The sun was shining brightly, like a candle suspended in the heavens — small, distant, defiant against the shifting winds of fate. But even in its brilliance, she could feel the unease in the air. A stillness beneath the warmth. A breath held too long.
The blessing of the spirits had kept her veiled for years.
But now, something — or someone — had pierced through it.
She exhaled slowly, the breath curling in the cool air.
Unknown women (murmuring): "I have to tell him about it."
She tightened her cloak and began walking again — inside the forest. Deeper and deeper.
___
Evelyn's days slipped by in a quiet rhythm.
She spent most of her time either eating, resting, or simply observing. Shade often curled beside her, the little serpent becoming her silent companion.
Though the palace remained calm on the surface, something tugged at her awareness—a subtle sense of urgency buried beneath the stillness.
As time passed, Evelyn began to notice something more clearly. Cassy and the others, though young and enthusiastic, were surprisingly diligent. Each day, they trained on their own—swinging weapons, practicing basic spells, reading books—but despite their effort, they were like sailors lost at sea without a compass. Their dedication was admirable, but their direction was scattered.
Gerald, their assigned temporary instructor, did what he could. He was a skilled knight and disciplined mentor, but his knowledge was limited to the sword and battlefield tactics. He couldn't teach Cassy about complex summoning techniques, or help Melinda refine her poison resistance and crafting. He couldn't guide Lily on her magic either. He simply didn't have the knowledge for those specialized fields.
And as for Evelyn herself—though she held a vast reservoir of experience, instinct, and knowledge far beyond anyone in the palace—she couldn't risk revealing it. If she suddenly started instructing them in advanced summoning spells or rare magical principles, questions would rise.
> Where did she learn it?
> When did she study it?
> Who taught her?
And Evelyn wasn't ready to answer any of those questions—not yet.
Which meant only one thing: they needed proper instructors. Individuals with real mastery in their respective disciplines. People who could guide the girls. The problem was... finding the right people without revealing too much.
Evelyn narrowed her eyes, thoughtful as she sat beneath the garden tree. Shade coiled loosely around her arm, sensing her mind turning.
Evelyn (Thoughts): "If they're to stand beside me… they'll need more than just courage. They'll need real power. And power requires the right guidance."
Her gaze shifted toward the rising sun.
Evelyn: "I'll have to start preparing for that. Slowly."
Evelyn remained beneath the tree, the early morning light dancing across her thoughtful face. The wind rustled gently through the leaves above her, Shade resting quietly around her arms.
She tapped a finger lightly against her lips.
Evelyn (Thoughts): "I can't train them myself."
Her identity—what she knew, what she could do—it all had to remain hidden for now. Even the slightest crack in her story could unravel everything. But the girls… they had potential. Raw, untapped, and dangerously vulnerable without the right shaping.
She needed instructors. Masters. People who could teach without asking too many questions. People she could trust—or manipulate.
Evelyn leaned her head back against the tree trunk, mind working fast.
Evelyn (Thoughts): "I can't bring in anyone from inside the capital. Too risky."
Evelyn was too immersed in her thoughts to notice the birds fluttering in the trees above or the wind that stirred the grass around her. Her eyes, usually calm and clear, were shadowed with focus—sharp, calculating.
Evelyn (Thoughts): "Independent mercenaries? No… too unpredictable. They change sides with gold."
Her brow furrowed slightly.
Evelyn (Thoughts): "Retired mages… maybe. But most are either senile, stupid, or dead. The ones... who aren't don't come cheap. And I simply don't have the funds to hire enough of them. So, that's out of the question."
A longer pause followed.
Evelyn (Thought): "Hidden summoners... poison masters... That's too much trouble."
Her lips pressed into a thin line as the weight of responsibility settled heavier across her shoulders.
With a sigh, she rose to her feet, brushing off her skirt with a graceful motion. The morning sun caught the side of her face, painting her features in a soft golden glow. But there was no warmth in her expression now—only resolve.
Her gaze was fixed on the far end of the garden, where the world beyond the palace walls seemed to call to her.
Evelyn (quietly): "I'll have to do it myself."
She looked down at the serpent resting on her arm. Shade blinked once, slow and watchful.
Evelyn: "Only they can be trusted right now."
Her voice was steady. Cold. Final.
She wasn't thinking of nobles or knights, or even the royal guard.
She was thinking of them—ghosts in the shadows. The ones who owed her from a time long before she became 'Evelyn.'
They were dangerous. Elusive. Unpredictable.
But trustworthy.
Evelyn (Thoughts): "If anyone can train Cassy and the others without turning it into a political circus, it's them."
Evelyn glanced over her shoulder, toward the training ground where Cassy and the others were already practicing under the morning sun. Their movements were determined, but clumsy. They had heart, but no polish.
Evelyn: "They deserve better than this."
Shade hissed softly in agreement.
The decision had been made.
Now came the first step: contacting a world she had buried with her old self.
She turned back toward the palace, the crisp sound of her footsteps parting the dew-covered grass. As she walked, her voice was barely a whisper:
Evelyn: "Time to wake up some old friends."
Her eyes gleamed with quiet resolve as the morning sun broke fully across the sky.
Later that day, the palace ground was alive with energy.
Sunlight filtered through the garden trellises, dappling the stone tiles with patches of gold and green. The leaves had begun their slow descent into fire and gold, drifting lazily from the tall trees like forgotten dreams.
The once-vibrant greens of summer had dulled into amber, rust, and crimson. Gentle gusts of wind rustled through the black rose palace, carrying the scent of drying herbs, flowers, and distant woodsmoke.