The morning air clung to the halls like mist, cold, quiet, and too still to feel alive.
No one had come for me.No knock at the door. No cruel maid. No orders barked through the crack in the wood.
For once, the silence felt like permission.
I stepped into the corridor with bare feet and a cautious heart, unsure where I was going, only that I couldn't stay still.
The mansion stretched before me like a gilded labyrinth, arched ceilings, columns veined with gold, chandeliers high above that dripped crystal like teardrops. Portraits lined the walls. Oil paintings in ornate frames, all stiff-backed nobles with cold eyes and sharper collars. Not one face I recognized.The deeper I walked, the more the air changed. Warmer here. Older. Like the stone remembered more than it should.
It was then that I saw it.
A pair of tall oak doors, half-open. Bookshelves beyond, stretching into shadow.
A library.
Not just a room, but a cathedral of knowledge.
And maybe, if I was lucky, a place to finally understand where I was.
The doors groaned as I pushed them open.
Dust danced in the beams of light that spilled through stained-glass windows, soft reds and golds filtering across shelves like spilled wine. Books lined the walls from floor to ceiling. Some stacked high on ladders. Others tucked into corners like forgotten secrets.
I walked slowly.
The air smelled of paper, old wood, and something faintly herbal, maybe lavender, long faded.
There was no one else here.
No servants to glare. No voices to chase me out.
Just silence, and shelves, and endless names.
I ran my fingers along the spine of one volume. A Study of the Five Great Houses. I pulled it free and opened it gently.
The script was fine, curling like ivy. The ink dark and deliberate.
House Viremont - One of the founding pillars of the Valerian Empire, once stewards of the western mountain ranges, now Dukes of Northvale. Known for military brilliance, political ruthlessness, and absolute control of bloodlines. Deviations or illegitimacies are rarely acknowledged, and never forgiven.
I blinked. Read it again.
So that was my cage.
I kept flipping through pages, books of noble titles, family rankings, strange customs, and records of historical trials.
One page caught my eye.
Year 1342, Valerian Era.
That's when I paused.
Because the year I had died was 2025.
And this world wasn't a chapter behind, it was an entirely different book.
I turned to another shelf, this one older, books with cracked leather spines and gilded titles dulled by time.
The Structure of Nobility.
Customs of the Court.
Lineage and Inheritance.
Each title chipped away at the fog in my mind.
Every family had a place. A title. A duty.
And those born outside the structure those like her were expected to know their place and remain in it.
The nobles here married for power, not love. Daughters were traded for alliances. Sons were raised like soldiers, taught to speak with blades instead of emotion.
Legitimacy wasn't just status. It was law.
To be illegitimate was to be invisible. Or worse, expendable.
I didn't need memories to understand why Aurenne had been erased.
One book had no title at all , just a deep red cover, frayed at the edges. Inside, it held a collection of letters and court etiquette rules.
"A daughter should never raise her voice in the presence of her father."
"Those of uncertain blood must be presented with humility or not at all."
"Never sit at the center of a table you were not born to."
Each line settled like ice in my spine.I closed the book gently, setting it back as if it could burn me.
This world wasn't kind.
It was built like a performance, and Aurenne had been cast in the role of a mistake.
I looked around the room once more.So many words. So many rules. And not a single one written for someone like me. But I was here now.
I scanned the shelves one last time.
Most of the books were heavy tomes, too large to carry without drawing attention. But one stood out slim, worn, its spine barely holding together.
Household Laws and Inheritance Lines: A Private Record.
The kind of book someone wouldn't want publicly read.I tucked it under my arm, pressing it close to my side like a secret.Just as I turned to leave, I heard it.
Footsteps.
Soft. Slow. Purposeful.
Not a servant's shuffle.
Someone important.
I ducked between two shelves, heart beating faster now. The dust stirred as I shifted, crouching low behind a tall stack of military history texts. Through the gap in the wood, I saw a glimpse of deep crimson velvet, a noble's coat.
Then a voice, low and amused.
"Curious thing... I didn't think she could read."
Calyx.
He lingered by the doorway, one hand gliding along the frame like he owned the walls. Which, in a way, he did.
He didn't step inside, just stood there, as if waiting for someone, or testing the air for movement.
My breath caught.
He tilted his head slightly.
Then, after a long pause, he turned and walked away.
The doors groaned shut behind him.
I didn't move for a while. Just sat there, curled against the shelves, fingers clenched too tightly around the book. Eventually, when I was sure I was alone again, I rose slow, careful, quiet. And I left the library with the book hidden beneath my clothes, my mind spinning faster than it had since waking.
The halls felt longer on the way back.
Every distant voice, every brush of wind against the curtains made me flinch, like Calyx's footsteps were still echoing behind me.
But no one followed.
No one noticed.
By the time I reached my room, the book was damp with the heat of my skin, hidden beneath the folds of my borrowed linen.I closed the door softly behind me, locking it this time.
The lock clicked like a sigh.
Then I sat cross-legged on the bed and pulled the book free, holding it in both hands like it might fall apart if I breathed too hard.
Household Laws and Inheritance Lines.
The cover was plain, unadorned, as if it didn't want to be remembered.
I opened to the first page.
Most of it was records, bloodlines, births, deaths, arranged marriages. Legalities of heirs. Wills rewritten and signatures smudged with age. But halfway through, the ink changed.
Faded brown. Angrier handwriting.
"In the case of a child born outside noble wedlock, the inheritance may be denied without formal declaration, if said child poses a threat to reputation or alliance. This decision is left to the discretion of the Head of House and requires no official record."
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
So they could erase someone like Aurenne , legally, silently and no one outside the estate would ever question it. She wasn't just forgotten.
She was meant to disappear.
I sat back against the wall, the book still open on my lap. No one would come to save me here.
Not from the cold. Not from the silence. Not from them.
Then my eyes caught a faint scribble in the margin, barely visible beneath faded ink:
"Some truths are better buried, but they have a way of clawing back to the surface."
No signature. No date. Just those words, hurried and urgent.
I traced the letters slowly, the meaning stirring something uneasy inside me.
Was this a warning? A confession? Or a plea from someone trapped long ago?
The room felt colder, the silence heavier.
I closed the book carefully, pressing it to my chest.
The weight of those words settled deep inside me.
I was almost eighteen, just months away from the day they expected me to step fully into their world.
But what kind of world was this, where secrets suffocated like chains?
I set the book aside, my thoughts swirling faster than the dust motes in the fading light.