Kaelus returned an hour later, his expression a mixture of grudging respect and lingering suspicion. He carried a heavy, leather-bound book and a sealed vial of ink. He didn't speak. He simply placed the items on the table and stood by the door, a silent, watchful shadow.
Selena understood. The Sorcerer King was a pragmatic ruler. He saw her as a tool, and a tool was only as useful as its ability to perform its function. The book was a ledger, a record of the political and magical dealings within the kingdom. The ink was a unique magical substance that would allow her to write down her "visions" in a secure, encrypted way that only the King and Kaelus could read. It was a test. A test of her knowledge, and a test of her loyalty.
She opened the book. The pages were blank, waiting to be filled with the secrets of the future. The silence in the room was a heavy presence, a suffocating weight that threatened to crush her. But she was not an ordinary human. She was the ghost in the machine, and she had just been given a new weapon. A pen.
She dipped the quill into the magical ink and began to write. She didn't write about the rebellion in the North. That was old news. She wrote about a new threat, a new plot she had remembered from the original manhwa. A plot about a secret society of nobles who were plotting to assassinate the Sorcerer King.
The information was a dangerous gamble. If she was wrong, her life would be forfeit. But she knew the plot was real. She had to convince Kaelus that she had a power that was beyond his comprehension. She had to make him her ally, her silent accomplice.
She wrote in her strange, cryptic language, weaving a tale of a "serpent in the court," a "wolf in a flock of sheep," and a "golden heart that beats with a poisoned rhythm." She didn't use names. She used metaphors, allegories, and symbols that would only make sense to someone who had an intimate knowledge of the court and its inner workings.
Kaelus watched her, his face a mask of stone. He didn't speak, but she could feel his eyes on her, a constant, probing gaze that was trying to unravel her secrets. He saw a human, a fragile girl who was writing in a language he had never seen before. He didn't see the truth. He didn't see the long, sleepless nights she had spent memorizing every plot point, every character, every single detail of a world that was not her own.
She finished her writing, her hand trembling with exhaustion. She closed the book and held it out to him. "Tell your King," she said, her voice a low, melodic whisper, "that the serpent is his most trusted advisor. The wolf is the leader of his guard. And the golden heart is the one who holds the key to his kingdom."
Kaelus took the book. He didn't speak. He didn't thank her. He simply looked at her, his eyes a cold, fathomless abyss. He saw a woman who was a walking paradox: a fragile human with a terrifying power. He didn't understand her, but he knew she was telling the truth.
He left her chamber, a ghost of a whisper in his ears. He was a powerful mage, a master of his craft. But in that moment, he felt a flicker of something he had never felt before: fear. Not fear of his King. But fear of the woman who could see the shadows that he could not.
Her first six months in the castle were a silent, terrifying dance. She was a ghost in the machine, a whisper in the dark, a puppet master pulling the strings of a world that wanted her dead. She had no friends, no allies, only Kaelus, a silent, watchful shadow who was her only connection to the outside world. He would come to her chamber every night, a silent presence that would take her coded prophecies to the King.
She had to be perfect. One wrong word, one wrong prophecy, one wrong move, and her life would be forfeit. But she was not an ordinary human. She was a master of logic, a master of manipulation. She was a ghost in the machine, and she would not be silenced.