The Redcliff Estate had finally gone to sleep.
The corridors were silent, as if there had never been signs of human activity. But only the system recalibrating every hour.
Akhile was inside the library again, rummaging through the bookshelves, fear coursing up her spine. This was not the kind of fear that came from suspecting a stranger lurking behind in the darkness, it was much deeper than that. It was much worse, she was afraid of being caught.
The omen had occurred a few days before, when the sky had fractured and repaired again. Some had denied seeing the fracture at all, and some could only whisper and spread the rumours, uncertain of what they saw.
The estate had gone into darkness, and Akhile had gone unconscious. She remembers Nathaniel looking lost, and for the first time, he was not put together and faultless. And when things seemed to be getting back to normal, Akhile began hallucinating about the real Princess Cora.
The one thing Akhile could not control was the blackouts she had been experiencing, stolen moments of her day that she couldn't control. She could wake up in places she had no recollection of getting there in the first place. The Blood Moon, she had to know more about it, about her rebirth, about Princess Cora and her betrothal.
She told herself she would never go back into the library.
Akhile had slipped out of her wing, barefoot, a robe tied tight at her waist. She eased the library doors open and slipped inside. The air was welcoming, gripping her like a breath that had been held too long.
Paper. Dust. Old leather. Whiskey. Silence.
The shelves hovered around her like she was inside a cathedral. Ladders leaned against wood. The desk in the centre of the room held a lamp that was turned off, a lamp that required human hands, not motion sensors.
She went straight to the shelf where she had found the ledger.
It wasn't there.
Akhile's fingers traced over the hollow space as if her touch might conjure its reappearance. No ledger.
She scanned the titles around it, blinking fast, trying to remember what she might have missed.
Redcliff Estate Records: Confidential.
Redcliff Pharma DSMB Charter.
Redcliff Pharma Accounts: First Cycle.
Akhile turned and began searching some more, moving her hands along spines and pulling books out just enough to see if something had been wedged behind them. She opened a cabinet. Then another. She tried some drawers.
The desk had a set of handles, belonging to drawers that stuck out slightly from age. They were unable to close completely.
She yanked one open. It had letters and old photographs in stiff frames.
Nothing.
Her heart began to beat too loudly, her body covered in goosebumps, anxiety coursing through her, like a pipe burst, water purging out with force.
Akhile reached for the ladder and climbed two steps, scanning the higher shelves. The wood creaked under her weight, the sound was too loud, and too sharp in the stillness.
Her body froze. There were footsteps fast approaching.
Akhile didn't think, there was no time for that. She hopped off the ladder and crossed to the side of the room towards some cabinets.
One cabinet door was slightly ajar.
Akhile jumped inside and pulled the door close, leaving a crack open to allow some light in, confining herself in the dusty furniture.
And then the library doors opened. Light spilt in from the corridor, and two figures entered.
It was Nathaniel and Norman. Even in silence, they brought different atmospheres with them.
Norman's voice always seemed to soften a room, even when he was tense. His footsteps were lighter, his breathing louder. A human warmth mechanism that didn't try to pretend it wasn't human.
Nathaniel moved with certainty. Like he knew the world belonged to him. His voice cut through the darkness with his sharp choice.
"The Elders have sent a letter," he said.
Akhile pressed a hand to her mouth in the cupboard, not entirely sure if she should be eavesdropping, without guaranteed permission. This was two strikes in a single night: snooping in the library after being warned against it, and now, she was learning about a secret letter from her own kingdom.
Obviously, if this information came from the Elders, it required her knowledge, as the only surviving monarch of the Meadowlands.
Norman's voice followed, lower. "So, are they worried?"
"They have to be," Nathaniel replied. "They just prefer to call it otherwise."
There was a pause. Akhile could only imagine them standing near the desk, the way Nathaniel always did, his posture straightened, hands stuffed in his pockets. And Norman, with his arms folded, leaning slightly as if gravity pressed on him and he refused to let it.
"What did it say?" Norman asked.
Nathaniel's voice rumbled out of his throat, delivering the news.
"That we need to prepare for the Blood Moon."
Norman exhaled. It sounded like anger restrained into breath. "What do you call such a message?"
"It doesn't matter what it's called," Nathaniel said. "The omen happened. They saw it. We saw it. And this is the last cycle."
"And if we rush things?" Norman's voice sharpened. "If we rush and we lose her?"
"We won't," Nathaniel said, certainty stitched into every syllable.
Norman fell silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, heavier.
"You're sure of her. But are you sure of him?"
Akhile's blood rushed, her body cold.
Him.
There was only one of him who could make Norman speak like that.
Their father.
Nathaniel didn't answer right away.
When he did, the words were clipped. "Our father does not control the narrative. He will ensure that this happens without any hindrances."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Norman said. "He doesn't ensure results. He forces them."
The sound of a chair scraped softly. Someone had taken a seat, while the other remained standing.
Norman lowered his voice. "It's getting worse, Nate. You know it."
Nathaniel didn't respond with surprise.
Norman continued, his voice tight, as if contained at the bottom of a reservoir. "And she deserves to know what she's marrying into."
Silence stretched long enough that Akhile's lungs began to ache, and her breath was burning from inhaling dust.
Then Nathaniel said something very softly, almost too softly: "Whatever you are thinking of doing, don't."
The chair scraped again. It was Norman.
"I'm not doing anything," Norman replied. "I'm just tired of acting like this is normal."
Nathaniel's voice sharpened, but not too loudly. "Normal doesn't matter."
Norman's breath came out harshly. "And she matters too."
Akhile pressed her forehead against the cupboard wood. But she stayed hidden. Norman moved toward the doors. Akhile could hear his footsteps crossing the room. He paused.
"I'm going to bed," he said. "Try not to make her hate you, but that would be to my benefit."
Nathaniel's response was dry. "You assume I care if she hates me?"
Akhile flinched.
Norman didn't answer.
The library doors opened again and closed.
Norman was gone. And the library was left with only one man. Nathaniel didn't move for a long moment. Akhile could hear him breathing.
Then, without looking in her direction, Nathaniel spoke. "You can come out now."
Akhile's entire body went stiff. He couldn't have meant her.
Nathaniel turned his head slightly, gaze drifting toward the cupboard as if he could see through wood.
"I said," he repeated, voice calm, "you can come out, Cora."
Akhile swallowed, pulse hammering. Her fingers shook as she pushed the cupboard door open.
She stepped out slowly like an animal emerging into a fight.
Nathaniel stood by the desk, exactly where she imagined. Crisp shirt and wide shoulders, hair slicked back. His presence made the room feel smaller.
They shared looks. He didn't seem angry. That was worse.
Akhile lifted her chin, the old instinct of defiance rising. "Please don't be mad, I think I was sleepwalking," she whispered.
Nathaniel broke into a laugh, the deep roar echoing within the walls.
Akhile's jaw tightened. "I know you said I need permission."
Nathaniel didn't answer immediately. Instead, he walked to the desk and opened the top drawer, the same drawer she had searched earlier.
He pulled out the ledger. Just like that.
As if the library had been a stage and she had been running in circles within it, forgetting that he had built the set.
Nathaniel placed the ledger on the desk with care. Then he pulled out a chair and waited.
"Have a seat."
Akhile didn't move, holding her breath. "No."
Nathaniel's gaze lifted. "You want answers?"
"Yes," she said, voice tight.
"Then ask me nicely." His mouth curved into a smile. The authority in his tone was stern.
Akhile moved slowly, barefoot and cold, and sat next to Nathaniel. She wouldn't say what he asked of her, as that would go against her being.
For a moment, they were framed by dark shelves and shadows, like a painting portraying a peace treaty.
He didn't open the ledger yet. He studied her face instead, infatuated by her defiance. Nathaniel was impressed by her defiance. It made his blood hot.
"You're shaking," he observed.
"I'm fine," she lied.
Nathaniel's eyes went briefly to her temple, as if he could sense it pounding. Then he locked eyes with her.
"Are you afraid?" he asked.
Akhile scoffed. "No."
Nathaniel's expression didn't change. "That's a lie."
Akhile swallowed hard. Her throat felt tight. "Just tell me...tell me everything."
Nathaniel opened the ledger.
He didn't turn pages dramatically. He didn't make it theatrical. He went straight to what mattered, as if he had memorised where the truth lived.
Akhile's fingers curled against her lap.
Nathaniel's gaze stayed on the page, and he nodded once. "The Sacred Peaks. TheMeadowlands. The thing your elders speak of as if it is a myth."
Akhile's heart beat louder. "Yes?"
"The Redcliffs are not just a pharmaceutical dynasty. That is what we built on the surface."Nathaniel continued, each sentence placed like a stone. His fingers tapped the ledger. "Underneath that, we are what we have always been."
Akhile's voice came out thin. "Which is?"
Nathaniel's eyes didn't soften.
"Sharman," he said. "And Necromancers."
Akhile felt cold, a hole in her stomach.
Nathaniel watched her reaction, not with amusement, but with a stillness that felt like he was measuring whether she would break.
"Necromancy," he continued, "Listen, I don't know how to explain it."
Akhile forced her voice steady. "I can handle it."
Nathaniel's gaze dropped back to the ledger.
"It's an inheritance," he said. "It runs through our line of male heirs."
Akhile remembered the way Norman had looked when he spoke about their father—the weight in his eyes. The words were like a burden on his existence.
"And the Sharman?" she asked.
Nathaniel's voice lowered. "The Sharman is the one who governs the Necromancy. He gets to decide who inherits the Necromancy...It's complicated, you have to experience it to understand."
Akhile's chest tightened. She didn't want to say it, but it came out anyway.
"Your father. Is he the Sharman?"
Nathaniel's gaze lifted sharply. "Yes."
Akhile's fingers dug into her palms.
"So, this marriage," she whispered. "This betrothal…"
Nathaniel's jaw flexed once and tightened. "It is his doing."
Akhile stared at him. "But why?"
Nathaniel's eyes held hers.
"To protect the Meadowlands," he said.
"To protect the barrier," he continued. "To ensure the Meadowlands remain protected. To ensure our bloodline of Sharman continues."
Akhile's mouth went dry.
He turned one more page. "But there are consequences," he said finally. "Consequences your elders will not describe to you in full because they don't have the language for it. They are only human."
"And your father," she said slowly, "he's the one making sure it happens?"
Nathaniel's gaze sharpened. "He will ensure this comes to pass."
"He controls the Blood Moon, doesn't he?"
Nathaniel's eyes flickered like something in him reacted to that sentence, their orange colour like a flame ignited.
"Are you afraid?" he asked again.
Akhile swallowed. She wanted to say yes. She wanted to admit she was terrified, that her entire second life was turning into a dark torment.
But she looked at him, at the way he sat there, controlled, holding a truth he had carried alone, and she realised something that made her chest ache:
He hadn't told her because he enjoyed control. He hadn't told her because he was scared she would run.
"You should've told me sooner," she whispered.
Nathaniel didn't deny it.
In her old life, she had worked to death because of the demands people made, and no one ever asked what her body needed. No one ever offered her the truth that she was indispensable. No one ever treated her like someone who mattered enough to be trusted.
Now, in this dark library, with the estate asleep and the world pressing in, Nathaniel had placed the truth in front of her like an offering, giving her autonomy.
Nathaniel watched her closely. "Now...are you afraid?" he asked again, quieter now.
Akhile stared at him.
And something in her chest cracked open. It was not lust first, but emotion. A strange ache of finally being seen.
"No, I am not afraid," she said, wafering her voice. It wasn't a lie this time.
Nathaniel's gaze held hers as if he didn't quite believe she would stay. He wanted her to stay.
"Good," he murmured, his voice constricted. He cleared his throat.
Then…The lights went out!
Another blackout.