It was too quiet.
Not the kind of quiet that felt peaceful, like the gentle hush of early morning when the birds were just waking up. No, this silence was heavier. Like the air itself was holding its breath, waiting for something dreadful to happen. Elara's heart thudded hard in her chest, loud enough that she could swear the walls themselves heard it.
She stood barefoot on the cold stone floor of the castle corridor, the chill creeping through her toes and up her legs. The torches flickered weakly along the walls, casting uneven shadows that danced like restless ghosts. A cold draft whispered past her, sneaking through cracks in the heavy wooden doors, making her shiver.
She should've stayed in bed.
She should've told herself it was just her imagination.
But something pulled her forward—a knot of unease tightening in her gut.
Ahead, behind the council chamber doors, she heard voices. Quiet, but unmistakable. One was sharp and steady—the voice of Calren, her husband. The other softer but with an edge—Kaelin, her best friend. The friend who had stood beside her through childhood, who had shared laughter and tears, secrets and dreams.
Elara's breath caught. The voices were low, urgent, filled with a cold purpose.
She edged closer, careful not to make a sound.
"...she's starting to suspect," Calren said. His words were harsh, like a blade scraping stone.
"We can't wait any longer," Kaelin replied, her voice tense but resolute.
Elara froze. Suspicion? Wait any longer? The cold in her chest tightened, squeezing like icy fingers around her heart.
What were they talking about?
Her mind raced for reasons — maybe it was about some political scheme, some dangerous secret she didn't know. Maybe it wasn't about her at all. But deep down, she knew the truth. She could feel it.
"She wasn't supposed to get this far," Calren said quietly but fiercely.
Kaelin's voice dropped to a whisper. "I told you from the start... she's not a fool."
Elara's knees threatened to give way. She gripped the doorframe, her fingers trembling.
"Then we end it," Calren said flatly. "Tonight."
A sharp noise — a stone shifting beneath her foot — broke the silence like a gunshot.
"Elara?" Calren's voice suddenly cut through the corridor.
Panic surged through her. She tried to pull back, but the door swung open and strong hands grabbed her. Cold and ruthless. Hands she once trusted without question.
She stumbled forward, caught between the two people she loved most.
Calren's eyes were hard, devoid of the warmth she remembered.
Kaelin's face was calm, almost too calm.
"How long?" Elara's voice cracked. "How long have you been planning this?"
Kaelin's eyes lowered, unable to meet hers.
Calren's lips pressed thin. "Long enough."
Elara swallowed down the rising bile of betrayal.
"This isn't real," she whispered. "This is a nightmare. You're lying."
Kaelin shook her head slowly. "I wish I were. I begged him to wait... to find another way."
"You begged?" Elara's voice rose in disbelief. "You knew all along?"
"I didn't want this," Kaelin said softly. "I never wanted it to end like this."
Elara's hands clenched into fists. "But you let it happen."
Silence.
Then Calren stepped forward, voice cold as steel. "You were useful. But your time is over."
Tears threatened to spill, but Elara blinked them away fiercely.
"You'll regret this," she said. "One day."
Kaelin reached behind her belt and drew a knife.
"No," Elara gasped, desperation filling her chest. She grabbed a heavy candlestick nearby and swung it blindly.
Kaelin ducked just in time, and Calren's hand slammed into her back, knocking the wind from her lungs.
"Stop!" Elara begged.
Kaelin hesitated for a moment, conflicted.
But Calren's grip tightened on her arm. "Do it."
The knife flashed through the dim light.
Pain exploded in Elara's side — sharp, burning.
She fell to her knees, blood spilling warm and heavy onto the cold stone.
Her world slowed.
Voices faded. The cold seeped in deeper.
Then — out of the shadows of death, came a memory.
She was twelve years old again, running barefoot through the orchard, sun painting the sky with soft pink and gold. Laughter bubbled from her lips as Kaelin ran beside her, hair wild and free in the breeze.
Under the old sycamore tree, they made a secret promise — childish and pure.
"No matter what," Kaelin said, pressing their hands together, "I'll never leave you."
Elara had believed her.
In those moments, she believed in magic — in friendship, in love, in forever.
But forever was a lie.
...The memory faded as darkness pulled at her vision.
Her body grew heavy.
Her breath came shallow.
Then — something inside her stirred.
A warmth, gentle but fierce, bloomed beneath her ribs.
Magic.
The ancient power her family was said to carry — a legacy lost to time. It pulsed like a heartbeat, slow at first, then growing stronger, filling her veins with light and strength. It was as if the very air around her hummed, alive with an energy she hadn't known she still possessed.
Her eyes fluttered open.
She was breathing.
Alive.
But everything had changed.
She blinked against the dimness, trying to make sense of her surroundings. The cold stone beneath her was unfamiliar, but oddly comforting. The torchlight flickered softly, casting tall shadows that seemed to watch her with quiet expectation.
A deep breath filled her lungs.
This was her second chance.
Her heart beat steady now, no longer pounding in fear but with fierce determination.
She would not be a victim.
Not again.
She would rise.
She would uncover every secret, face every betrayal, and reclaim what was stolen from her.
This time, she held the power.
And she was ready.
Her hand brushed against something soft—her mother's old locket, still hanging around her neck, warm and reassuring. It was a small reminder that even in the darkest moments, she carried the light of those who believed in her.
Elara pushed herself up, feeling the pulse of magic steady in her veins. The past was behind her, but its shadow still lingered. Now, she would rewrite her story.