The heavy door shut with a cold thud, muffling the child's screams. Seraphyne cried louder, beating her small fists against the closed door.
"Mother, I-I can't do this," Seraphyne's mother turned back, guilt eating away at her, about to run to her daughter but her mother stopped her and slapped her on the face.
"Get back to your senses! We are where we are because the people find us useful. What do you think will happen if we are no longer useful? They'll bury us or get us killed." The old woman's voice was sharp, her eyes glinting with cold resolve.
Tears ran down her face. She couldn't believe she was sacrificing her daughter's freedom and happiness for the prosperity of the town and the pride of their bloodline.
The old woman sighed deeply.
"This is what's best for her. She's not only a guardian," she said grimly, "she's a demon child. We don't know when her demon side will awaken."
As they stepped out of the tunnel, the old woman raised her hand and murmured an incantation. The vines spread longer and covered the entrance.
Suddenly, Prince Caleb sprinted towards them, his eyes wide in horror.
"What are you doing sealing a child inside?!" he shouted, reaching for the old woman's arm.
But he passed straight through her.
He shouted at them but nothing happened. The people started to go back to town when the old woman stopped on her tracks and looked back at Prince Caleb. She stared at him intently.
"You don't belong here. Go back." she said and snapped her fingers.
Caleb gasped as he awoke, his chest heaving, drenched in sweat as though he'd clawed his way out of a nightmare.
A knock echoed from the door.
"Your Highness? Are you awake?" came the voice of the Grandchamberlain.
"Yes. Come in," Caleb replied, trying to steady his breath.
The Grandchamberlain entered and bowed to him.
"The Empress summons you at the council chamber. Your presence is needed in regards to the succession," the Grandchamberlain said.
"I understand"
Prince Caleb prepared and entered the council chamber where the Empress and the council members are gathered.
"We are assembled to address the Emperor's will," the Empress declared, placing the imperial seal on the table. "According to its second condition, the one that holds the seal will be the next emperor and that is the Crown Prince."
A council member raised his hand. "I do not see the Imperial Executer present today."
The Empress's expression darkened. "After the Emperor's funeral, I presented the seal to the Executer. He verified it and left to begin preparations. Shortly after... he was poisoned and now he is in a coma."
"Who poisoned the Executer?"
"Then what do we now? We can't have a new emperor until the Executer fascilitates the succession."
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the chamber.
The Empress raised her hand to silence them.
"There is only one person who seeks to disrupt the succession. We believe it was one of the Marquess' men. A ploy to steal the seal and delay the Crown Prince's ascension," said Duke Vane gravely.
"The Executer's life is no longer in danger. However, we do not know when he'll wake up." The Empress remained poised, "According to the law, when something happens to an Imperial Executer, another Executer will replace him. If the Imperial Executer's condition doesn't change in a month, then we'll have to ask one of the elders."
Heads nodded around the table.
"Until then," said Marquess Viremond, glancing at Caleb, "the Crown Prince should carry out imperial duties in preparation."
"I agree," said another.
The Empress nodded. "Until the coronation is complete, I will safeguard the seal personally to prevent further attempts."
As the meeting concluded and Caleb exited the chamber, a royal messenger approached with haste.
"A letter for His Highness."
Caleb took it, recognizing the wax seal instantly. It's House Labelle.
With a sudden urgency, he tore it open. His hands trembled slightly as he read the contents.
Cecilia has woken up.
Without hesitation, Caleb rushed to the stables, mounted his horse, and rode hard toward House Labelle.
Elery found herself staring at the mirror.
But it wasn't her reflection staring back.
The girl in the mirror looked younger, around eighteen with short, wavy red hair and vivid blue eyes. She wore a simple dress and stood inside a chamber with soft golden light where the walls were etched with roots.
"Nysarra"
She turned toward the voice instinctively, as if the name belonged to her. Standing there was the same woman she had seen before, white hair, red eyes but this time, the air around her was tense. She looked worn, her expression anxious.
"Is this enough?" the woman asked, hurriedly stuffing her belongings into a small luggage bag.
"You shouldn't take too much," Elery replied automatically, her voice not her own. Her body moved independently, her tone calm but firm. "It'll only slow you down."
Nysarra picked up a goblet and a knife from the table.
"Will this really work?" the woman asked again, her voice laced with doubt.
"I'm not sure. I only read about it in grandmother's forbidden grimoire. It's a dangerous magic. Are you sure you want to do this, Seraphyne? You can still change your mind."
Seraphyne stepped forward and embraced her tightly.
"Yes and thank you. I still can't believe you're willing to sacrifice your life for my happiness."
A pang of guilt and hesitation surfaced in Nysarra's chest. But she pushed it aside and gently squeezed her sister's hand.
"You'll finally be with the one you love beyond the hill."
Outside the door, the sound of steel clashing and soldiers shouting grew louder.
"We have to start before the knights arrive," Nysarra said, retrieving a folded paper hidden in her dress. "Just follow these instructions. I'll handle the incantation."
Seraphyne nodded.
Nysarra placed a tall, two-way mirror in the center of the room. They lit candles on either side and stood opposite each other, gazing into one another's eyes. Seraphyne took the knife and cut into her left hand, allowing blood to drip into the goblet. Nysarra did the same.
They both took a sip.
Seraphyne followed the diagram on the parchment. She drew a vertical line of blood down the mirror, then circled it with a ring of thorns. Nysarra repeated the pattern on the other side, then smeared blood across Seraphyne's face. She turned and did the same to herself.
She began the incantation.
Zereth'kai morreth lun,
Velar nosh tal'dur ven
In'drath vul serrakai,
Vulatarae, vultarae, mask shall lie.
The sigil on the mirror glowed and vanished.
"Did it work?" Seraphyne asked.
A pause.
Then burning pain erupted across their faces. Both girls screamed and collapsed, clutching their skin. Their magic were drained and their bodies became weak.
When the pain finally faded, Seraphyne sat up and stared at the mirror.
"W-why is my face…?"
She turned to Nysarra in horror.
Seraphyne now had short red hair and blue eyes.
Nysarra's reflection bore white hair and red eyes.
They had swapped appearances.
"It worked," Nysarra whispered, astonished.
"W-why did our appearances change? Wasn't this supposed to transfer my power? Did we make a mistake?"
Nysarra stood, touching her new face. A smile slowly spread across her lips.
"I am now His Highness's lover," Nysarra thought.
"There was no mistake." Nysarra said. Her tone had turned sharp and distant.
"W-what?"
"The ritual was to swap our faces. That's all."
"Why? Why would you do this?" Seraphyne's voice trembled with hurt and betrayal.
"All my life, you had everything. They treated you like a goddess because of your power. Even His Highness loves you." Nysarra's voice shook with resentment. "I tried everything to make him look at me, but he never did. Because of you."
"You know my powers made me a prisoner! You saw what they did to me!"
"Even your prison was a palace," Nysarra snapped. "I only wanted one thing. And the only way he'd love me... was if I became you."
Seraphyne tried to reach for her, grabbing the hem of Nysarra's dress.
"P-please... Nysarra... don't do this."
Nysarra pulled her hand away. "If there were another way, I would've taken it."
She stepped out. Seraphyne's cries followed her as the door shut behind.
She tried to summon her magic but the ritual had drained her. Nothing came. Only the echo of Nysarra's words:
"You won't be able to use magic for a few hours. Just stay there. Grandmother will find you."
But just as she exited the tunnel, a group of knights blocked her path, swords and torches drawn.
"There she is! The Guardian of the Tree! Seize her!"
"Wait-I'm not-!" Nysarra tried to explain, but they ignored her.
They shackled her with enchanted cuffs embedded with red gems.
Then- thud.
A knight behind them collapsed. A sword piercing through his chest.
The others turned and saw a familiar figure, blade in hand, eyes burning like a storm.
"Your Highness!" the knights shouted in disbelief.
His black hair clung to his face, and his ice-blue eyes gleamed with fury.
"Let her go," he ordered.
The knights flinched but still stood on their ground.
"I'm sorry but we can't do that. It is the king's order. We have to bring her to the capital," the knight commander said.
"Then you all have to die here."
The prince attacked. The prince struck down knight after knight.
Seraphyne's voice echoed faintly from within the tunnel. "Your Highness! Are you there? Please, help me!"
Nysarra heard her sister's voice and panicked. She grabbed a torch and threw it at the dry vines causing a fire to block the path.
After the final knight fell, the prince rushed to her side and broke her chains.
"Are you alright?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her.
"Let's go. The fire's spreading."
Nysarra nodded silently as he carried her out of the tunnel.
She looked back one last time. Her heart cracked, but she forced herself not to break.
"I'm sorry, Seraphyne."
"Elery! Lady Elery!"
She jolted awake to find Greta shaking her gently.
"You were crying in your sleep, so I had to wake you," she said with concern.
Elery touched her cheek. It was wet with tears.
"I didn't realize I fell asleep in class…"
Elery sat up and looked around. The class was beginning to settle.
"It seems THAT person will be attending this class."
"What?! What is the Headmaster thinking letting them in?"
Chatter buzzed around them.
Elery blinked, confused. "What are they talking about?"
"Rumors, my lady," Greta whispered. "They say the Marquess murdered the Emperor of Vestur."
"What?! The Emperor is dead?!"
Before she could ask more, silence fell.
Three young men entered.
One of them scanned the room, then brightened when his gaze landed on her.
"Ah! It's you! The lady on the stairs," he said, pointing directly at Elery.
The class turned to stare at her.
"Does she know Lord Edric?" someone whispered.
"Who is he?" Elery thought.
"I didn't expect you to arrive this quickly, Your Imperial Highness," Duke Labelle said, bowing in respect as Prince Caleb stepped into the manor.
"I couldn't wait another second to see my betrothed," Prince Caleb replied, his tone firm yet eager as they made their way to Lady Cecilia's room.
"How is she?" he asked, trying not to show the tension in his voice.
"The healers are attending to her now," Duke Labelle replied.
"Physically, she's stable, but..." He hesitated.
"But?" Caleb prompted, his steps slowing.
"It's better if you see it for yourself," the Duke said, stopping before a large oak door.
He opened it gently.
Several healers stood gathered around the bed, murmuring among themselves.
"Make way for the Crown Prince," Duke Labelle announced.
The healers parted respectfully, allowing Caleb through.
Caleb stepped forward but stopped mid-stride.
There she was, sitting on her bed, her face pale but peaceful.
But her eyes. They were red.
For a moment, he thought it was the young girl named Seraphyne in his dream. It was as if she was the one in front of him.
"What happened to her?" he asked the healers.
One of the healers stepped forward. "We are still unsure, Your Imperial Highness. This is the first time we've seen such a case. Her eye color changed but that's not all. Her mana levels are unlike anything we've ever seen."
"What do you mean?" Caleb asked sharply.
"She possesses an enormous amount of mana now. It's as if her entire constitution transformed."
"That isn't exactly a problem," Caleb said. "If anything, it's a blessing."
"With all due respect, Your Imperial Highness," Duke Labelle interjected, "my daughter has never had mana. Not even a trace."
"That's impossible," Caleb said, frowning. "Every living being is born with mana. Some barely noticeable, but it's always present."
"I thought the same," the Duke said. "When Cecilia was a child, she grew terribly ill. No healer could ease her suffering. In desperation, I sought help from the Empress. She sent the palace's Head Mage. He was the one who told me that there was no mana in her body at all. That's why her system couldn't fight even a simple flu."
"I suggest we bring her to the capital," one healer finally said. "Let the Head Mage examine her again."
Caleb turned to the Duke. "Would that be alright with you? For her to stay at the palace?"
The Duke's expression softened. "It would be an honor to receive your help, Your Highness. I will leave her in your care."
Caleb stepped closer to the bed and gently sat on its edge. He reached for Cecilia's hand, warm and soft in his own.
He smiled, his voice low and affectionate. "How are you feeling?"
Lady Cecilia, who had been staring out the window with an unreadable expression, slowly turned her head toward him. Her red eyes met his blue ones. She looked at him for a long, uncertain moment.
Then she spoke.
"Who are you?"