Delia felt a gust of unease as she grabbed the empty basket by the kitchen door, ready to fill it with several bottles of wine for Daniela. Her task was simple enough, but her mind lingered on Kyia. The redhead's cruel streak was undeniable, and her departure from the library felt more like an exile than a reprieve.

The young maid shuddered to think about what the brunette was going through right now. It was a psychological tactic taken straight from Cassandra's playbook. Isolate the servants and torture them alone, one by one. The others would be exhausted from the mental stress of imagining what their friends were suffering, all while awaiting their turn as well.

She shook her head as she stepped forward, crossing the threshold as the scent of raw meat overtook her nostrils. Delia moved toward the wine rack, pretending not to notice Luana and Sorina's brief glances in her direction. She began to inspect the labels on the bottles, searching for the specific vintages that Daniela preferred.

"Delia, what a surprise," Luana said, breaking the silence with a soft gaze. "What brings you here?"

Delia straightened her posture but didn't turn around. "Daniela wants more wine."

"We haven't seen you in a few days," Sorina remarked, moving slightly closer to Luana as she spoke quietly. The thin girl curled her fingers as she laid them across her sharp cheekbones, her eyes wide and her brow furrowed. "We were beginning to get worried."

Delia took a breath as she nodded and continued reaching for the next bottle of wine to take with her. "I am here. I am well."

"Daniela's in a mood tonight, isn't she?" Luana continued, her voice light but probing. "You often don't come for wine when there is nothing of trouble in that library." The chef did not wish to allow her voice to grow any louder. She rarely ever conversed about the Dimitrescu family, lest their ears picked up on her words. However, there was something about Delia's demeanor that piqued her concern.

"She's her usual self," Delia replied curtly.

"And Kyia?" Luana asked. "How's she holding up? She is with you in there now, yes?"

Delia turned, clutching the neck of a bottle in her hand. "Why do you ask?"

Luana shrugged, her expression guarded. It was almost as if she didn't know which approach to take. "I just wanted to know."

Delia's grip on the bottle tightened. "She's doing her best." After hearing everything that Kyia had to say about the two, she couldn't help but feel annoyed that they were asking about her. It betrayed Delia's common sense to indulge in that sort of emotion without a proper investigation, but she believed Kyia's stories.

It was a natural reaction at this point, and nobody could fight nature.

Sorina shifted her eyes between Luana and Delia, looking ever the more worried as she did so. "Has she… been causing you problems?"

Delia frowned, placing the bottle in her basket and squinting her brow. "What's that supposed to mean?" Confrontation wasn't like her, but something about Sorina's question irked the maid. In a way, it felt as though the cook was attacking the only other person in the castle who understood her.

"Uhm…" Sorina stalled on her words, looking back at Luana for some guidance. "I don't know how to say this, but… Kyia can be very harsh."

Delia shook her head. "I don't know why you would say that."

Sorina's eyes then stayed on Luana.

"She held a knife to me," the blonde said in return, hoping to get the point across immediately. "If that isn't putting it bluntly enough, then I don't know. We just want to know if you're okay, since you've been trapped in there with her."

Delia blinked, caught off guard. "Trapped? Luana, I'm sorry, but I don't think so. She hasn't shown any sign that she would do such a thing."

"Delia, are you serious?" Luana's tone was still neutral, but the shock in her voice would not go unheard. "Kyia threatened me and then tried to lie to cover her tracks. She's manipulative, and she's dangerous."

"That's not true," Delia replied as she set the basket down beside her feet. "Are you sure that she just didn't happen to wave the knife around in her hand incidentally as she spoke to you?"

"What?" Luana's brow raised as she moved across the table to speak with her. "Is that what she told you she did? That is a blatant lie! She put the tip of it right against my throat." The maid pressed her forefinger at the base of her neck. "Right here!"

"She's lying to you," Sorina said, cupping her hands at her chest. "Kyia wants to make people feel sorry for her. You saw the way she acted right before they sent her into this kitchen. She drummed up some lie about how she had these high standards of cooking, but when she got here, she didn't know a thing. It was all a show."

Delia could feel the frustration burning in her chest. She didn't know why it was there. Maybe it was the tears that Kyia had shed that cemented themselves in her mind. The hurt in the brunette's voice could not have been an act. Not at all. "You don't know what she's been through. Daniela's tormenting her, and you two got her sent there. As much as I wanted company, I never wanted another servant to have to suffer what I've suffered in there. Whether you and Kyia fought or not... You got her sent there."

Luana stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. "And you don't know what we've been through with her. Kyia is going to get someone killed. The moment she can, she will sacrifice you to Daniela, just so she can slip by. I've never met a single maid who is that selfish. All she ever did was resent us, despite how much we tried to keep her safe."

"She's not like that to me," Delia shot back. "She's scared, just like I was and still am. I can't see her being this completely different person to you guys for absolutely no reason."

Sorina joined Luana at that instant. "Delia, please, let's not be like this. What has Kyia been telling you?"

Delia stared at her in disbelief. "Kyia's been nothing but polite to me. It doesn't matter what she's said, and the fact that you're asking me this does not sit well with me."

"Polite?" Luana tilted her head with the widest glare possible. "She's manipulating you, Delia. Open your eyes. You're already being hostile, and this is never like you. Has she been saying things about us that—"

Delia's hands balled into fists at her sides. "Maybe you're the ones who need to open your eyes. You don't see what Daniela's doing to her—what she's putting her through. I've watched her get insulted and hit for no reason. And do you know what she does after? She just stays quiet. When we're alone, she cries, and she holds my hand, telling me that she wants to do better."

The kitchen fell silent for a moment, the tension between them denser than metal. Delia's gaze flickered between Luana and Sorina, her heart pounding. She didn't expect them to understand, but their hostility felt like a betrayal. There was no question that one side was lying. But Delia started to think that maybe these two girls she had worked with over these months were no longer the same people she had thought them to be.

Yes, Kyia may have been very new, and Delia had only gotten to know her over the last few days, but the consistency in her actions was not to be ignored. In hindsight, Luana and Sorina were only ever seen in passing. There was no telling what would occur if they were in a room for a prolonged period. If Kyia was so friendly, yet managed to be at odds with them in some way, then was it possible that these two were the source of the drama?

Luana finally broke the silence. "Delia, we are trying to warn you. Do not believe anything she says. Do not trust her."

Delia clenched her jaw, biting back a retort. She turned on her heel, grabbing the basket of wine and heading for the door. As she reached the threshold, Sorina called after her. "Delia, wait!"

Delia didn't respond. She walked briskly down the hall, her thoughts a whirlwind of frustration and doubt. She hated herself for having shown any sign of anger, as this was indeed not like her at all. But there was another part of her that wanted to act on her own. While she could not be certain about what went down in that kitchen, she was not inclined to believe in Luana's words.

How could Kyia— a maid as kind and soft as she could imagine— be someone who was so prone to aggression and violence? It made no sense.

But because they were tossed together, Delia felt a connection to her. It was likely that it was the same situation with Luana and Sorina. If that was the case, then why wouldn't they side with each other? Delia wanted the truth, but she couldn't trust that there wasn't a bias at play. It was inevitable that there would be one on her end as well, and so, she'd have to default to the only thing she knew—a kind friend who depended on her support.

It was the nature of the beast.

The Library

Kyia hesitated, her grip on the dust cloth tightening. She considered lying, spinning some vague tale that would satisfy Daniela's curiosity, but wasn't sure if the psychotic noblewoman could see through this one. "I did," she said at last. "I had a child."

Daniela's eyes gleamed with amusement, and she leaned forward in her chair, resting her chin on her hand. "A child? How... quaint. And where is this child now, I wonder?"

Kyia said nothing, her gaze fixed on a point just beyond Daniela's shoulder. That thousand-yard stare said it all, even if it lasted for just a second or two.

Daniela's smile widened, her tone dripping with mockery. "Ah, let me guess. Not here, obviously. Perhaps they're at the bottom of a river somewhere, floating lifelessly along. Buried underground, if not?"

Kyia's heart clenched, but she didn't react. She kept her face neutral, refusing to give Daniela the satisfaction of seeing her pain.

Daniela giggled, her laughter echoing in the cavernous library. "How tragic. But then, it's no surprise. You don't exactly strike me as the motherly type."

The cloth in Kyia's hand trembled as her fingers clenched it tightly. Beneath her calm exterior, a fire burned. The words stung, dredging up memories she had fought hard to bury. But remaining silent was just as painful as enduring whatever insults would likely come next. She figured that she would regret this later, but there was no other option besides playing this sick, twisted little game.

"She's dead," Kyia said. "My child is dead."

Daniela's expression shifted, a flicker of interest crossing her face. "Dead, is she? How convenient for you to have no ties, no responsibilities." She leaned back in her chair, studying Kyia with predatory eyes. "Still, I wonder—was it negligence, or were you simply unfit for the role?"

Kyia's gaze sharpened, her stomach twisting with rage. She felt her hand grow warm, a familiar heat spreading through her palm. A faint glow sparked at her fingertips, imperceptible but its presence enough to make her glance down. It was a sign—a hint that her long-dormant powers were stirring, though not nearly enough to act on. Not yet.

Was it anger that could bring them back?

Daniela smirked, oblivious to the subtle change in Kyia's demeanor. "Go on, then," she said, her tone dripping with disdain. "Back to your dusting. You're no good for anything else."

Kyia's jaw tightened, but she nodded, keeping her head low. "Yes, Miss Daniela."

Turning away, she moved back toward the shelves, her steps calculated. Her hands trembled as she resumed her task, dusting the rows of books. The fawn balanced her thoughts between her dearly departed Kalennia and the onset of warmth that she had just conjured. It was so difficult to concentrate on removing the dirt from the books as she did so.

All she wanted to do was set this entire library ablaze.

Behind her, Daniela's laughter rang out again. Kyia kept her head down as her mind raced. The warmth in her hand lingered, a reminder that she wasn't as powerless as Daniela believed. She tried harder to shift that warmth into a ferocious flame, but her powers did not advance. It was a notable change, but one that she could not utilize—at least right now.

For now, she would endure.

Daniela watched Kyia from her seat, smirking as she contemplated what to do next. Her book lay forgotten in her lap as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the armrests.

"Tell me, Kyia," Daniela began with a feigned sweetness, "what exactly is it that you hope to accomplish here? Do you think that if you keep your head down long enough, you'll find some semblance of peace? Is being in a library better than being in some loud kitchen?"

Kyia continued dusting. "I'm only doing what is asked of me, Miss Daniela," she replied quietly. "I am here to serve the Dimitrescu family. It is my duty."

Daniela let out a sharp laugh, the sound grating against Kyia's nerves. "Of course, you are. Like a good little doll. But I wonder, Kyia, how long will it be before you break?" She let out a giggle at that moment, those amber eyes picking her target apart, piece by piece. "We're here alone, and we have all the time in the world."

The redhead's voice then morphed into a whimsical tone as she repeated her last phrase again. "All the time… in the world."

Kyia paused for a moment, gripping the edge of a shelf to steady herself.

"Do you think about your child often?" Daniela asked, her voice soft but venomous. "Do you dream of what could have been, of a life that was never meant to be? Or do you simply try to forget, knowing it's your fault they're gone?"

Kyia froze, and the warmth in her hand returned, faint but insistent, as if her body was reacting to the emotional onslaught. She swallowed hard, refusing to give Daniela the satisfaction of a response. If only a flash of blue could present itself right now, she thought.

Daniela tilted her head, studying Kyia with mock curiosity. "No answer? How disappointing. But then, I suppose there's no need to dwell on the past. It's not as if you can change it."

For a moment, Kyia thought she felt the fire within her flicker brighter, but she suppressed it, unwilling to risk exposing herself.

Then, without warning, Daniela stopped mid-sentence. Her head tilted slightly, and her gaze grew unfocused, as if she were staring at something far away.

Kyia turned her head as well, watching as Daniela's expression shifted. Her usual glare of hunger had dulled, and she sat frozen, her lips parted but silent. The redhead stared off into space, as if she had been shut off.

The library was eerily quiet, the only sound the faint rustle of Kyia's cloth against the shelves. She watched Daniela carefully, her own breathing shallow as she tried to make sense of what was happening.

For a long moment, Daniela remained still, her eyes vacant. Then, as if snapping out of a trance, she blinked and straightened, her gaze refocusing on her surroundings.

She picked up her book without a word and flipped to where she believed that she had left off. It was as if nothing had happened, as if the strange pause in her torment was a figment of Kyia's imagination.

Kyia slowly continued her work. Daniela's lapse had been brief, but it was enough to plant a seed of thought in her mind. If her tormentor's mind was as sharp as her sickle, then what could have caused that moment of disconnection?

Kyia knew she was far from powerful enough to confront her tormentor directly, but perhaps there was another way to exploit what she had seen. As Daniela read her book, seemingly absorbed by the pages, the fawn's gaze moved toward her occasionally.

If Daniela could falter once, Kyia thought, she could falter again.

The only question was—what could be gained?

The Village

The sun tried its best to pierce through the dense clouds, but its golden rays could barely shine through the dreary barriers. Flakes of snow slowly trickled down from the sky as the afternoon pressed on, continuing to coat the ground in white. Nestled away from the cold, Narratha and Marco had just finished the last page of the Superman story.

"That was amazing!" Marco exclaimed, clutching the comic book tightly to his chest. "I wish I could be like him."

Narratha chuckled softly, her hand brushing a stray tassel of hair away from her face. "You have so much energy. I doubt that even this Superman would be able to match it."

Marco looked up at her, his excitement briefly dimming as he noticed the lengthening shadows. His expression turned worried, and he glanced toward the direction of his home. "Oh no... I didn't realize how late it is! My father's going to want me back!"

Narratha placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Go on, then. Don't keep him waiting."

The boy nodded, clutching the comic as he got to his feet. "Thank you, Narratha. For reading with me. I'm going to try to get back outside later, if you will still be working."

"Of course," she said. "I will still be working until nightfall, just as usual."

"Goodbye for now!" Marco then said, giving her a broad smile before he turned and ran to return home. The redhead continued to watch as he scampered off, his small figure disappearing into the distance.

Once he was out of sight, Narratha sighed, returning to her tasks. She gripped the handles of her wheelbarrow, still loaded with bundles of firewood, and continued her rounds through the village. Each stop brought her to a different household, where silent and seemingly ungrateful villagers took the logs out without a glance cast her way.

Narratha couldn't help but feel a wave of rage swell inside her chest. Her resentment towards these people was growing. They reminded her so much of how the poils were to the fawns. As soon as she could regain her powers, they would know the true cost of their indifference. While some like Elena may have earned her favor, that did not mean that her opinion would completely change.

If these people hated her—then she hated them.

As she turned down a narrow path toward another home, a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks. She already knew who it was, which made the speed at which she turned around even slower.

"Ah, my dear Narratha. How fortunate we are to cross paths again."

She looked up to see the Duke seated in his massive carriage, parked just off the path. His eyes twinkled with a mix of amusement as he greeted her with a wide smile. The merchant always had something on his mind, it seemed. Whatever it was, she wasn't in the mood for any jokes.

"Duke," she said, inclining her head slightly. "What is it now?"

"Oh, you know me," he said, gesturing dramatically to the wares arranged in his cart. "I am but a humble merchant, always seeking the next opportunity to make a deal. Now, tell me—do you have coin?"

Narratha's brow furrowed. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the small handful that had been given to her by Elena. She had not forgotten about their earlier arrangement, and the brunette's act of kindness may have given her just enough to afford what she needed.

The Duke's smile lengthened, as if he had already anticipated her answer. "Ah, wonderful. I have something you might be interested in."

He reached beneath his seat and pulled out a familiar object: her sword. Its blade gleamed in the fading light, and the sight of it sent a ring of readiness through her chest. She wanted that tool.

"I believe this once belonged to you," he said, holding it up for her to see. "A fine weapon, indeed. Yours again—for the right price."

Narratha took a step forward, her gaze fixed on the sword. "Here!" She laid the coins onto the small table beneath his large feet. As her emerald eyes fixated on the item that she had used to kill multiple people in the past, the only thing Narratha could think about was the possibility that some of her energy lay dormant within its confines.

Metal had been known to house fawn powers when exposed to such high levels of concentration. Negligible amounts, most of the time, but possibly enough to maybe reignite what she had previously lost. If the Dagger of Death's Flowers could truly hold a vast array of magic, then why not this?

"Ah!" The Duke nodded as his eyes settled on the coins provided. "That may be sufficient. Before I give this to you, are you certain that there is nothing else that you would prefer instead?"

"No!" She spoke with urgency, desperate to take hold of that weapon and focus her concentration on conjuring up her fire. If she could muster a single flame, then surely the rest would follow. Fawn powers were like a catalyst to themselves. One spark could create an inferno if a sea of energy resided within their veins.

But as she beckoned the sharp instrument into her possession, her eyes wandered to the Duke's other wares, and something else caught her attention: another comic book. This one featured Superman yet again. It was unmistakable. The blue outfit and the red cape. There was nothing else like it.

Narratha's hand slowly settled down as she parted her lips. The sword brought along images of the potential to kill Miranda and the other lords. The redhead wanted nothing more than to litter this village with flames and escape this wretched valley entirely.

But looking at the comic... she thought of Marco's smile, the joy it had brought him earlier.

The Duke noticed her hesitation and leaned forward, his voice low and teasing. "Decisions, decisions. Tell me, Narratha, is this comic more important to you than your sword?"

She looked at him sharply, then back at the comic. "No," she said firmly. "The sword is what I need. Do not waste my time."

The Duke chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. She hated how this was a game to him. If she could plant that sword into his throat right now, then that would be a blessing. "I told you that there are three ways for you to get out of here. That sword is one of them."

"Oh…" Her sinister grin broadened as those freckled cheeks of hers rose. "I know."

There was a slight twinkle in his eye, as if he had somehow anticipated her answer. "I never told you that there are two kinds of freedom that you can discover here."

With a groan, she rolled her eyes and extended her arm once again in a demanding fashion. "Enough of your riddles! I do not care! We made a deal, and you will give me my sword back!"

"Very well, then." The Duke continued to tease her with a chuckle, diminishing the image of a vicious murderer that she tried so hard to convey. "Let us conclude our transaction."

He placed the sword in her hands, and her first instinct was to try and draw out as much energy as she could. The metal was as cold as the wind around her, but the faint trickles of warmth from deep inside were unmistakable. There was still some power left inside—but was it enough?

Narratha shut her eyes and concentrated as hard as she could, but as she tried, the Duke's words once again spoke out to her. It broke her focus, but for a different reason. "The customer is always right, aren't they?"

Her teeth flashed as she glared at him. "Stop… talking."

...

As Marco wandered around the village, his little eyes bounced around in all directions. Narratha was nowhere to be found. This was her usual spot where she would sort out the piles of wood. Even her wheelbarrow was where it should have been, but what about her?

The redhead could have been tasked with something else to do instead, but her absence sent a string of worry across his heart. What if she had indeed been punished by Heisenberg or Miranda?

Worse—what if she had grown tired of him and simply walked away?

The fragile young boy removed his hands from his coat pockets and nervously began to pick at the skin along his nails. His brow furrowed as the sharp wind stung his cheeks. He didn't want to turn around and go back home. It was better to just stay outside—as usual.

Still, his mind raced with so many thoughts. They caused his anxiety to rise, and for a moment, the kid stood frozen in place. He mumbled under his breath, "I'm sorry if I bothered you."

Suddenly, a hand found itself firmly on his shoulder. He jolted at that instant, but as soon as his frightened eyes reared up and gazed at who it was that had touched him, his fear immediately gave way to comfort and joy.

"Narratha! You're back!"

"Of course," she answered with a smile. "I keep my promises when I can. Come." She guided him back to where the wheelbarrow was, motioning for him to stand beside it. Concealed as much as they could have been, Narratha crouched down and met the boy at eye level as the faint rustle of the wind danced through the trees.

The fawn inhaled a slow breath before she reached into her blouse, carefully removing something that had been carefully secured inside a plastic envelope. "I wanted to give you this."

It was the Superman comic.

His eyes widened in disbelief. "Wait! Is that another Superman book? Is that... for me?"

She nodded. "Consider it a gift."

Marco let out a squeal of excitement, grabbing the comic with both hands and clutching it to his chest. He threw his arms around her, his small frame pressing against her side. "You're the best, Narratha! Thank you so much!"

Her chest tightened as she felt his arms around her, his happiness so pure and unfiltered. This was the kind of thing that could not be faked. No matter how depressing this place was or how troubled the little boy appeared at times, there was no doubt that he was truly overjoyed with her act. She hesitated for a moment, then wrapped one arm around him, patting his back awkwardly.

"You are most welcome, Marco."

Marco's voice could be heard in her ear once again as their heads connected, her bundles of bushy, red hair covering his face. It was absent of the immense glee that he had just expressed. Instead, it was something so direct that it had circumvented all other thought, remaining true to heart. "I wish you were my mom."

That was when her fingers clenched the back of his coat. She didn't even realize just how close she had pulled him. With her knee pressed onto the snow, Narratha ignored the cold dampness that set in through the fabric of her gown. She could not utter a single word.

She was too choked up to do so. The tears that silently flowed down her cheeks dried up amidst the cold air, but more just kept coming.

To be told such a thing was something that she had never prepared herself for, and her reaction was one that she could never control. In that moment—for the first time in ten years—all her anger had vanished.

The Library

Daniela had sent Delia on yet another trivial errand, leaving Kyia alone yet again. However, this time, the dreaded redhead had also vacated the library in pursuit of whatever it was that she craved. The absence of her tormentor was a small reprieve, but it was no comfort. She had been left to her own devices—which meant that her own mind had taken up the mantle of being her abuser. It was wracked with so many thoughts of escape and revenge that it nearly drove the fawn to the brink of insanity.

She was stressed, and she wanted to get out of this place. It was just like Serpenmoor all over again, but at least the people there were not cannibalistic beasts. They could be rational and even swayed when the moment came down to it, but the Dimitrescu family was something else.

Kyia glanced around the cluttered room, replaying the snippets of information she'd gathered during her time here. The note about the Dagger of Death's Flowers lingered in her thoughts. It was indeed somewhere inside this castle, and she needed to find it.

What was the connection between the dagger and the Dimitrescus? How could she reach the attic where the note had been found? And, more importantly, what lay beyond that might be of use to her?

Narratha was still out there, and Kyia hoped that the woman would soon return with further information. The freckled fawn was her link to the outside world. Kyia could not forget that there were other lords just outside these castle walls; beings just like Alcina, who wielded a strange assortment of powers.

Mother Miranda was also at the top of her list as well. The way that those four freaks bent their knees to her like a god signaled that the blonde's power had to be immeasurable. There were so many missing facts at play here. Were they somehow linked to the dagger, or were they a part of a different source of power entirely?

Kyia's mind erred toward the latter, and that was what worried her tremendously.

A sudden knock on the library door snapped her out of her thoughts. She abruptly paused as her green stare shifted toward the entrance. Through her thin pink lips, her breath stalled. Another knock followed, soft but insistent. It wasn't Daniela, nor any of her siblings. It had to be one of the maids.

She approached the door and opened it cautiously, still uncertain of what kind of danger was nearby. Standing there, sure enough, was Sofia, holding a silver tray with a covered dish.

"Good afternoon, Kyia," Sofia said with a polite smile. "I brought you lunch. Miss Daniela instructed me to ensure that you ate." It was the same routine that the brunette had partaken in with Delia—only now, she was the maid who was being offered a break.

Kyia forced a warm expression onto her face, hiding the resentment that boiled beneath. Interacting with anyone meant that the emotions inside her heart would risk spilling over. She needed to keep herself as neutral as possible. "Thank you, Sofia."

Sofia stepped inside, placing the tray on a nearby table. Her gaze wandered across the room, and she frowned slightly. "It's such a large space to clean by yourself. Do you need help while you eat?"

Kyia hesitated, but then nodded. "If you're offering, I won't say no. It's a lot to keep up with."

Sofia retrieved a second duster from a nearby supply cart and began to get to work while the fawn casually approached the tray of food. Kyia lifted the top, gazing at the strange assortment of meat and vegetables. Ever since she had arrived in this realm, the meals here failed to sit well within her stomach. She barely ate, which left her feeling a constant sense of hunger and weakness.

"Sofia," Kyia began, taking a bite out of the bread that had been provided alongside it, "do you remember the note you found in the attic? The one about the dagger?"

Sofia glanced at her, her brow furrowing slightly. "I do. Why?"

Kyia shrugged. "It's just been on my mind. Something about it seemed... interesting. How did you even get to the attic in the first place again?"

Sofia paused, considering the question. "Miss Cassandra led me there, just like I had told you. I wasn't supposed to be up there on my own. It's off limits."

Kyia set her food down, giving Sofia her full attention. "I understand, but I've yet to see this attic for myself. I've overheard some stories about this castle and the artifacts that it holds. Pity that I never speak to many of the other maids, but to be honest with you, old relics have always been an interest to me. I think it is the only thing that might keep me sane right now."

Sofia bit her lip, her gaze distant as she tried to recall the details. Kyia's explanation sat well with her. It was no secret that the story of the dagger was mythical in nature. Why wouldn't a troubled servant wish to hold out some hope in something so rooted in fantasy? "Well, we went through a door on this level, to the right." She gestured vaguely in the direction of the far side of the library. "It led to a room with a huge painting. Miss Cassandra had me close my eyes before we went further."

"Close your eyes?" Kyia asked, her curiosity piqued. "Why?"

Sofia shrugged. "I don't know. But while my eyes were closed, I heard bells ringing. When I opened them again, the painting had moved, and there was a staircase behind it leading up. Granted, the bells were everywhere in the room, so I don't know why she had me close my eyes. There must have been something else that she did to get that painting to move."

Kyia raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "That's all it took? Ringing some bells and whatever else to move the painting?"

Sofia nodded. "It sounds simple, but nothing in this castle ever is. There are puzzles everywhere, meant to keep us from going where we don't belong."

Kyia considered this carefully. The Dimitrescus' paranoia was both a hindrance and an opportunity. Puzzles and secret mechanisms could be bypassed with the right knowledge, and Sofia had just handed her a key piece of information. Still, she could not begin to imagine just what other kinds of secrets lay guarded within the confines of this massive fortress.

"So, the attic is accessible from this floor," Kyia mused aloud, more to herself than to Sofia.

"Yes," Sofia replied, her tone cautious. She already sensed Kyia's intentions. "But I wouldn't go looking for it if I were you. The lady of the house doesn't take kindly to disobedience, Kyia. The note I read gave no information about the dagger. It's just a story. I don't want to see you get hurt because of it. It's not worth it."

Kyia offered a small smile, even if she didn't wish to hear the misinformed babble that Sofia offered. "Of course not. I wouldn't dream of it. I'm just curious, that's all. I sort of love mysteries, you know?" She let out a fake chuckle. "Even as I get older, I still turn an eye to the unknown."

Sofia gave her a skeptical look but said nothing more as she continued her work, the conversation trailing off as the minutes passed. As the maid dusted, Kyia's mind raced. She now had a lead, albeit a risky one. If she could find the room with the painting, she might be able to figure out how to access the attic on her own. The only problem was that Sofia seemed to have been suspicious of her intentions.

Would that mean that she would sell her out to one of the Dimitrescu daughters or that horrible tall woman that they called Mother? Unlike Delia, she and Sofia had only conversed a handful of times and were barely acquaintances, even if Sofia would reply with enthusiasm. Kyia figured that trust would have to be established quickly; otherwise, the girl would only see her as a reckless threat to the safety of the rest of the staff.

Ironic, Kyia thought, how right she could be.

Eventually, Sofia set her duster down and glanced at the clock. "I should get back to my duties before someone notices I've been gone too long. You've eaten some of your food. Will you be all right on your own?"

"I'll manage," Kyia said, forcing a grateful tone into her voice. "Thank you for the help—and the lunch."

Sofia smiled faintly. "Take care, Kyia."

"Oh, wait!" The slender fawn waved her down just before her hand touched the door handle. "I just wanted to say thank you for everything that you've done for me since I first got here. I know it isn't much, but having somebody to talk to has been lovely. It helps get my mind off... off everything, and I really appreciate it."

"Of course," Sofia said with a genuine smile. "I think we all need someone to check in on us from time to time. I am happy that I met you, Kyia. Please, just be careful. That is all I ask."

"You don't have to worry about me," she replied. "I just want to do well here; that is all."

"You will. Stay well, my friend." Hook. Line. Sinker.

With that, Sofia left the library, leaving Kyia alone once more.

Her hands trembled slightly. It was not from fear, but from anticipation. A plan was beginning to take shape in her mind, and every piece of information she gathered brought her one step closer to its fruition.

Locwitary – 512 years before Cassandra's arrival

The forest stretched endlessly around them as Renilvo scanned the branches for ripe fruits. Behind him, Kyia trudged along with her arms crossed, her patience already wearing thin. She wasn't sure why she had agreed to come with him, but now she was deeply regretting it. They had already been walking for the last twenty minutes, and the fawn wanted nothing more than to leave. It was supposed to be a short trip, but the man still had yet to pick anything.

"You really enjoy wasting time, don't you?" Kyia muttered, watching him pause to inspect a cluster of hanging fruit that had finally shown up.

Renilvo glanced back at her with a smirk. "Wasting time? I wanted to make you and your friends some food, so wouldn't it be productive?"

"I don't need you to pick fruits for me. I can do that myself and within a minute," she snapped. "I need you to hurry up so we can leave."

Renilvo chuckled, reaching up to pluck a bright purple fruit from the branch. "I'm sorry this took a while. I don't have powers like you that can get me from place to place in an instant. You know, it's actually quite nice to stop and take in the environment."

He held the fruit out to her, grinning as if he'd just discovered a treasure. Kyia gave it a brief glance, unimpressed.

"Great. You found a fruit. Can we go now?"

"Not until you try it," he said, stepping closer. "Here, just one bite."

Kyia narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms tighter. "If I eat it, will you stop bothering me?"

"Depends on whether you like it," he teased, holding the fruit closer.

With a huff, she grabbed the fruit and bit into it, fully expecting it to taste like nothing special. Instead, a burst of sweetness filled her mouth, and her eyes widened for a split second before she quickly masked her reaction. After all these years in this area, how had she not tried this kind of fruit before?

"It's fine," she said flatly, handing it back to him. She wanted to give him nothing more to talk about.

Renilvo took it with a triumphant grin. It was as if he had seen through her façade in an instant. "Fine? That's all I get? Come on, admit it—you loved it."

"I didn't hate it," she conceded, already walking past him.

"That's practically a compliment coming from you," he called after her, still grinning.

Kyia muttered something under her breath that he couldn't quite catch, but he figured it wasn't anything flattering. Still, he followed her, his bag slowly filling with fruits as they ventured deeper into the forest.

As the minutes stacked up, Kyia's patience wore thinner. Renilvo, however, seemed immune to her growing irritation. "You know, I've been thinking," he said, examining a cluster of fruits overhead.

"That's dangerous," Kyia muttered.

He laughed, unfazed. "I've been thinking about how you're probably the toughest person I've ever met, even for a fawn. But also, despite your powers, you're the grumpiest woman that I've ever met as well."

She shot him a glare. "You've got about ten seconds to change the subject." A flame flickered from the tips of her fingers. Whether she was going to incinerate him or not was anyone's guess, but given her past record of mercy, murder was likely not her first option.

"Fine, fine," he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "How about this? Why are you helping me?"

The question caught her off guard, and she stopped walking, her arms still crossed. "You already know why," she said after a moment, her tone colder than usual.

"Because of the war?" Renilvo asked, trying to keep up with her. "But that doesn't explain why you're helping me. I'm a poil, you know that, right?"

She stiffened, her gaze hardening as she turned to him once more. "Will you just stop? I'm helping you because of what you have lost, alright? I respect your grief, but do not consider me to be your friend. If I have to listen to you ramble on, I am going to scream, so stop it already!"

Renilvo watched her carefully, his usual playfulness giving way to curiosity. He risked his life with his next question, but something in his heart beckoned it into the air. "You lost someone too, didn't you?" he asked gently.

Kyia's jaw tightened, and she looked away, huffing a groan. "Everyone lost someone in the war," she said, her voice softening toward the end of her sentence. "Myself included. Poils keep raiding fawn communes, killing them in their sleep. Fawns fight back and kill many poils. Chances are, Renilvo, everyone knows someone that has died."

"But not everyone is out here helping strangers," he pressed. "Why are you doing this? What are you trying to fix?"

"I'm not trying to fix anything. Nothing can be fixed." Kyia's emerald eyes rose toward the trees above, studying their beauty as her pace slowed. "I'm just trying to be the fawn that I know I must be. If I give in to vengeance, then what do I change? What would I gain from hurting you, just like the poils have hurt me?"

He didn't respond immediately, letting the silence settle between them. Then, in a softer tone, he said, "I'm sorry."

She looked at him, surprised. "What for?"

"For what my people have done to you," he said simply.

Kyia shifted uncomfortably, turning her gaze back to the forest. "Don't pity me," she muttered as she shook her head. "Just don't."

"I'm not," he said. "I'm just trying to understand you. You're... complicated, if that's the right word."

She shrugged her shoulder. "That's one way to put it."

After a while, Renilvo spoke again, his tone lighter this time. "You know, for someone so distant, you're surprisingly easy to talk to at times."

Kyia rolled her eyes. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"Take it however you want," he said with a grin. "I'm just saying, you're not as unapproachable as you let people think you are."

"Wow," she said dryly, using her abilities to move the assorted fallen branches and rocks out of her path as she walked along. "I'm honored."

"You should be," he teased, his grin widening.

Kyia shook her head again, exasperated with all this perceived nonsense. "Do you ever stop talking?"

"Nope," he said cheerfully.

Despite not wanting to play into his nonsense, a small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. She quickly wiped it away, hoping he hadn't noticed. As soon as he caught up with her, Renilvo paused, gazing at her with a thoughtful expression. Something was clearly on his mind, but what?

"Kyia," he said, his tone serious again.

"What now?" she asked, already bracing herself for whatever irritating comment he was about to make.

"You're beautiful."

NOTES:

Welcome back! Sorry for the delay! Holidays were hectic, and Christmas is set to be as well. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter!

So, this one was another mostly quiet entry, but the next one will kick things up a notch, to say the least.

Delia has unfortunately fallen victim to Kyia's lies. I wouldn't call her completely gullible, but over the last few days, she has formed a bit of a bond with her. That library is like an echo chamber, and all she gets to hear are Kyia's falsehoods. When that's your reality, it's reality, isn't it?

Kyia, meanwhile, has shown the potential to regain at least some of her powers. What does this mean? Who knows? She's still seeking out that dagger, and now, she has a literal direction—sort of.

Daniela is still being her nasty self, but that momentary pause is significant. The woman is literally not right in the head, and now Kyia can see that something is off.

Narratha has also shown a bit of a change of heart. Her act of kindness towards Marco speaks so much to how much she has changed. But like an arrow, she can only be pulled back so far. If she lets go, that force will only propel her forward and kill someone. She's clearly in a fragile state of mind, but this isn't the same woman that Cassandra fought in Locwitary.

What to expect in the next chapter? Some heartwarming chaos and a peek at what will transpire soon. We're about to enter the next arc, and the action is about to go down. Kyia and Narratha are on a collision course towards meeting, and Daniela will be caught in the mix.

Expect the next chapter on January 3rd, but I will try to get it out sooner if I can, so keep your eyes peeled!

I hope you all are doing well and have a safe and happy holiday! Thanks again for the love that you have for this story, and I can't wait to see you all again soon!