam. It disappears. Like her. Like the seal. Like the years.

I remember the day we found it.

We were in the cellar. It was dark. We had a lamp. The light was yellow. It shook in our hands. Mara held the other side. She was strong then. Her arms were tight. She pulled the crate loose. Dust fell. It coated our clothes. It got into our hair.

The seal was in a box. The box was iron. It was heavy. We lifted it together. The lid was stuck. We pried it open. A groan. A long, low sound. The air came out. It was cold. It smelled of earth. Of rot. Of time.

There was the wax. The circle. The mark.

We did not know what it was. We just knew it was old. Older than us. Older than the house. Older than the town.

Mara touched it. Her finger was pale. She looked at me. Her eyes were wide. There was fear there. But also joy. A strange, sharp joy.

"It is beautiful," she said.

I nodded. I did not speak. I felt a pull. A tugging in my chest. It was a hook. It was a chain. I did not know what it was. But I felt it.

We kept it. We put it on the table. We looked at it every night. It changed us. Slowly. Like water on stone. We started to argue. Small things. The dishes. The light. The noise. Then bigger things. The past. The future. The silence.

I was quiet. I was always quiet. I kept my mouth shut. I kept my eyes down. I let Mara speak. I let her rage. I let her cry. I sat and watched. I was the wall. She was the wind. The wind breaks the wall. But the wall stands. Until it does not.

She said I was cold.

"I am not cold," I said.

"You are empty," she said.

"I am here," I said.

"No," she said. "You are gone. You have been gone for years."

I did not answer. I looked at the seal. The red was darker then. It pulsed. A faint rhythm. Like a heart. I felt a heat. It rose in my throat. I swallowed. It was hard.

I loved her. I loved her badly. It was a bad love. It was a hungry love. It ate me. It ate her. We were two moths. The flame was the seal. We danced around it. We burned. We did not know it was burning.

She left a note. It was on the table. Next to the seal. The paper was white. The ink was blue. The words were simple.

*I cannot do this anymore. I am tired. The house is heavy. You are heavy. I am leaving. Do not look for me. Do not come. Just be still.*

I read it. I read it again. I did not feel relief. I did not feel anger. I felt a hollowness. A pit. It was deep. I fell into it. I could not climb out.

The seal was the only thing left.

I looked at it. The crack was wider now. The wax was crumbling. I reached out. My hand shook. I touched the edge. It was brittle. It broke. A piece fell. It landed on the table. It rolled. It stopped.

I picked it up. It was small. It was dry. It had no mark. It was just wax.

I threw it in the sink.

I sat back. The chair creaked. The room was silent. The clock stopped. I blinked. I looked at the clock. It was moving. My eyes were wrong. I was tired. I was old.

I thought about the cellar. The dark. The lamp. Mara’s face. The fear. The joy. I had not understood it then. I thought it was treasure. I thought it was power. I was wrong. It was a trap. It was a loop. We were the trap.

I stood up. My legs were stiff. I walked to the window. The sky was gray. The trees were bare. The wind blew. It hit the glass. It rattled. I put my hand on the pane. It was cold. I pressed harder. I felt my reflection. My face was gray. My eyes were dark. I looked like a ghost.

I walked back to the table. The seal was there. The broken piece. The rest. It looked like a ruin. It looked like a grave.

I thought about Mara. Where is she? Is she safe? Is she happy? I do not know. I do not care. I cannot care. My heart is a stone. I dropped it. It sank.

I looked at the seal. I saw the crack. I saw the depth. It went all the way down. To the bottom. To the bedrock.

I picked up the seal. It was light. It was almost nothing. I held it in my palm. It was warm. Why was it warm? It was wax. It was cold.

I looked at my hand. The wax was sticking. It was melting. My skin was hot. I was sweating. I did not know why.

I dropped it.

It hit the table. A small sound. A click.

I stepped back. I breathed in. I breathed out. The air was thin. It was hard to get.

I remembered the first time I saw it. The cellar. The dust. The fear. I was afraid then. I am afraid now. The fear is the same. It does not change. It is the anchor. It holds us. It holds the house. It holds the life.

Mara was right. I was empty. I was a vessel. The seal was the water. It filled me. It overflowed. It spilled. It soaked the floor. It rotted the wood.

I am the floor. I am the wood. I am rotten.

I looked at the seal. The crack was gone. No, it was not gone. It was closed. The wax had fused. It was smooth. It was whole. But it was black. It was not red. It was black.

I stared at it. The black was deep. It was a hole. It looked into my eye. I looked into the hole. I saw nothing. I saw myself. I saw Mara. I saw the dark.

I picked it up again. It was cold now. It was heavy. It felt like iron. I put it in my pocket. It pressed against my leg. It was a weight. A burden.

I walked to the door. The key was in the lock. I turned it. The metal groaned. The door opened. The air rushed in. It was cold. It smelled of rain. Of soil. Of life.

I stepped out. The yard was grass. The grass was green. It was wet. I looked at the sky. The clouds were moving. They were fast. They were chasing each other.

I walked to the edge. The road was there. It was gray. It went into the hills. It went into the dark.

I stopped. I looked at the house. The windows were dark. The door was open. The seal was in my pocket. I could feel it. It was pulsing. A slow beat.

I turned away. I started to walk. My feet were heavy. The grass stuck to my shoes.

I did not look back.

I walked. The road was long. The hills were high. The air was thin.

I thought about the loop. The circle. The seal. It is a circle. It has no end. It has no start. We are in it. We are the ink. We are the wax. We are the crack.

I am walking. I am moving. But I am not going anywhere. I am in the house. I am in the cellar. I am in the dark.

Mara is gone. She is in the loop. She is in the seal. She is in the wax.

I am in the wax.

The wind blew. It was cold. It was sharp. It cut my face. I did not flinch. I was numb. I was wood. I was stone.

I walked on. The road ended. The hills began. I climbed. My legs burned. My lungs ached. I did not stop.

I reached the top. The view was wide. The town was below. The house was a speck. A black dot.

I looked at it. I felt nothing.

I looked at the seal in my pocket. I pulled it out. It was black. It was smooth. It was whole.

I threw it.

It flew. It was small. It was dark. It disappeared. It fell into the valley. It fell into the dark.

I watched it go. I watched it vanish.

I stood there. The wind blew. My hair was wet. My clothes were wet. I was shivering.

I turned around. The way back was the same. The road was gray. The grass was green.

I started to walk back.

I am going back. I must go back. The house is there. The table is there. The chair is there.

I am empty. I am full. I am the seal.

I walk. The steps are long. The steps are short. I do not count them. I just walk.

The sun was setting. The sky was orange. The light was low. It stretched long shadows.

I was a shadow. I was long. I was thin. I was fading.

I reached the yard. The grass was wet. The door was open.

I stepped in. The floor was cold. The air was still.

I walked to the table. It was empty. The seal was gone.

I sat down. The chair creaked.

I looked at the spot where the seal had been. There was a mark. A faint ring. A circle.

I touched it. My finger was cold.

I closed my eyes.

I am here. I am alone.

The clock ticked.

It was loud.

It was heavy.

It was mine.