The nursery felt wrong. Not the kind of wrong you notice right away, but the slow-creeping kind that makes your skin crawl. Even after that thing vanished—whatever the hell it was—something stayed behind. The air was colder, sharper. I could feel it pressing down on us like invisible weight.
Mira held me close, her warmth the only thing keeping the chill from seeping into my bones. I felt her trembling even though her voice stayed steady. "You're safe, my little warrior. You're safe with me."
*Safe?* The word felt like a joke. That figure had looked right at me. Not at some random baby in a crib—at *me*. Like it knew something I didn't.
Mira's breathing evened out as she pressed her cheek against my forehead. She pulled the blanket tighter, her hands smoothing the edges over and over. The trembling stopped, but I could still feel her heartbeat racing against my chest.
The door creaked open. Charlotte walked in, her steps sharp but her eyes darting around the room like she expected something to jump out at her. Usually Charlotte moved like she owned every space she entered. Tonight? She looked rattled.
"Lady Mira." Her voice was tight. "The perimeter is secured. No further signs of... intrusion."
She said that last word like she didn't believe it. Neither did I.
Mira didn't answer right away. Just kept rocking me, slower now, like exhaustion was finally hitting her. Her golden hair fell over my face as she leaned down. Her lips pressed together, eyes clouded with thoughts she wasn't sharing.
"What did you see?" she asked finally. Not demanding—just the voice of someone who didn't want the answer but needed it anyway.
Charlotte shifted her weight, bracing herself. For her, hesitation was rare. She was always ready for anything. But now her shoulders tensed like she was preparing for a blow.
"I don't know," she admitted. The words hit heavy. "It wasn't human. Not entirely. Left no physical traces, but—" Her eyes flicked toward where the figure had stood. "—it was here. And it was real."
Mira's hold on me tightened. Her heartbeat quickened, pounding through her chest into mine. Her fear was quiet, wrapped in soft lullabies and gentle rocking, but it was there.
"You should've called Lucien," Mira said, her voice firmer but strained. "He needs to know."
Charlotte's expression didn't change, but something shifted in her posture. "He knows. He's on his way."
The words hung in the air like a threat. If Lucien was coming, this wasn't just some random haunting. He didn't run toward shadows. If he was coming, we were in real trouble.
Mira's grip tightened again—not enough to hurt, just enough for me to feel how real her fear was. Charlotte crossed the room with measured steps, her fingers twitching like they wanted to reach for her sword. The shadows she cast flickered in the moonlight, like the light couldn't hold its shape.
"What about the wards?" Mira broke the silence. "The estate should be impenetrable. You said so yourself."
Charlotte's eyes snapped to her. "They were intact. I checked them yesterday, and again after..." She glanced at the corner where the figure had appeared. "After *it* showed up."
"Then how?" Mira's voice wavered. "How could something get through? It shouldn't be possible."
Charlotte hesitated. Again. "If it was ordinary, I'd agree. But this isn't ordinary, my lady. Whatever that thing was, it didn't break through the wards. It bypassed them completely."
Mira looked at her sharply. I felt her body shift as she adjusted her hold on me. "What are you saying?"
Charlotte turned toward the window, her silhouette smaller than usual against the glass. Not weaker—Charlotte didn't do weak—but more human. Like the weight of the moment was crushing her shoulders.
"I'm saying it didn't come from outside," she said quietly. "It came from here."
The words hit like a punch. Mira flinched, and I felt it ripple through her. She looked down at me, doubt flickering in her eyes. The kind of doubt that comes when you realize you don't know your own home anymore.
"What are you implying?" Her tone cut through the silence like a blade.
Before Charlotte could answer, the door swung open. Silent, smooth, but it might as well have been a thunderclap. Lucien stepped inside, and everything changed. His presence filled the room, made you want to straighten up even if you didn't know why. Tall, sharp features carved from stone, piercing blue eyes that swept across us like a cold wind.
"Explain," he said. Low voice, but it carried enough weight to feel like a command.
Charlotte stiffened. "There was an intruder. Appeared in the nursery, left no physical trace, bypassed the wards entirely."
Lucien's gaze moved to me, eyes narrowing as they locked onto mine. For a moment, I thought he might see through me—see the real me, trapped in this helpless body. His expression didn't change, but there was something calculating there, like he was solving a puzzle he hadn't known existed.
"And the child?" Sharp edge beneath his steady tone.
Mira straightened, holding me closer like a shield. "He's fine. Whatever that thing was, it didn't touch him."
Lucien stepped further into the room, boots echoing against the floor. He stopped in the middle and stared at the corner where the figure had been. The silence stretched, suffocating, until he finally turned back to Charlotte.
"Details. I want everything."
Charlotte nodded. "I was stationed outside when I noticed an energy disturbance. Nothing I've felt before. The wards didn't react, but the air... shifted. When I entered, the figure was already here. It didn't move, didn't speak, but it was—" She paused, searching. "—watching."
"Watching what?" His eyes flicked to me again.
Charlotte hesitated just for a moment. "Him. It was watching the boy."
Mira's arms tightened around me. I felt her body tense as she looked between Charlotte and Lucien. "And you didn't call for backup? You let it stay here with my son?"
Charlotte met her gaze evenly. "I didn't have time. It disappeared before I could act."
"Disappeared," Lucien repeated, voice flat.
"Yes. It didn't leave through any physical means. It simply... dissolved. But the presence it left behind—" She looked back at the corner, eyes narrowing. "It's still here. Faint, but there."
Lucien crossed the room to stand beside Mira, his presence looming over us as he studied me again. I stared back, trying to keep my expression neutral, but I could feel him probing, searching.
"What about the boy? Did he react?"
Mira shifted slightly, hesitation almost invisible. "He cried. But only for a moment. Then he..." She trailed off, gaze on me like she was trying to make sense of what she'd seen. "He calmed down. Almost instantly."
Lucien's eyes narrowed. "That's unusual."
Mira straightened. "He's a baby, Lucien. Babies cry. They calm down. It doesn't mean anything."
Lucien didn't respond, but doubt flickered in his eyes. He wasn't convinced. Neither was I. Something had happened—something I couldn't explain yet. I could feel it thrumming beneath my skin like a distant heartbeat.
Then the system activated.
The familiar glow flickered into my vision, intrusive and sharp.
[New Quest: Uncover the Nature of the Intrusion]
Objective: Analyze the remnants left behind by the entity.
Reward: Knowledge Fragment – The Forgotten Pact.
Great. Another cryptic message with zero context. How was I supposed to "analyze" anything when I couldn't even crawl? But the word *remnants* stuck out. Something was still here, and the system wanted me to figure it out.
"Lucien," Mira's voice broke the silence, steadier now but still worried underneath. "We need to know what this was. If it can bypass the wards—"
"It won't happen again," Lucien interrupted. Calm but cold. He didn't look at her, gaze fixed on the corner where the figure had been. The shadows seemed thicker there, darker, even though the moonlight was the same everywhere else.
"It shouldn't have happened in the first place," Mira countered, grip tightening on me. "This is our son's room, Lucien. If the wards aren't enough—"
"They are," Lucien snapped, eyes flashing as he turned to face her. The tension thickened, a weight pressing down on all of us. Then he stepped back, exhaled slowly. "They are," he repeated, softer.
Mira didn't reply. Just looked at him, expression mixing frustration and exhaustion. Her hands moved unconsciously, adjusting the blanket around me again, fingers brushing my cheek in a way that felt protective but uncertain.
Charlotte cleared her throat. "The wards need inspection. If something bypassed them, we need to know how."
Lucien nodded curtly. "Do it. Start with the nursery."
Charlotte moved to the corner where the figure had been, steps measured. She knelt, gloved fingers brushing over the floorboards, eyes narrowing in concentration.
I focused on her movements, trying to pick up anything. There was faint energy there, a pulse vibrating just beneath the surface. I couldn't see it normally, but when I concentrated—when I let the Kairoptic Vision settle over me—I could barely make out the faintest shimmer of red, like an echo of a flame that had died long ago.
"Charlotte," Lucien's tone sharpened. "What do you see?"
She hesitated, fingers hovering over the spot. "There's a residue. Faint, but there. Whatever this was, it left a mark."
"What kind of mark?" Mira asked, voice quieter but insistent.
Charlotte straightened, turning to face them. "It's not physical. It's... arcane. Old. Too old to trace without further analysis."
"Old?" Lucien's voice hardened. "How old?"
Charlotte's eyes flicked to me for just a fraction of a second before she answered. "Older than the wards. Possibly older than the estate itself."
The words hung heavy in the air. Mira's grip on me tightened, her heartbeat quickening.
"That's impossible," Lucien said, though his voice lacked conviction.
"Apparently not," Charlotte replied carefully. "Whatever this was, it didn't just bypass the wards. It predates them. It's connected to something deeper, something tied to the foundation of this place."
Lucien's jaw tightened. I could see the conflict in his eyes. He hated uncertainty, thrived on control, on knowing exactly what he was dealing with. This? This was something he couldn't quantify.
"We'll deal with it," he said finally, tone leaving no room for argument. "Whatever it takes."
Mira didn't look convinced. She glanced down at me, expression softening. "And what about him? What if it comes back for him?"
"It won't," Lucien said, but even he didn't sound sure.
Mira's frustration built. "That's not good enough. We can't just hope it doesn't happen again, Lucien. We have to know why it happened in the first place."
Lucien just looked at her, sharp blue eyes locked onto hers. The room felt colder than ever. Finally, he turned to Charlotte.
"Do whatever you need to. Find out what this is. Find out why it's here."
Charlotte nodded. "I'll start immediately."
She left without another word, steps fading into the hallway silence.
Lucien stayed a moment longer, gaze lingering on me. I stared back, trying to keep my expression blank, but I could feel him searching for something he couldn't name.
Finally, he turned to Mira. "Keep him close. Until we know more, don't let him out of your sight."
Mira nodded, arms tightening around me as Lucien left.
The silence that followed was suffocating. Mira rocked me gently, hands smoothing over the blanket again and again, but tension filled her movements. She was trying to create normalcy that didn't exist anymore.
"You're safe," she whispered, though it sounded more like a prayer than a promise.
I wanted to believe her. But the system's quest lingered in my mind: *Uncover the Nature of the Intrusion.*
Something was still here. Something bigger than any of us understood. And somehow, I knew it wasn't done with me yet.
The nursery stayed quiet—too quiet. Just Mira's gentle rocking and the sound of her trying to hold herself together. The silence wasn't comforting. It was the kind that stretched on, making the world feel like it was holding its breath.
"You're too quiet, my little warrior," she murmured, voice barely louder than a breath. "Babies are supposed to cry. Laugh. Do something." Her laugh was soft, almost bitter. She was trying to hold it together, but cracks were forming.
I wanted to reassure her somehow. Even as I wriggled in her arms, this body mocked me with its limitations. A soft gurgle escaped my lips—the closest I could get to speech. Mira's gaze snapped down to me, eyes softening as a small, tired smile crept onto her face.
"There you are," she whispered, cradling me closer. "My Caelum. My bright little star."
She leaned down, forehead resting gently against mine. For a moment, her warmth drowned out the lingering chill from the figure's presence. Not enough to banish the darkness, but enough to remind me I wasn't alone.
But even as Mira tried to find comfort in the quiet, something was still wrong. The faint shimmer I'd seen with my Kairoptic Vision pulsed in the corner where the figure had stood. The system's words echoed: *Analyze the remnants left behind by the entity.*
I concentrated again, letting my vision shift. The shimmer grew clearer, more defined. Not just a presence—a mark, etched into the air itself. Lines and shapes twisted together in patterns that felt ancient, too intricate to be natural. It pulsed faintly, almost alive, and I could feel its energy humming through me.
But I wasn't the only one who noticed. Mira's grip tightened slightly, eyes narrowing as she looked toward the same corner.
"What is that?" she murmured, voice barely audible.
I didn't know how she could see it—or if she could truly see it at all. Maybe it was just instinct, honed by years of living where magic and danger went hand in hand. Either way, the unease in her voice was unmistakable.
Before either of us could think about it more, the door creaked open. Charlotte stepped back inside, face as composed as always, but there was tension in how she moved. Her eyes darted around the room before settling on Mira.
"Initial inspection is done," she said, tone clipped and professional. "No breach in the wards, but there's... something else."
Mira straightened, arms tightening around me. "Something else?" Her voice had an edge to it.
Charlotte nodded. "The wards are intact, but their integrity got compromised. Whatever that thing was, it didn't just bypass them—it left a trace. A disruption."
Mira's expression darkened. I felt her pulse quicken again. "What kind of disruption?"
Charlotte hesitated, glancing at me for just a moment before looking back at Mira. "It's tied to him. The energy it left behind... it's resonating with the boy."
The room felt colder. The weight of her words pressed down on all of us. Mira's grip tightened even more, and I felt the faint tremor in her hands as she looked down at me.
"That's impossible," she said quietly, but doubt leaked through her voice.
"It's not harmful," Charlotte said quickly, like she was trying to reassure her. "At least, not yet. But it's there. And it's strong."
Mira's eyes darted to the corner again, narrowing. "Is it still here?"
Charlotte hesitated. "Not... fully. The entity itself is gone, but its presence remains. It's faint, but connected to the boy. I don't know how, but—"
"Enough," Mira interrupted, voice sharper than I'd ever heard it. "He's just a baby. He has nothing to do with this."
Charlotte didn't respond, but the look in her eyes said otherwise.
I wanted to speak, to explain, but all I could do was watch as the two women stood in tense silence. The system's quest pulsed in the back of my mind, a constant reminder that there was more to this than any of them realized.
Charlotte finally broke the silence. "I'll continue the inspection. There may be more traces elsewhere in the estate."
Mira didn't respond, just gave a small, sharp nod. Charlotte turned and left, her steps fading into the distance.
As the door closed, Mira let out a shaky breath. Her head bowed slightly as she pressed me closer to her chest. Her hair fell around us like a golden curtain, blocking out the rest of the world.
"It's not you," she whispered, more to herself than to me. "It can't be you." She kept rocking me, movements almost mechanical, like the repetition could shield her from what Charlotte had implied. But I felt it—that quiet tension tightening like a string pulled too tight, ready to snap.
I shifted in her arms, a small gesture to remind her I was here, alive, and aware. She looked down at me, golden hair framing her face, and her expression softened slightly. Her lips parted like she wanted to say something, but no words came. Instead, she brushed her fingers against my cheek, touch lingering, warm but trembling.
"It's not you," she whispered again, voice firmer this time, like repeating it could make it true.
The door creaked open again. This time, Lucien stepped inside. The room seemed to darken in his presence—not because of malice, but because he carried a weight that was impossible to ignore. His sharp blue eyes scanned the room, taking in Mira's protective stance and the tension still lingering in the air like invisible fog.
"Report," he said, tone cutting through the quiet like a blade.
Mira didn't answer immediately. Her body stiffened, arms tightening around me instinctively, like she was shielding me from him. But Lucien wasn't looking at her—he was looking at the corner where the figure had stood, gaze narrowed and calculating.
"It's connected to him," Mira said finally, voice steady but strained. "That's what Charlotte believes."
Lucien's eyes flicked to her, then down to me, expression unreadable. The silence stretched, heavy and oppressive, and I felt the weight of his gaze pressing down on me.
"And what do you believe?" he asked, voice low but sharp.
Mira hesitated, fingers curling around the edge of my blanket. "I believe he's just a child. Whatever this is, it's not his fault."
Lucien's jaw tightened. He stepped closer, shadow falling over both of us. He reached out, hand hovering just above me, and I felt the faintest chill radiating from him. He didn't touch me—never did—but his presence alone made my small body tense.
"There's more to him than you understand," Lucien said, voice quieter now, almost a murmur. "More than any of us understand."
Mira's eyes flashed, protective instincts flaring. "He's a baby, Lucien. He's our son."
"And that's exactly why we can't ignore this," Lucien snapped, tone hardening. "If that thing came for him, then he's already a target. Pretending otherwise will only make us blind to the danger."
The tension between them crackled like a storm about to break. Mira's gaze was fierce, grip on me unyielding, but Lucien's presence was equally immovable. Two forces colliding, and I was caught in the middle.
"I won't let you treat him like a weapon," Mira said finally, voice low but filled with steel. "Not now. Not ever."
Lucien didn't respond immediately. His eyes lingered on me, expression dark and unreadable, before he finally turned away. "The wards are being inspected. If there's a weakness, we'll find it."
Mira didn't reply. She just watched him leave, body still tense even after the door clicked shut behind him.
The room was quiet again, save for the faint hum of the system still lingering in my mind. The quest hadn't changed—still there, waiting, insistent.
*Analyze the remnants left behind by the entity.*
I glanced toward the corner again, letting my Kairoptic Vision settle over me. The shimmering mark was still there, faint red glow pulsing rhythmically, almost like a heartbeat. Weaker now, but not gone. Whatever it was, it wasn't natural—and it wasn't leaving anytime soon.
Mira shifted suddenly, breaking my focus. Her fingers brushed against my cheek, touch gentle but firm. "You're safe," she murmured again, but this time, the words felt hollow. She wasn't convincing me—she was convincing herself.
The door opened for the third time that night. Charlotte stepped inside again, movements quicker now, more precise, expression tighter than before. She carried something in her hand—a small, silver device that glowed faintly in the dim light.
"I found something," she said, voice brisk. "In the eastern wing."
Mira turned sharply, arms tightening around me protectively. "What is it?"
Charlotte stepped closer, holding out the device. The glow intensified as she approached, casting strange, twisting shadows across the room. "Residual energy. Similar to what's here, but stronger. Concentrated."
Mira's eyes narrowed, grip on me unyielding. "What does that mean?"
Charlotte hesitated, gaze flicking to the corner where the mark pulsed faintly. "It means this isn't isolated. Whatever this is, it's spreading."
The words sent a chill through the room, colder than anything the figure had left behind. Mira's expression hardened, fear twisting into something sharper, more determined.
"Where is Lucien?" she demanded, voice steady but laced with urgency.
"He's in the archives," Charlotte replied. "Searching the old records for anything that might explain this."
Mira nodded, jaw tightening. "Take me to him."
Charlotte hesitated, gaze flicking to me again. "And the boy?"
"He stays with me," Mira said firmly, tone leaving no room for argument.
Charlotte didn't push it. She just nodded, posture stiffening as she stepped aside to let Mira pass. Mira moved quickly, steps deliberate but careful as she carried me out of the nursery.
The hallway was dark, faint moonlight barely illuminating the ornate carvings that lined the walls. Shadows danced across the stone floor, shapes twisting and stretching like they were alive. Mira's pace quickened, breathing steady but tense, and I felt her heartbeat thundering against my back.
Charlotte led the way, movements precise and controlled, but I could see the tension in her shoulders. She wasn't immune to the unease that clung to the estate like a shroud.
As we approached the archives, the air grew heavier, charged with a faint energy that made my skin prickle. The ornate double doors were already open, and Lucien stood in the center of the room, surrounded by ancient tomes and glowing sigils that hovered in the air around him.
He didn't look up as we entered. His focus was entirely on the sigils, sharp blue eyes scanning the symbols with precision that bordered on obsession.
"Lucien," Mira said, voice cutting through the silence.
He didn't respond immediately. His hand moved, tracing one of the sigils, and the glowing lines shifted, rearranging themselves into a new pattern. Finally, he turned, gaze locking onto Mira with intensity that made the air feel colder.
"I found it," he said, voice low but weighted.
"Found what?" Mira asked, tone sharp.
Lucien's gaze flicked to me, and for a moment, his expression softened—not with kindness, but with something closer to regret. Then he turned back to the sigils, gesturing for Mira to come closer.
"This," he said, pointing to the glowing patterns. "It's not just an intrusion. It's a summoning."
The words hit harder than I expected. I felt Mira's body tense, grip on me tightening as she stepped closer to Lucien.
"A summoning for what?" she asked, voice quieter now, almost a whisper.
Lucien's eyes darkened, expression grim. "Something that predates the Alarics. Something tied to the estate's foundations." He hesitated, jaw tightening. "And to him."
His gaze fell on me again, and I felt the weight of it pressing down on me, heavier than before.
Mira's breath hitched, but she didn't falter. "What does it want with him?"
Lucien didn't answer right away. He turned back to the sigils, hand moving to trace another glowing line. "That's what we need to find out."
But even as he spoke, the mark in the nursery pulsed again, a faint tremor that echoed in the back of my mind like a distant drumbeat. The system flickered, words sharp and deliberate:
[Update Complete: Anomaly Analysis Pending...]
The Crimson Figure might have vanished, but its shadow was far from gone.