The days all felt the same.
No one talked to Aria. No one told her what to do. She stayed in her room, ate the food left at her door, and walked the cold halls. Even the silence had started to feel heavy, like a blanket she could not take off.
It was as if she had been dropped into a cold, quiet world and forgotten.
The silence became too much. She needed something to do. Anything.
So she decided to go back to the library.
She knew Neris did not want her there. The woman had warned her before. But Aria did not care anymore. She was tired of waiting. Tired of staring at the walls.
She pushed the door open slowly. The same cold air touched her skin. The room was still a mess. Books were scattered on the floor, dust lay on every surface, and cobwebs hung like curtains.
She looked around and sighed.
Then she went to the corner, picked up a chair that had fallen over, and set it upright.
She was not sure why she did it. She just knew she could not sit in that cold, broken castle doing nothing. Maybe the mess bothered her. Maybe the books looked sad lying on the ground. Or maybe she just missed the feeling of doing something with her hands.
She moved slowly at first. She picked up books, stacked them neatly, and wiped dust off the table with the edge of her shawl. She did not know where everything belonged, but it did not matter. She just wanted to make it better.
She even found a broom near the doorway and started to sweep the floor.
She was so focused that she did not hear the door open.
"You are not a maid."
Aria turned.
Neris stood just inside the room, arms crossed, eyes sharp as always.
Aria straightened. "I know."
"Then why are you sweeping?" she asked. "I told you not to come back here."
"I just needed something to do," Aria said. "I am not trying to break rules. I am just… bored."
Neris raised an eyebrow.
"I needed to feel like myself again," Aria added, quieter now. "Like a person."
Neris did not speak for a long moment.
Then she sighed. It sounded tired.
"If you are going to waste time," she said, "do not ruin anything. These books are older than your whole kingdom."
She walked to a dusty shelf, picked up an old candle, and lit it. The little flame cast a soft, flickering light on the table.
Neris set it down beside Aria.
"This room is older than you are. You will need help cleaning it properly," she said.
Aria looked down at the broom in her hand. "I do not mind the work."
Neris gave a small grunt. "That is not the point."
She walked further into the room, her eyes moving over the shelves like she was counting ghosts. Her fingers brushed one of the sagging bookcases.
"Some of these are near falling," she muttered. "You pull one too hard, you will bring the whole wall down."
Aria watched her carefully. "Then show me how to do it right."
That made Neris stop.
She turned, her gray eyes steady. "Why?"
"Because I want to help," Aria said. "And because sitting alone in that room makes me feel like I am fading."
Neris was quiet for a moment.
Then, almost too softly to hear, she said, "So you would rather drown in dust."
Aria blinked. "Better than drowning in silence."
That made Neris exhale sharply. Whether it was a laugh or a sigh, Aria could not tell. But she turned again and waved a hand behind her.
"There is a ladder down the hall, near the ruined painting. Bring it in. And gloves if you find them. You will need both."
"You are helping me?" Aria asked, surprised.
"No," Neris said flatly, already walking toward the door. "I am helping the books."
She disappeared around the corner.
Aria set the broom aside and walked slowly down the cold hall. The torches burned low as she reached the ruined painting at the far end of the corridor. There, leaning against the wall like a forgotten memory, stood a rickety wooden ladder.
She lifted it carefully and carried it back to the library. Near the books and piled papers, she found a pair of old gloves in a dusty drawer. They were stiff, but they would do.
Back in the library, Aria set the ladder against one of the tall shelves that sagged under the weight of old books. She placed the gloves on her hands and began to dust off the corners of the shelf. Every brush of her hand sent small clouds of dust into the air, and in the soft light, the particles danced like tiny stars.
As she worked, her mind wandered. The silence of the room was broken only by the sound of her breathing and the soft rustle of pages turning. She wondered what stories these books held. Some were histories of distant lands. Others were poetry filled with sorrow and hope. One or two looked like they might even hold a secret.
The act of cleaning made her feel closer to the past. With every wiped shelf and carefully placed volume, it was as if she was trying to bring life back to this forgotten place. The effort was small, and yet it filled the quiet with a purpose. A small act of rebellion against the loneliness of the castle.
Soon, a soft light from a window showed her progress. The pages of a battered book shone in a sliver of sunlight. Aria paused to open it. The book was old and fragile. With gentle care, she turned the pages. Written in fading ink were lines of poetry and forgotten names. A story of a time when this place had been filled with laughter and music.
Aria smiled at the thought of it. Even if the castle was silent now, maybe, just maybe, she could help bring a little of that life back.
Without realizing it, she had been cleaning for hours. The work was tiring, yet it left a warm glow inside her chest. For a brief moment, the heaviness of the castle seemed to lift, replaced by the soft promise of something new.