Elric dragged a hand down his face, pressing the heel of his palm against his temple until his vision blurred. He sat there for a long moment, elbow rest against the armrest.
The candle beside him had melted down to a pitiful stub, and the wax had started to pool, hardening along the edge of his desk like frozen tears. Outside, the moonlight spilled through the narrow window, thin and cold as if mocking him for his own sleeplessness.
Three days.
It had been three whole days since Verona disappeared.
He let out a dry laugh, the sound hollow even to his own ears. "Ran away, did she?" he muttered under his breath, leaning back in his chair. His gaze wandered toward the window again, where the faint shimmer of stars blinked indifferently.
He ran his fingers through his hair and let out a sigh. "Of course she did," he murmured. "I'd probably run too if someone suddenly decided to marry me off like that."
He closed his eyes, pressing his fingertips to the bridge of his nose. Maybe he had pushed her too soon. Maybe he had mistaken her silence for acceptance when, in truth, it was rejection.
The room was too still. Even the air felt heavy, blended with the smell of cold stone and burned-out wax. Somewhere outside, a horse whinnied, followed by the muted clank of armor, his men still scouring the nearby woods, probably half-asleep in their saddles by now.
Zachren had organized search parties at dawn, and again at dusk. They had found nothing. Not a single trace of her. Not a footprint, ribbon, nothing that could prove she'd even been there.
It was as if she'd vanished into thin air.
He stood, restless, pacing to the window. His reflection met him there, pale, tired eyes framed by shadows too deep for comfort. He frowned at it, at the stranger wearing his face.
Then, without thinking, he smacked the side of his head lightly with his palm. "Get it together," he muttered, half in frustration, half in disbelief. "You've handled wars, Elric. Not one woman should be this hard to find."
Still, his chest ached. It wasn't anger that clawed at him, it was something quieter, almost pathetic. Disappointment. Worry.
And something he didn't dare name.
A knock came then, muffled but sharp enough to break through his thoughts.
"Come in," he said, his tone flatter than he meant it to be.
Zachren entered, a familiar figure wrapped in exhaustion. His cloak was covered in dust and pine needles, and the faint smell of smoke followed him in. "Nothing yet, my lord," he reported, voice heavy. "We searched past the old bridges and even near the border roads. There's no sign she crossed."
Elric exhaled through his nose and leaned against the edge of his desk. "Then she's hiding somewhere inside the duchy."
"Or being hidden," Zachren said quietly.
That thought stuck like a thorn.
Elric didn't reply right away. He rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling tension build like a knot. "I can't go home without her," he said after a long silence. "I came here to bring my bride and now I don't even know where she is."
Zachren's expression softened, but he didn't argue. "We'll find her," he said simply. "You have my word."
Elric gave a small nod, though it did little to ease the gnawing unease in his gut.
When Zachren finally left, the room sank back into silence. The air seemed to thicken again, pressing against his ribs until he almost couldn't breathe. He ran a thumb over the signet ring on his finger, an old habit when he was thinking too hard, and found himself wondering if proposing to Verona had been a mistake.
Maybe he'd misunderstood her. Maybe she didn't want to be found at all.
And yet… he couldn't quite shake the image of her standing in the garden that day, the way the moonlight caught her hair and her eyes flickered with something he couldn't define. There had been fear, yes, but also something gentler beneath it, something that made his chest tighten in ways he didn't want to admit.
He didn't hear the first shout outside.
But the second one came louder, closer.
Then the door slammed open.
"Duke Elric!"
He turned sharply just as a woman stumbled in, her breath ragged. Liera Vernhardt. Her pale gown was rumpled, her cheeks flushed as if she'd run the whole way here.
Behind her, Zachren appeared again, looking utterly apologetic. "I tried to stop her, but-"
"It's fine," Elric cut him off, though his tone carried an edge. He straightened, folding his arms. "Lady Liera. You're far from where you should be."
She didn't seem to hear him. "I apologize for barging to your room like this. But we have to talk," she said, her voice trembling slightly.
"We have nothing to talk about."
He motioned to Zachren. "Escort the lady back to her quarters."
Zachren hesitated, reaching for her arm, but Liera twisted away, her voice rising with desperation. "Do you even care about my sister?"
That stopped him cold.
Elric turned, slowly, eyes narrowing. "What did you say?"
Liera swallowed hard. Her hands were trembling now, clutching the fabric of her skirt. "Do you care about her? About Verona?"
He laughed once, dry and humorless. "If I didn't, I wouldn't have come all this way to bring her home myself." He stepped closer, tone lowering. "And that's why, whoever your father sends to take her place, I won't accept it. That's including you."
Her expression flickered, not with offense, but something else entirely. A faint, broken smile ghosted across her lips. "Good," she said softly. "Because I don't want to replace her."
That made him pause.
Liera took a shaky breath. "Please," she whispered, voice cracking. "Help her. Please help my sister."
The sincerity in her tone silenced the room. Even Zachren stopped moving, uncertain.
Elric's eyes narrowed slightly. "Explain."
"She didn't run away," Liera said quickly. "My father lied."
He blinked, frowning. "What?"
"The day you arrived… he took her somewhere. I've asked everyone, guards, servants, even the steward, but no one will tell me anything. It's like she disappeared inside her own home."
For a heartbeat, Elric didn't move. Then, slowly, his jaw tightened.
"How dare he hide my bride," he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.
Zachren's gaze darkened beside him. "If that's true-"
"I'll handle it," Elric said sharply. He looked at Liera again. "But can I trust your word?"
"I have no proof," she admitted, tears threatening to spill, "but please… please believe me. Something's wrong."
He believed her.
He didn't know why, but he did.
Elric straightened, his voice turning steel-cold. "Zachren."
"Yes, my lord."
"Wake the guards. We're meeting Duke Vernhardt. Now."
Zachren nodded grimly. "He won't speak easily."
"Oh, he will," Elric said, and there was a faint, dangerous smile at the corner of his mouth, one that made Zachren's brow furrow. "He just doesn't know it yet."
They left the chamber, the three of them moving through the corridor where the torches hissed and sputtered against the walls. The manor was silent except for the soft thud of boots against marble.
And then... The floor trembled.
At first, it was faint, like a gust of wind rattling the glass. But then it came again, stronger this time, deep, rumbling, as though something beneath the ground had stirred.
A split second later, a thunderous boom tore through the air, followed by the flare of crimson light flooding through the window.
Fire.
From the forest.
Zachren turned sharply. "The hell was that?"
Elric's eyes narrowed, reflecting the glow of the flames now licking the horizon.
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he drew in a slow breath, feeling the faint vibration still humming beneath his boots.
Something in his gut twisted.
He turned toward the window once more, the light from the blaze flickering against his face.
"What in the gods' name is happening out there?"