(Freya's POV)
The castle walls rose like mountains of shadow and stone.
Freya had seen it from afar once, years ago, but being this close—walking through its towering gates and echoing halls—was something else entirely. Cold. Distant. Grand in the kind of way that made you feel very small.
The guards flanked her but didn't touch her. Kael walked ahead, talking quietly with someone who looked like a nobleman with more pride than sense.
She didn't bother catching their words.
Her mind was elsewhere. Sharp. Watching. Waiting.
They led her through a side corridor—not through the throne hall, but somewhere quieter, meant for… discussions. Her boots made soft clicks against the polished floor. She didn't fidget. Didn't speak.
Let them start first.
She wasn't here to explain her existence.
In a private chamber, she stood alone with Kael, a few nobles, and a stern woman who introduced herself as Lady Mirela—one of the council heads. Sharp eyes, sharp tongue, already judging.
"You were found near Windholt," Mirela said, arms folded. "That village has had… disturbances."
"I lived there," Freya replied simply.
"Convenient."
Freya tilted her head slightly. "Is it?"
"You've been accused of practicing dark magic."
"I've been accused of being a ghost too. Does that count?"
Kael bit back a smile from where he stood, but Lady Mirela frowned deeper.
"Your presence stirred something unnatural. The council senses a… pressure. What are you?"
Freya's eyes didn't flinch. "Tired. Slightly annoyed. And hungry."
The room went tense.
Kael cleared his throat. "She's not resisting. Let's not escalate."
"I've done nothing wrong," Freya added calmly, her voice sharper this time. "Unless silence and survival is a crime now."
Mirela looked ready to speak again when the side door opened—and everything shifted.
He stepped in like a shadow.
Tall. Dark-haired. Wearing black and deep red like it was stitched to his blood. Crown Prince Sebastian. He didn't speak at first. Just walked in and stopped when he saw her.
For a moment, Freya thought the air shifted.
His eyes narrowed—studying, not just looking.
Not at her clothes.
Not at her face.
At her.
Something flickered in him. A memory? A curse? A warning?
Freya felt it too.
A pulse in her chest. A whisper in her bones.
"She who stands in fire and doesn't burn will either free you… or end you."
That was what the dying witch had told him. The last words before her bones turned to ash by his sword.
And now, this girl stood before him.
Still.
Silent.
Dangerously calm.
"Who are you?" he asked, his voice low.
Freya met his gaze evenly. "You called me here. You tell me."
That answer.
That voice.
It struck something he couldn't name.
Sebastian didn't say another word. He looked at Kael, nodded once, then left. Just like that.
No threats. No command.
Freya blinked. That was it?
Kael looked… amused. "Well, you've made an impression."
"Good. Now can I go?"
Lady Mirela, clearly unsettled, waved a hand. "She can leave. For now."
---
(Elara's POV)
From the open hallway above, Elara watched everything.
She had begged Kael to let her see the strange girl, and though she wasn't supposed to be there, she couldn't help it.
The girl was... strange.
And beautiful.
And strong in a way Elara recognized but couldn't explain.
"She's different," Elara whispered, her hand pressed to the railing.
"She's dangerous," her maid whispered behind her.
Elara didn't believe that. Not yet.
Besides, anyone who could make her brother actually pause was worth paying attention to.