Chapter Four: The Woman in the Mirror
The servants had whispered about the East Wing.
The wing where time stopped. Where doors breathed, and paintings bled. Where no one went unless summoned. And even then… they didn't return.
But when I woke in the middle of the night heart thudding, drawn by something unseen I followed the pull without question.
The castle was asleep. Or pretending to be.
Torches dimmed. Walls pulsed like veins. I passed a hallway where a piano played itself in the dark and another where a child's laughter echoed, though no child lived here.
The East Wing door waited at the end of the corridor.
Black and gold. Covered in runes.
It opened for me without a sound.
Inside, the air was colder. Not dead but ancient.
I walked slowly, past shattered mirrors and covered statues, until I found a circular room with a single towering portrait.
My breath caught.
It was a woman.
Beautiful. Ethereal. Silver eyes. Lips slightly parted, like she was about to speak. She wore a crown of stars and on her collarbone, a glowing crescent moon cradled a black flame.
The same mark I'd seen on myself the night Kaelith stood outside my window.
My knees weakened.
Who was she?
Why did she look so much like me?
"She died the night she tried to run."
I turned.
A creature crouched in the corner. Not human. Not beast. Its eyes were the color of rotted gold, and its voice was like cracking bones.
"Who was she?" I asked.
"She was chosen. Like you. Too bright for this world. But his curse…" It smiled. "It's hungry."
"His curse?"
"You think the Prince is the danger? No, girl. The danger is what clings to him. What he keeps at bay for you."
I took a step back.
"You were never chosen by accident."
I ran.
I didn't remember how I got back to my chambers, only that my hands wouldn't stop shaking. That face it was mine. Or close enough. The same eyes. Same hair. And that mark.
What if I wasn't just a random offering?
What if I'd been called here?
I didn't sleep.
When the door burst open at dawn, I knew it was him before he even spoke.
"What the hell were you doing in the East Wing?"
Kaelith's voice thundered like a coming storm.
"I"
"Did you open the portrait chamber?"
My silence was enough.
He crossed the room in two strides, eyes wild not with rage, but something worse.
Fear.
"Do you want to die?"
"She looked like me," I whispered.
His hands clenched.
"Answer me, Kaelith. Who was she?"
"No one."
"Don't lie to me!"
He grabbed my arms. Not rough but enough that I felt him.
Truly felt him.
His magic ran through my bones like fire.
"She was a mistake," he growled. "One I vowed never to make again."
"What did you do to her?"
His grip tightened. Shadows gathered behind him, pulsing.
"She asked questions. She got too close. She thought she could save me."
"And I can't?"
His voice dropped, almost broken. "No one can."
His hand lifted shaking slightly and brushed my jaw. I felt his thumb graze the curve of my neck, just beneath my pulse. A gentle touch. The first.
I froze.
So did he.
His breath hitched. His eyes darkened, locked on the place where his skin met mine.
Then
He stepped back like he'd been burned.
"You're not ready," he said, hoarse.
"For what?"
"For me."