The night sky painted a scene of silence, a spread of stars that looked so peaceful. But in Margarett Londy Yapharec's heart, peace was merely a shadow long lost. She walked slowly through the corridors of the old castle garden, each step seemingly pulling her deeper into an abyss. In her hand, she clutched a small spellbook—a symbol of her unwavering resolve.
But she was not alone.
A few steps behind her, Gelle Simanuk stood, leaning his strong frame against one of the garden's pillars. His sharp gaze followed Margarett's figure, filled with suspicion. Something had been unsettling him for days—something he couldn't ignore. A scent. A faint, lethal scent, almost imperceptible but unmistakable—the trace of forbidden magic.
Gelle frowned, his thoughts racing. He was never one to jump to conclusions, yet the fact that the hero had mysteriously vanished made everything feel wrong. And Margarett… Margarett seemed too calm for someone under the public's scorn. He wanted to know—no, he had to know.
Margarett stopped beneath a large tree, gazing at the dimly glowing moon. She knew her time in hiding was running out. After using forbidden magic, its lingering scent would undoubtedly attract attention. But she hadn't expected Gelle to be the first to notice.
"Margarett," Gelle's voice came low, an echo carried by the night wind. A shiver ran down Margarett's spine, but she didn't turn around. "You know something's wrong, don't you?"
She bit her lip. Speaking now would only complicate things. Instead, she chose to step forward, maintaining her composure. But Gelle wasn't one to give up so easily. With steady strides, he followed, closing the distance between them.
"Wait," Gelle called. "I can smell it, Margarett. Something you can't hide from me."
Margarett quickened her pace, anxiety creeping into her bones. She knew Gelle wasn't easily deceived. With his unwavering strength, he could become her greatest obstacle. But no, it wasn't time to be caught. Not yet.
Without warning, Gelle lunged forward, attempting to seize her in a swift motion. Margarett, who had appeared composed moments ago, suddenly darted away with surprising speed. Her frail body shouldn't have been capable of such agility, yet she had prepared for this very moment.
The once-quiet garden turned into an intense chase. Gelle pursued her relentlessly, his steps like thunder shaking the ground. Meanwhile, Margarett dashed through the garden's dark corners, weaving between shadows in an attempt to erase her trail. Every movement felt like a tug-of-war between life and death, and the scent of magic hanging in the air only sharpened Gelle's resolve.
But just as he was about to reach her, another figure emerged from the darkness.
"That's enough."
A soft yet firm voice rang through the air.
It was Gyo Kanokari, his cold gaze locking onto Gelle. His slender yet poised figure stood between Gelle and Margarett.
"Stay out of this, Gyo," Gelle warned, his voice low and edged with frustration. "I know she's hiding something. I can smell it."
Gyo took a step forward, meeting Gelle's glare without flinching. "Whatever you think you know, this isn't your concern," he said, his tone calm but cutting. "If you keep chasing her, you'll have to deal with me first."
Behind Gyo, Margarett felt an indescribable relief. She knew the situation was far from safe, but Gyo's presence gave her a chance to escape. Without a sound, she stepped backward, leaving Gyo to face Gelle. And in an instant, she disappeared into the night, carrying her secrets with her.
Gelle exhaled sharply, clenching his fists. "This isn't over," he muttered before turning away, leaving Gyo alone in the garden.
Margarett ran through the dark alleys behind the castle gardens, her feet barely making a sound on the cobblestone paths. Her breath came quickly yet remained controlled, her eyes darting around for the safest escape route. Darkness was her ally, but the tension in her chest made every second feel endless.
Meanwhile, Gyo Kanokari stood firm where he had confronted Gelle. Though his posture seemed relaxed, his presence exuded an unspoken warning. Gyo had always been an enigma. Unlike other noble heirs, he rarely displayed his emotions outright. Yet deep within, he harbored a quiet kindness reserved for Margarett alone.
Gelle narrowed his eyes at him, his jaw tightening. "You're protecting her, aren't you?" His words sounded more like an accusation than a question. "You know something is wrong, Gyo. You can feel it too."
Gyo didn't respond immediately. He let out a slow breath, glancing toward the direction where Margarett had disappeared.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Gelle," he finally said, his voice low and composed. "What I do know is that you should stop hunting someone who's innocent."
Gelle scoffed, his hands clenching at his sides. "Innocent? Do you take me for a fool? Margarett may look fragile, but she's hiding something." He stepped closer, his tone hardening. "If you're protecting her, then you're just as guilty as she is."
But before Gelle could take another step, Gyo raised a hand—an unassuming gesture, yet one that made Gelle hesitate.
"You're too fixated on Margarett to see the bigger picture," Gyo said coolly. "Have you forgotten the more pressing question? What really happened to our hero? Maybe you should start looking for your answers elsewhere."
Gelle fell silent, his suspicion unwavering. But after a long pause, he finally stepped back, albeit reluctantly.
"This isn't over," he repeated before vanishing into the darkness.
Margarett, meanwhile, continued her escape, slipping through hidden doors and secret corridors known only to her. Though her frail body ached from exhaustion, she refused to stop. In her mind, the image of Gelle nearly capturing her lingered like a haunting specter.
Yet beneath her fear, there was something else.
A small warmth nestled deep within her heart.
Gyo.
She didn't know why he had chosen to help her, but she was grateful.
"I owe him," Margarett thought, clutching the small spellbook tightly in her hands. "But I won't drag him further into this."
Finally, she arrived at a concealed chamber deep beneath the castle. Its walls were covered in withered vines, and the only light came from a dimly flickering lantern. She sank onto the cold stone floor, inhaling deeply to calm herself.
"I won't fail," she whispered to herself.
Her trembling hands flipped open the spellbook.
Now, more than ever, Margarett knew—time was not on her side.