The dining hall looked like something from a gothic fairytale. Long, cathedral-like windows stretched from floor to ceiling, casting silver moonlight over the dark wood table that extended farther than necessary for just two people. Crystal chandeliers hung like frozen rainclouds, glittering faintly.
Candles flickered within heavy brass holders, their light soft but eerie, dancing against the crimson and black walls. Everything smelled faintly of roses and something darker beneath it. Elowen sat stiffly at the far end of the table, her hands resting on her lap, trying not to tremble.
Caelum sat at the head, cutting through his steak with slow, deliberate precision. He hadn't taken his eyes off her since they entered the room. Every glance, every word, every breath of his seemed calculated like he was watching for signs. For weakness. Or for memory.
"You haven't touched your food." His voice was quiet but carried across the silence like silk drawn over a blade.
Elowen forced a tiny smile. "I'm not very hungry. Still disoriented, I guess."
Caelum leaned back in his seat, folding his hands together. His eyes dark as ink never left her. "You used to love lamb. Especially with rosemary. Are you sure you don't remember?"
She hesitated, then shook her head gently. "No I'm sorry."
His jaw tightened. Not in anger in something closer to ache. And for a terrifying second, Elowen saw it. Beneath his obsession, Caelum mourned something. Someone. Someone she might have been.
"You fell from the horse near the ravine last week," he said, voice low.
"The doctors said it was a miracle you survived. You didn't even scream when you hit the rocks. Just silence. And then everything stopped."
Elowen swallowed hard. She didn't remember any of that because it wasn't her memory. But whoever she had replaced in this world had nearly died.
"You stayed by my side?" she asked, trying to play along.
"I haven't slept since." His answer was immediate, like a confession wrapped in thorns. "I couldn't bear to leave you. Not again."
She stared at her lap. "Again…?"
Caelum didn't answer. His silence said enough. There was a storm in him. A story. And she was at the center of it.
As the meal continued in near-silence, Elowen's mind ran wild with questions.
Who had she replaced?
Why did Caelum look at her like she was the world he had once lost?
Was this a twisted fate or something written long before she opened the book?
She needed answers. And she needed to survive long enough to find them.
After dinner, Caelum led her through the west wing. The halls grew darker as they moved deeper into the estate, the stone beneath their feet colder, more worn. Elowen tried not to shiver as portraits watched her from the walls some painted in shadow, some with eyes too lifelike. She stayed close to Caelum, half out of fear, half because she had no idea where she was.
"I'll show you something," he said quietly.
They stopped before a locked door. He drew a key from his coat pocket not gold, not silver, but black and turned it slowly in the keyhole. Beyond the door lay a room unlike the others. Books lined the shelves from floor to ceiling. The windows were blocked by deep velvet curtains. In the center stood a grand piano, draped with a silk cloth. And behind it the painting.
Elowen froze.
It was her.
Not her exactly, but a girl who looked exactly like her down to the shape of her mouth, the softness of her gaze, the tilt of her chin. She wore a flowing white gown and stood among black roses. Her eyes were closed, and her hands held a letter.
"That was painted two years ago," Caelum said, stepping beside her. "The day she disappeared."
Elowen's throat closed.
"She disappeared?"
He nodded. "Her name was Evangeline. She vanished from this very estate. No note. No trace. Nothing."
Her mind reeled. Was that who she had replaced?
"You loved her?" Elowen asked softly.
Caelum turned to her, his voice barely more than a breath. "I still do."
His gaze bore into her then, slow and searing. "And yet here you are. With her face. Her voice. Her smile."
Elowen took a shaky step back. "I don't know how or why I'm here. I swear"
Caelum didn't move. But his voice turned darker, like velvet dipped in wine. "Fate doesn't make mistakes, Elowen. It tears apart time to fix them."
She couldn't breathe.
"You think I'm her?"
"I don't know what you are," he whispered, stepping closer, until they were inches apart.
"But I'm not letting you go again. Not until I'm certain."
A hand reached up to brush a strand of hair from her face. Elowen stood frozen, every nerve in her body alight.
"I will protect you," he said softly. "Even from yourself."
That night, Elowen couldn't sleep. She lay in the vast bed, staring at the canopy above, heart pounding with questions. The moon outside cast long shadows across the floor. Somewhere in the distance, a music box played a haunting lullaby.
She rose and padded quietly to the window. Through the glass, she saw the garden wild and overgrown, with black roses blooming under the moonlight. Somewhere down there, the past waited. Hidden secrets. Forgotten love. Twisted fate. And somewhere inside this house, Caelum waited too.
Watching. Waiting. Remembering a girl she was never meant to be. But if fate had chosen her to rewrite this story to fix the ending then she would do it. Even if it meant falling for the villain.