Inside his wing, Nathaniel stood alone at night.
He had dismissed Moira, Tobias…the intercom.
He held the letter from the elders again, carefully reviewing it.
His mind replayed a different thought entirely, on a loop.
When her hands coursed through his hair.
Her voice, whispering, not afraid of him and his burden.
Her body arching toward him without hesitation.
He closed his eyes, breathing in smoke from a lit cigarette. He was not smoking from it, just allowing it to burn like incense. It had been 3 days since she had stayed the night. He crushed the cigarette with his hand in rage, his skin slightly singed by the fire.
He did not allow himself to linger further in the memory.
When he finally lay down, sleep did not come easily.
And when it did, it was not the greatest.
He dreamed of the Sacred Peaks splitting open, Princess Cora standing at the edge of one, where he was, trying to reach for the other peak, where Norman was.
He dreamed of a red light pouring from the sky and staining her skin, and then there was darkness.
Nathaniel woke abruptly, his breath sharp, the sheets twisted in his fists. He was covered in a cold sweat.
His first instinct was to reach out beside him, expecting her to be lying next to him, expecting to protect her from his nightmare.
The space was empty.
He sat upright, contemplating everything. He would not let himself lose control again.
Even with the Blood Moon on his agenda, he would never show weakness again.
Even after the ritual was over.
Whatever that night had been with Cora…It meant nothing.
And in her room, Akhile lay awake, staring at the ceiling that simulated nothing but the stars.
The weight of Nathaniel's final words echoed in her mind.
You're not something I can place on a chessboard.
"Then why does it feel like I am?" she thought.
She turned onto her side, wishing to find him there. There was no one, and there never will be…anyone.
When she opened her eyes, the sky was beaming. It was too perfect.
The maroon dome of Neilelis Industrial stretched overhead in a seamless artificial dusk, a smooth curvature of engineered atmosphere suspended above steel towers and illuminated pipelines.
The city breathed in regulated pulses. Lights blinked in timed sequences along the industrial spine. Somewhere below, machinery turned in endless rhythm, a metallic heartbeat that never slept.
Akhile did not remember leaving her apartment or going outside.
She was seated on one of the upper terraces in the Redcliff estate, a natural deck, where the soil was not soil but a manufactured composite of minerals and other elements.
There were rockeries with vegetables and herbs. Although their existence was entirely controlled and supervised.
Her hands were resting on her lap. But she was not disoriented or anything like that.
Something heavy slid from her shoulders as she shifted from her seat.
It was a jacket.
A dark camouflage jacket with a wool collar.
Akhile faintly remembered Norman wearing one just like it.
The realisation unfolded slowly, like a bruise blooming under her skin.
She quickly got on her feet and noticed that she was also barefoot, her skin touching the manufactured compost soil. That was not odd- the only other thing that was strange besides the jacket was that she was wearing a dress made from Meadowlands silk.
The last time she had worn one of her dresses was when she left the mansion in the Meadowlands. Her wardrobe at Redcliff Estate had ensured hiding her Princess Cora outfits and only ever suggested the trendy industrial fashions.
Footsteps approached without urgency.
She did not react immediately. There was something in her that already understood what was happening.
Norman stopped a few paces behind her.
"You're still here," he said.
His voice was low, but not that surprised.
Akhile lifted her gaze and noticed him closing in.
The maroon light from the sky traced the line of his jaw, caught in the faint reddish copper of his hair. He looked as if he had been standing there for some time, watching not her, waiting for her to retreat.
"What am I doing here?" she asked. Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears.
Norman studied her face carefully, as if measuring for something that might not be visible.
"I wanted to show you what I had been working on in my research garden," he said. Although Norman was looking at her as if she were not a person he recognised.
The words entered her body like cold water.
Akhile's mind retreated as she searched for her memories to corroborate what Norman said.
"But-I don't..." she continued. The jacket that rested on her shoulders fell to the ground.
"You fell asleep on the bench, so I had to go and grab my jacket, so you don't feel cold," said Norman. "I'm sorry but I didn't want to wake you…I thought you looked very peaceful."
There was no challenge in him. Only a strange, restrained tension.
Akhile shook her head and massaged her temples, feeling as if the world was spinning.
"I was in my apartment."
Norman's gaze did not waver. "Cora…are you unwell? Perhaps I should help you back to your apartment wing."
The hum of Neilelis pressed in around them, ventilation currents, transport drones gliding along the air.
Akhile searched her memories again. She remembered lying down, yearning for Nathaniel.
She remembered her cold bed.
She remembered—
Darkness.
There was a seam of absence.
Norman stepped closer, and when the jacket slipped from her shoulders again, he caught it, settling it back into place. His fingers brushed the exposed curve of her collarbone.
Her body reacted before her mind did, rejecting his touch.
"You couldn't sleep, Cora," he continued quietly. "That's why I brought you here."
Her throat tightened.
"I didn't-," she whispered.
Norman's expression shifted, not into anger, but into something heavier.
"You asked me," he said, "what would happen if you chose differently."
Chose differently?
The phrase echoed inside her skull.
"I would remember- why don't I remember all of this," she insisted, though the certainty in her voice was thinning.
Norman exhaled slowly, trying not to confuse her further.
The terrace seemed to contract.
Akhile's fingers lifted toward her temple. It pulsed beneath her touch. The world felt like something she had swallowed without knowing.
"I don't know what you think happened," she said carefully, "but it wasn't me."
Norman held her gaze. A transport drone passed overhead, its shadow moving like a blade across the terrace lights.
Akhile stepped back until the cool surface of the reinforced glass wall met her spine. The city spread beyond it in disciplined symmetry, vertical lines, illuminated corridors, a horizon manufactured.
She caught her reflection, and it looked back at her. Thick hair, olive green eyes, a majestic posture.
Her shoulders lowered slightly. The tension in her jaw eased.
It was not Akhile.
But Princess Cora.
He did not speak immediately.
"You don't have to pretend anymore," he said at last.
The sentence pressed against her like a hand.
"Pretend what?" she demanded, though her voice trembled now.
"That you are going to marry Nathaniel."
Nathaniel.
The name did not need to be spoken.
Her lips did not move. But the expression was not hers. Her gaze caught Norman, staring at her with love in his eyes.
The warmth in them surged and made her heart race.
Norman stretched his arms while standing behind her and wrapped them around her, securing the jacket.
She remained looking at Princess Cora in the reflection, warming up to him and hugging him back.
"Look at me," he said.
She turned around and inclined her eyes to face him.
And for the smallest fraction of a second, she was someone else.
Princess Cora was reclaiming her body.