Aria's POV
I couldn't breathe.
Sir Edric practically dragged me away from the west wing, both of us running until we were back in the main part of the palace. When we finally stopped, I bent over, gasping.
"We have to tell the prince," Sir Edric said, his voice shaking. "He needs to know the Shade is hiding there. That it's been there all along—"
"He already knows."
We both spun around.
Prince Kael stood at the end of the corridor, and his face was dark as a storm.
"You went into the west wing." It wasn't a question. His voice was deadly quiet. "After I specifically sealed it. After I forbade anyone from entering."
"Your Highness, I—" Sir Edric started.
"Leave us." The prince's silver eyes never left mine. "Now."
Sir Edric hesitated, then bowed and hurried away, throwing me one last worried look.
I was alone with the prince.
And he was furious.
"What were you thinking?" He walked toward me, and I instinctively stepped back. "That wing is sealed for a reason. The magic in there is corrupted, poisonous. You could have died—"
"Your brother is in there!" The words exploded out of me. "Tobias. His ghost. He's still waiting for you to come back. He doesn't even know he's dead!"
The prince stopped moving. His entire body went rigid.
"You saw him," he whispered.
"He asked about you. Said you were hiding. Said everyone left without saying goodbye." Tears ran down my face. "He's alone in there, Kael. With those shadow things. With the Shade. He's been alone for seven years."
Something broke in the prince's expression. Just for a second. Raw pain, so deep it hurt to look at.
Then the mask slammed back down.
"You don't understand what you saw," he said coldly. "That's not my brother. It's a trap. The Shade uses the forms of the dead to lure people in. To feed on their grief."
"But what if it really is him? What if some part of him is still—"
"HE'S DEAD!" The prince's voice cracked like thunder. "They're all dead! And going into that wing won't bring them back. It will only get you killed!"
His hands were shaking. Actually shaking.
I'd never seen him lose control before.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I didn't mean to—"
"Get out." He turned away from me. "Go to your room. Lock the door. Don't come out until I say so."
"But—"
"NOW!"
I ran.
But not to my room.
I couldn't face those four walls. Couldn't face the black rose and the countdown to tomorrow night. Couldn't face any of it.
I ran until I found a door that led outside.
The garden.
The dead garden I'd seen from my first room's window.
I stepped into cold air and frozen ground. Everything here was dead—roses turned black, trees bare and twisted, grass gray as ash.
It looked exactly how I felt inside.
I walked to the center where a fountain stood, its water frozen solid. Sat on the edge and put my head in my hands.
Tomorrow night, the Shade would come for me.
The prince was right—I didn't know how to use my power. Didn't know how to protect myself. Didn't know anything except how to make fruit faces and sing songs and bake bread.
Useless skills against monsters.
"I'm sorry, Finn," I whispered to the dead garden. "I'm going to fail. I'm going to—"
My hand touched the frozen earth beside the fountain.
And I felt something.
A pulse. Faint, barely there. Like a heartbeat buried deep underground.
Life.
Somehow, impossibly, there was still life in this garden.
Without thinking, I knelt and started digging. Clearing away frozen leaves and dead branches. My hands got cold, dirty, but I kept going.
"What are you doing?" I muttered to myself. "This is crazy. These plants have been dead for years. Nothing can—"
My fingers touched something.
A root. Still alive. Still holding on.
I laughed. Actually laughed. Because this stubborn little root refused to give up, even when everything around it had died.
Just like me.
Just like the prince.
I started working faster, clearing weeds, breaking up frozen soil. Talking to myself the way I used to when I gardened with my mother.
"Come on, little ones. I know you're tired. I know it's been cold for so long. But you can do this. Just a little more. Just hold on a little longer..."
I didn't notice I'd started singing. An old village song my mother taught me. About spring coming after winter. About hope surviving the dark.
I was so focused on the garden that I didn't hear footsteps behind me.
"Why are you singing in a dead garden?"
I jumped and spun around.
Prince Kael stood there, arms crossed, watching me with those unreadable silver eyes.
How long had he been standing there?
"I—" I looked down at my dirty hands. "I was just—"
"Digging in frozen ground." He stepped closer. "Singing to dead plants. Talking to roots that can't hear you."
Heat rushed to my face. "I know it's stupid. But I found life. Real life, still here. And I thought maybe if I just cleared away the dead things, gave them space to breathe—"
"They might grow again," he finished quietly.
I looked up at him, surprised.
For once, his expression wasn't cold. It was... complicated. Like he was trying to understand something that confused him.
"My mother loved gardens," I said softly. "Before she died, we had flowers everywhere. She said gardens are proof that beautiful things can survive terrible conditions. That even when everything looks dead, life is just waiting underneath."
"That's a nice thought." The prince crouched beside me, looking at the cleared patch of earth. "But sometimes things are just dead. No amount of hoping will bring them back."
"Maybe." I touched the living root again. "But sometimes they're not dead. Just sleeping. Just waiting for someone to care enough to wake them up."
I looked at him.
He looked back.
And for just a moment—one fragile, impossible moment—something flickered in his eyes. Something that wasn't coldness or anger or emptiness.
Something that might have been hope.
Then it was gone.
He stood up. "You're wasting your time. This garden died seven years ago. Just like everything else in this palace."
He turned to leave.
"Even dead things can grow again if someone cares enough," I called after him.
He stopped. Didn't turn around.
"You're talking about the garden," he said.
"Am I?"
Silence stretched between us.
Then, so quietly I almost didn't hear: "Don't stay out here too long. The Shade hunts at twilight."
He walked away.
But something had changed. I felt it in the air. In the way he'd looked at me. In that flicker of hope that had crossed his face.
Maybe I was getting through to him after all.
I turned back to the garden and kept digging.
An hour later, my hands were raw and freezing, but I'd cleared a large patch. Exposed dozens of roots that were still alive, still fighting.
I sat back, satisfied.
Then I saw it.
One of the roots I'd cleared was glowing.
Not bright. Just a faint golden shimmer, like sunlight through water.
I touched it, and warmth spread through my fingers.
My magic.
It was happening. Without trying, without thinking, I'd pushed my magic into the earth.
And the root responded, growing stronger, brighter.
"I did it," I whispered, amazed. "I actually did—"
The root suddenly shot upward, breaking through the frozen ground.
Then another. And another.
All around me, roots erupted from the earth, glowing gold, reaching toward the sky.
Vines wrapped around the dead fountain. Flowers burst from bare branches. Grass turned from gray to green in spreading waves.
The entire garden was coming alive.
No—not coming alive.
Exploding with life.
Too much life. Too fast.
I tried to stop it, to pull my magic back, but it was like trying to stop a flood. The power poured out of me, wild and uncontrolled.
The garden grew higher, thicker, wilder. Vines covered walls. Roses grew as big as my head. Trees shot up thirty feet in seconds.
"Stop!" I shouted at myself. "Please stop!"
But it wouldn't stop.
And then I felt it—my energy draining. Fast. The magic was feeding on my life force, using me up.
My vision blurred. My legs gave out.
I was dying.
The garden was killing me to bring itself back to life.
Through fading vision, I saw someone running toward me.
The prince.
He grabbed my shoulders. "Aria! What did you do?"
"Can't... stop..." I gasped.
He looked at the wild garden, at my glowing hands, at my pale face.
Then he did something I never expected.
He placed his hands over mine.
And silver light poured from him.
Cold, controlled silver light that wrapped around my wild gold magic like chains. Containing it. Controlling it. Stopping it.
The garden's growth slowed. Stopped.
My magic snapped back into me all at once.
I collapsed against the prince's chest, gasping for air.
"Breathe," he ordered, one arm supporting me. "Just breathe."
I tried. My whole body felt like it had been turned inside out.
"What... what did you do?" I asked weakly.
"Stopped you from killing yourself." His voice was harsh, but his arm around me was gentle. "Magic without control is suicide. Didn't Mira teach you that?"
"Mira hasn't taught me anything. She just keeps appearing and disappearing and giving me cryptic warnings—"
I stopped.
Because I'd noticed something.
The prince was still holding me.
And he was warm.
Not ice-cold like before. Actually warm.
I pulled back enough to look at his face.
His silver eyes were... different. Less empty. More alive.
"Your eyes," I whispered. "They're—"
"Aria." His voice was urgent. "When you used your magic just now, did you feel anything else? Anyone else?"
"What do you mean?"
"The Shade. It feeds on magic. Especially Lightbringer magic." His grip tightened. "When you released that much power, you sent up a signal like a flare. Every dark creature within miles felt it."
My blood went cold. "Meaning?"
"Meaning the Shade knows exactly where you are. And it's not going to wait until tomorrow night anymore."
As if on cue, the temperature dropped.
The newly grown flowers around us started turning black.
Withering.
Dying.
And from the direction of the west wing, I heard it.
A howl.
Long, terrible, hungry.
The Shade was coming.
Now.
The prince pulled me to my feet. "RUN!"
We ran toward the palace doors.
Behind us, the howling got closer.
And closer.
We burst through the doors. The prince slammed them shut and threw up a barrier of silver light.
Something massive hit the other side.
The doors shook. The barrier flickered.
Through the window, I saw it.
A shadow shape, bigger than a horse, with too many limbs and a face that kept shifting between human and monster.
The Shade.
It pressed against the barrier, and I heard its voice—that terrible double-voice:
"I can smell your fear, Lightbringer. Taste your magic. You can't hide anymore. You can't run. Tonight, you're mine."
The barrier cracked.
"Move!" The prince grabbed my hand and pulled me through the palace.
But everywhere we ran, windows shattered. Shadows poured inside.
The Shade wasn't just at the doors anymore.
It was everywhere.
Surrounding us.
We ran up stairs, down hallways, until the prince pulled me into a small room and locked the door.
"This is the panic room," he gasped. "Built by my father. Nothing can get through—"
Scratching started on the door.
Then laughter.
"Nothing?" the Shade mocked. "Oh, little prince. I've been in this palace for seven years. I know every room. Every door. Every weakness."
The scratching got louder.
"There is no safe place. Not from me."
The prince looked at me, and for the first time since I'd met him, I saw fear in his eyes.
"I can't fight it," he said quietly. "The curse made me too weak. My magic isn't enough."
"Then what do we do?"
He stared at me for a long moment.
Then: "You have to use your power. Really use it. It's the only thing strong enough to destroy a Shade."
"But I don't know how! I almost killed myself trying to grow flowers!"
"Then you better learn fast." He moved to stand between me and the door. "Because in about thirty seconds, that door is coming down. And one of us is dying tonight."
The scratching stopped.
Silence.
Then the door exploded inward in a shower of wood and darkness.
And the Shade poured into the room like living night, its eyes fixed on me, its mouth opening impossibly wide