Ophelia's Point of View
The banquet had ended.
The golden laughter faded into the stone walls.
I had just slipped out through the servant corridor, untying my apron with aching fingers, when I felt it— A sharp tug in the air.
A scent of pine. Of snow.
And before I could turn, a strong hand caught my wrist.
"Don't scream."
I didn't. I knew that voice. Cold, sharp, and wild.
Serenya.
She pulled me into a dim hallway behind the tapestry-lined corridor. Horace hissed slightly and darted behind a pillar.
"Where have you been?" Serenya's silver eyes glared through the darkness.
"I—I had to come here. I have to find the Archives. I can't explain—"
"You don't have time for the Archives," she cut in, voice low but furious. "You need to come with me. Now."
I blinked. "What?"
Serenya stepped closer. Her breath trembled, barely held back.
"It's Magnus."
At his name, something inside me cracked.
"What about him?"
"He's not getting better. He's worse. His dreams are consuming him. His body's cold and burning at the same time. He keeps calling your name in his sleep like it's the only thing keeping him here."
My mouth parted. The weight in my chest grew heavier.
"…Why didn't you say anything sooner?"
"Because I didn't know where you are," she spat. "And honestly, I still don't trust you. But I know my brother. And I know you're tied to him somehow. He doesn't care about people, Ophelia. He doesn't cling. But he's holding onto your name like a prayer."
I looked away.
My fingers curled tightly around my skirt.
I had come here for answers. For justice. For Noel. For the truth buried beneath the golden floors of this cursed kingdom.
But Magnus…
His laughter.
His sulking.
The way he got offended when I mocked him.
The way he looked at me like I was the only mystery he ever wanted to solve.
"You have to choose," Serenya said, voice suddenly softer. "He might not last if you stay here much longer."
I closed my eyes.
For a moment, I stood still.
Two roads stretched before me. One led into secrets, betrayal, divine truths buried in ink and magic. The other… to someone who mattered more than I was ready to admit.
Magnus.
My heart beat faster.
Then I opened my eyes and whispered, "Give me until morning."
Serenya narrowed her eyes. "Why?"
"I need to try one last thing. If I can find even one record, something—anything—I'll go with you. I swear it."
A long pause. The wolf in her stared into me, testing my soul.
Then she nodded.
"One sunrise. Not a second longer."
She let go of my wrist and disappeared into the shadows, leaving behind nothing but the cold wind.
Horace padded up beside me, nuzzling my hand gently.
I sank to the floor, hands shaking.
How could I choose between a duty that burned in my blood—and the boy who made me feel human?
....
I was trying to find the servants' passage that brushed near the Royal Archives. But instead... I found the North Wing.
The air was colder here.
Not just physically—spiritually.
The marble was darker. The candles struggled to stay lit.
It felt like the walls were listening.
Still… something pulled at me.
My fingers brushed the tapestry that veiled the hallway like a warning.
Then I heard it.
A low snarl.
Like a wounded animal chained in silence for too long.
I froze.
And from the shadows… he emerged.
Eyes like fire and frost. Hair like the ashes of a fallen star. Skin pale, almost gray, like life hadn't touched him in years.
The Cursed Prince.
His gaze met mine—and I knew in that instant, he didn't see a girl. He saw prey.
A twisted force of darkness wrapped around him like armor, seething and hissing, as if it lived through him.
He lunged.
I stumbled back, instinct screaming—
But I raised my hand.
A blinding light erupted from my palm.
I hadn't meant to use it. I hadn't even known it would work. Not after so long. But something ripped out of me—a wave of divine force, searing through the darkness like a blade of dawn.
The Prince let out a strangled cry, collapsing to one knee, clutching his head.
Black tendrils peeled away from his body, sizzling, writhing like dying shadows. They evaporated into ash, leaving only fragments—cracked armor and gasping breath.
I stood there, trembling, breathless.
My light dimmed. My hands trembled.
But before I could do or say anything—
Voices. Running footsteps. Guards.
I turned and ran.
Down the corridor. Around the bend. Back through the hidden passage behind the servants' hallway.
By the time I returned to the lower quarters, my cloak was scorched at the sleeves and my knees nearly buckled.
Horace stared at me wide-eyed as if I'd returned from another world.
The candlelight danced on the Castle walls, casting long shadows that swayed like ghosts.I took a deep breath and relax myself because of what just happened, trying to distract myself.
I tried to steady my breath as I prayed, my hands clasped, my thoughts in a thousand tangled knots. My knees ached against the cold marble, but I didn't move. I couldn't.
Then—
Pain.
Sharp. Sudden. Burning.
It bloomed behind my eyes, tearing down my spine like lightning. I gasped, gripping my head as the world around me twisted.
And then I saw her.
Me.
But not… me.
She stood in a world ablaze—flames licking the edge of a battlefield. Her hair was nothing like mine. It was a bright orange-gold, wild and curling down her back like a solar flare. Her eyes weren't exactly like mine—they were green. Vivid. Piercing. Alive with fire and fury.
She wore armor. Etched with gold and divine symbols.
She was a warrior.
My heart thundered. I could feel her rage. Her pain. Her fight.
And then someone screamed her name.
No—my name.
"Solaira."
It shattered through me like a blade through glass.
My vision snapped back.
I collapsed to the ground, my hands trembling. Sweat clung to my skin. My breaths came in broken sobs. I felt cold and hot all at once.
That woman…
That wasn't just a memory.
That was me.
But I didn't know her.
I crawled to the basin beside me and looked down into the water, at the reflection staring back—my face.
My pale hair. My blue eyes.
So different from hers.
Yet… why did my soul ache like I had seen an old friend?
Or… lost one?
"Who are you…?" I whispered aloud.
My chest tightened painfully.
Could I have once been someone else? Something else? Was Solaira who I used to be—before the world called me Ophelia?
And if I was her…
I pressed my forehead to the floor, heart pounding.
So many pieces of me were missing. And now… they were starting to come back. But what if remembering meant losing who I was now?
What if the girl they loved—the one Magnus protected, the one Horace followed, the one who cried and laughed and felt—wasn't even real?
Horace brushed against my shoulder, letting out a soft "meow."
I closed my eyes and curled my fingers into my palms.
I didn't know which frightened me more—
The truth I was remembering.
Or the truth I hadn't yet seen.
Meanwhile...
North Wing – Moments Later
The guards burst into the cursed chamber, swords drawn—ready for a beast.
Instead, they found him slumped on the floor.
Breathing.
Human.
His eyes, once glowing with void, now flickered with something else. Something familiar.
The darkness had receded… just a little.
One of the guards gasped. "Your Highness…?"
The Crown Prince lifted his head slowly. A fragment of light glinted in his pupils.
"…Who… was that…?" he murmured.
But no one answered.
Because no one knew.
Not yet.