The chamber was quiet again after Saela left, her footsteps disappearing down the corridor like a candle snuffed out behind glass. Rinley was left standing there alone for a while, unsure what she was supposed to do now.
She had been told she would be "sent for later."
That sounded ominous in her head since she already had a bad feeling about what they were planning to do with her.
What was she supposed to do until the king and queen sent for her? Meditate? Pace? Burst into magical flames like a storybook heroine? None of it made sense to her, these things were not supposed to exist, yet they did.
She settled for sitting back down on the velvet chair, breathing out slowly, her fingers curling over the edge of the seat. Her body felt… different, but not unfamiliar. Like trying on a new version of an old favorite coat, fitted in the right places, worn just enough to feel lived in.
She leaned forward and lifted her pant leg again, her prosthetic gleamed under the soft candlelight. The design was unlike anything she had ever seen. Where the old model was bulky and clinical, this one was elegantly refined. Thin lines of glowing script, almost runes, looped in an angular pattern from the ankle to just below her knee. It was metal, but it didn't feel cold.
Her fingers traced the etched curves, and for the briefest second, something pulsed beneath her palm.
Warmth and upon feeling that, she jolted.
The prosthetic sat still. Silent. Inert.
But not dead, it was clear as day, this wasn't a tool anymore.
It was part of her.
Integrated in a way never before.
She stood slowly, testing her balance. No hesitation. No limp. Her gait had once been uneven, subtle but ever-present. Now, she walked like someone who had never known anything but strength.
Still no magic. No fancy abilities like they said the main character gains in books, but... was she even that here in this world?
However, something hummed beneath the surface of her skin.
A thread, coiled, waiting.
She didn't know what it was yet, but it wasn't just physical. It was in the air. In her breath and in the sharp way her senses picked up every sound, every flicker of movement outside the window.
She moved to the door and to her surprise, it wasn't locked.
Which meant either they trusted her, someone was watching, or they simply saw her as a weak bug.
Probably all of the above.
Carefully, she eased it open and stepped into the hallway.
Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the area, stone floors and high, arched ceilings. Tapestries with gold thread and beasts woven into battle. Columns ran along one side, and the wall to her left was lined with tall windows, moonlight pouring through stained glass in soft, holy colors. The air smelled of polish and herbs. It was quieter than it should have been.
No guards in sight.
But she could feel it—someone, somewhere, watching.
Still, no one stopped her.
So she walked.
She kept close to the wall, her footfalls light. Her prosthetic made no sound. Whoever designed it had even thought of that, noise absorption. She passed a few closed doors and glanced inside one empty study. Another, a prayer room, flickering with incense and gold-leafed statues. A third, an armory, blades hanging neatly in a half-circle around a mirrored wall.
Then she turned a corner and stopped.
At the far end of the hall, down a short stone stair, an archway led to a courtyard.
It was night, the moon was high and the sky cloudless.
The courtyard looked like something out of a gothic fairytale, an open space ringed by spires, ivy crawling the black stone. In the center was a raised platform carved with strange markings… and a different sword, embedded in a slab of obsidian.
Rinley's heart stuttered at how different everything was; this was her reality now.
She stepped outside cautiously, and the wind caught her coat, whipping it gently behind her as she crossed the courtyard. No one stopped her. No voice cried out.
The moment she reached the platform, her hand went numb.
Like static filled her fingers.
The swords were ancient. Not gleaming. It wasn't some polished artifact. The hilt was weathered, the blade dulled by time, but the veins of red running along its length seemed to pulse softly.
Almost like it was alive.
Rinley stepped closer, against every better judgment she had.
The second her foot hit the first step of the obsidian platform, her body tensed. Her prosthetic sparked faintly, runes flickering brighter and her pulse spiked.
Then the wind died and blood ran down her nose as her eyes widened in shock.
The torches lining the courtyard snuffed out all at once, plunging her into moonlight and shadow.
She froze and the platform beneath her groaned.
Symbols lit up in a deep, burning blue, one by one, around her feet. They crawled out from the sword's base, spreading in concentric circles like a living script.
Rinley took one step back, fear and dread crawling up her spine like a snake wrapping around its prey, a feeling she had never truly felt until now.
'What is going on? Am I scared? This is my reality now, a world I know nothing of. One that I have to survive in... What is going on and who am I supposed to be here?" she muttered in confusion as her eyes darted around the area, but no one was in sight.
Her eyes narrowed; it felt unusual. Normally a palace would have guards patrolling at every hour, so why were none there? She was about to call out for someone when the air around her thickened, pressing against her skin like a second atmosphere.
The swords trembled in place and then—
It spoke.
Not in sound.
Not even in words, but in a pulse, sending a message straight to her skull.
Not in a language she recognized.
But she understood.
"The vessel walks, it has arrived. The silence breaks."