Daniela sat comfortably in her chair as she read through her favorite book. With the turn of every page, she seemed to get lost in its words. It was like a drug, calling her in with each visit. The novel's depiction of a perfect man made her heart ache with longing. She imagined a life where her family's discord was resolved, where her sisters no longer fought, and where the love of her life adored her.
It was this fantasy world of make-believe that she found refuge in. When things became too stressful, she would mentally abandon everything around her and fall back to her sanctuary. But the line between desire and reality constantly blurred when it came to her.
The noblewoman was unaware that it was becoming increasingly difficult to distinguish between them.
"Miss Daniela," Kyia said softly, breaking the silence as she approached with a tray of freshly polished glasses.
Daniela waved her off lazily. She did not wish to break her focus. "Just pour more wine."
Kyia obeyed, pouring the dark liquid into Daniela's goblet. Delia stood nearby, her eyes alternating between the two.
Daniela took a slow sip, letting the wine roll over her tongue. As she did, a faint whisper brushed the back of her mind, so subtle it felt like a trick of her imagination. Her brow furrowed slightly, and her amber eyes darted around the room, seeking to confirm its origin.
Can it be?
It was a man's voice—low and hauntingly familiar. But the words were unclear, as though they were spoken from so far away. The distinct, burly drawl in the tone, however, could not be ignored. No names came to mind, but she felt like she must have heard it a million times before.
"Did you say something?" Daniela asked abruptly, fixing on Kyia, even though she knew it couldn't have been her.
Kyia shook her head. "No, Miss Daniela."
Daniela frowned, her eyes narrowing. The voice came again, but it was still faint and disjointed, like fragments of a conversation replaying themselves. Nothing discernable could be picked out that would indicate the name of who was speaking. She rubbed her temple and leaned back in her chair, trying to make sense of the sensation. She felt like she was going crazy, but there was no denying that the voice was there.
Who is that? Where is this coming from?
Kyia glanced sideways at Delia, who looked equally perplexed. Daniela had grown quiet, lost in her own thoughts. Kyia's sharp eyes caught a glimpse of the scar on the redhead's temple as the noblewoman tilted her head back. It was so prominent. Veiny—with what appeared to be tendrils extending from a remarkable epicenter.
The sight stirred a memory in Kyia. Back in Serpenmoor, she had seen the same scar on Bela, the eldest of the bunch. Her mind raced as she tried to connect the dots—if both Daniela and Bela bore the mark, it was highly likely that Cassandra did as well.
This was a substantial piece of information, as all three of the daughters were likely linked to some sort of injury.
But the scar was no ordinary wound. It looked deliberate, purposeful. Kyia's curiosity burned, though she masked it well. But still, she could not stop thinking about why three individual women would have been given the same mark by pure coincidence. Her gut spoke to her and told her that this was something planned.
Bela had made mention of her mother being a liar, forcing her to obey without question, but with everything going on in the present, Alcina's truths were not the fawn's concern. Yet in that city, the blonde appeared to be heavily distraught, minus the abduction of Ethan. Something deep-rooted in her home life had troubled her, but what?
What did those scars hide?
"Miss Daniela," Kyia asked, "would you like me to fetch more wine?"
Daniela blinked, her thoughts interrupted. She waved dismissively once more, wishing to maintain her concentration. "Yes, yes. Go ahead. I shouldn't have to ask."
Delia grew worried about what would follow. "I can go instead," she interjected quickly. Her voice was laced with concern, and her posture personified her emotions. The girl was unsteady as she stood by, ready to go forth without hesitation, even if it meant Kyia would remain with their tormentor.
Kyia turned to her with a calm but firm gaze. "It's no trouble. I'll be quick." She smiled right after she spoke, signaling that a likely interaction with Luana was okay.
Daniela raised an eyebrow, looking between the two maids. She grew more restless by the second. "This is no debate."
"Yes, Miss Daniela," Kyia said softly. "I will go." Delia was left with no choice now.
Daniela, disinterested in their exchange, returned her attention to her book, sipping her wine without a care to be had. As long as she got her drink, then there was nothing more to be concerned about.
With that, Kyia departed the library, leaving Delia behind. The scar on Daniela's temple wasn't just a mark—it was a clue. If the fawn's journey to the kitchen was successful, then she would return with more than just wine. Someone in the castle had to have information regarding it.
Delia shifted uneasily on her feet, her hands clasped in front of her as she lingered in the library. Despite Kyia's reassurances, the tension in her shoulders hadn't eased since the other maid left. Her concern was evident, though she did her best to mask it as well. If Daniela saw her like this, then she would prey on the maid's worry.
Daniela sat peacefully in her chair, humming as she traced the rim of her goblet with her finger. Her book lay open on her lap, though she wasn't reading it anymore. Instead, her amber eyes had drifted toward Delia, a coy grin pulling at the corners of her lips.
It was too late.
"You look scared," Daniela remarked with amusement. "If you're going to shake, at least do it quietly. I'd rather not get distracted. This is the best part of the story."
Delia immediately stilled, bowing her head. There was no use arguing. "My apologies, Miss Daniela."
Daniela tilted her head, studying the maid. "You're always so scared, aren't you?"
Delia paused, not wanting to draw attention to her true feelings. But Daniela could sense them like a snake in the bushes. Fear was heat, and the redhead was a coldblooded serpent hungry for its next meal. "I do get worried sometimes, yes, Miss Daniela."
"Worried about what?" Daniela's words ended with a playful draw, but that curious breath was anything but kindhearted.
Delia regretted her answer immediately. She would've responded honestly about her fears regarding Kyia and the other maids, but to do so would mean placing the brunette in harm's way. She would have to redirect the topic back to her. "I just get scared that I'm going to do something wrong. That I'm going to mess up."
A simple answer.
"Hmm," Daniela hummed, lifting her glass and taking a long sip of wine. She leaned back in her chair, her red hair cascading over her hooded shoulders. "You're loyal. I'll give you that. It's admirable, in a way. But it makes me wonder..."
Delia glanced up cautiously. "Yes, Miss Daniela?"
Daniela's smirk widened. "About loyalty. Love. What makes someone so devoted to another that they'd do anything for them? What does it take to find the right person?" She gestured to her book. "I read about it all the time, but books make it seem so... straightforward. Real life is far messier, isn't it?"
Delia swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. What was she getting at now? "I suppose it depends, Miss Daniela."
"On what?" Daniela asked, her gaze sharp. She wanted the answer that lay before her.
"On the people involved," Delia said carefully. "Love can be formed through shared experiences or maybe through one's perception of the other's actions. And sometimes, it's simply fate, I guess."
"Fate," Daniela repeated, rolling the word on her tongue. She set her chalice down and tapped a finger against her chin. "It sounds just like what my books talk about all the time. It almost seems so fictional. Still, I suppose it's possible. Cassandra would scoff at the idea, though."
She then mumbled under her breath. "She hates my stories." The servant did not hear her.
"Miss Cassandra seems like she enjoys her hobbies greatly." Delia tried her best to fight off the immense sense of dread that curled up her spine after that statement. She knew Cassandra's hobbies. Everyone did.
"Oh, you are right," Daniela said, laughing lightly. Her giggles then softened, and she leaned forward slightly, her expression detailing something else that was now on her mind. "Speaking of Cassandra... I had the strangest dream last night."
Delia blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. "A dream, Miss Daniela?"
"Yes." Daniela's eyes turned to the skylight above her as she spoke. "It was strange. Cassandra was there... but she wasn't herself. She was with some woman I didn't recognize, and they were... happy, if that's the right word. This woman was pretty, but her fur cape was most odd."
Delia tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. "What were they doing?"
Daniela chuckled softly. "They were kissing! Ugh! Could you imagine that?"
Delia tried to picture it and failed. "That does seem... unusual for her, Miss Daniela."
"Unusual doesn't even begin to cover it," Daniela said, bemused. She leaned back again, her gaze drifting to the grey sky. "It felt like a fantasy story come to life. Even the world matched the part. But the way Cassandra actually smiled was what got me. And it was not the kind of smile she gives when she's about to kill someone—it was an honest, loving smile."
"Did you see anything else, Miss Daniela?"
Daniela tapped a finger against her lounge chair, trying to replay everything in that foggy dream. "Just blue fire—lots of it. Cassandra had a full head of hair, and then there was this little girl running around. Leta? What kind of a name is that?"
Delia found herself momentarily captivated by the image, though she quickly reminded herself to tread carefully. Daniela's mind was a maze of the uncontrollable. "Do you think it meant something, Miss Daniela?"
Daniela shrugged. "Who knows? Dreams are weird. Maybe Cassandra is right, and I have been reading too many books." She sighed. "But sometimes I wish my books were real. Life would be much more exciting, don't you think? I mean, imagine if I got to live that sort of life, but with a man instead."
Delia nodded slowly, though she did not know what to say after. Entertaining the noblewoman's delusions was not always a guaranteed path to kindness.
Daniela's gaze sharpened, and she waved her hand in the air immediately. "Enough of this chatter. Go find something useful to do while we wait for Kyia to return."
"Yes, Miss Daniela," Delia said, bowing before stepping back to the shelves to continue her work.
...
As Kyia stepped out of the library, the thought of finding the note about the dagger consumed her focus. It had to have contained some helpful information, she thought. The idea that the key to her powers was somewhere close by wracked her brain to no end. She wanted nothing more than to take possession of it and channel its residual energy back into her veins.
Instead of descending down the stairs, as she should have, the fawn chose to move across to the opposite door, directly above the Opera Hall. Once she opened it and moved through, the balcony around her stretched out before her like a theater box. She paused, resting her hands lightly on the ornate railing as she gazed down, keeping her eyes peeled for any signs of the Dimitrescu family lurking about.
Kyia's eyes darted around, scanning the stage and the surrounding fixtures below for anything that might seem out of place. She found nothing, but the quietness of the space pressed against her ears, reminding her of the urgency of her task. Time was not on her side, and Daniela's impatience would only grow if she lingered too long.
She had to be quiet as well. Besides the occasional creaks in the walls, there was nothing to mask her activities. If she were to be discovered, there would be a painful turn of events to follow.
Maximizing the time that she had, Kyia pulled back and returned to the hallway just outside the balcony. Her emerald glare centered itself on the windows that lined the walls beside a small table. How odd, she thought, that there appeared to be iron bars all around them. It didn't seem like it was intended to prevent escape, but to reinforce the window itself instead.
Tilting her head to the left, the fawn's attention was then snagged by a small cabinet at the end of the hallway, just around the corner. It was a tiny desk, but the lamplight on top of it called her near. This one appeared to be in use, so there had to be something worthwhile in it. She made her way to the cabinet with haste, kneeling down as she opened its doors.
Once she did, Kyia's hands worked quickly through the contents. Book after book, paper after paper, yielded nothing of apparent value. Frustration began to set in as her fingers brushed over more loose papers and scraps of old notes. This was a failure. In defeat, the brunette decided to abandon her ambition. The short pile of books that she had stacked up on the floor needed to be placed back where they came from.
She got to work on returning them, her head peeking over her shoulder with each transfer. Finally, as she returned the last book to its rightful place, a dark stain on the bottom corner caught her eye.
Blood.
Kyia's hand hovered over the book. This had to be something. Slowly, she opened it, careful not to crinkle the weathered pages. The contents were primarily handwritten notes, scribbled in a speedy fashion. As she flipped through, she discovered images contained within the pages themselves.
Photographs, as she had been told by Ethan, did not exist in her realm. It was a wondrous technology, she felt. How a device could capture a moment in time and lock it. But this particular moment in time was a strange one. She couldn't make sense of the photos at all.
The images were grainy and black-and-white, depicting three different women wandering the village. Each lady had her own, separate picture, taken from afar, as if they were unaware of it as they went about their daily lives. Despite the weathering of the photos, Kyia noticed something familiar about them—they reminded her of the Dimitrescu daughters.
Mostly. Something was different about them.
They appeared... normal.
Before she could analyze further, the faint sound of footsteps echoed down the hall, ending her search for information. Her chest tightened. The steps grew louder, closing in on her position. With a quick breath, Kyia stuffed the book back into the cabinet and shut it as quietly as she could. As soon as the door at the other end of the hallway opened, she was already on her feet.
Daniela entered, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. She tilted her head, her gaze locking onto Kyia with precision. "What are you doing here?" She asked with suspicion dancing from her lips.
Kyia bowed her head slightly. "I thought I heard something moving behind the cabinet, Miss Daniela. Perhaps a small animal."
Daniela's brow arched, and then her lips curled into a wicked grin. She chuckled softly, a sound that sent shivers down Kyia's spine. "A little creature scurrying about? How delightful. If you manage to catch it, bring it to me. I wouldn't mind a snack."
Her laughter reverberated in the hallway as she pointed to the stairs. "But abandon your search. Don't forget my wine, Kyia," she said. "I'm going for a stroll, so I expect it in the library when I return."
With that, Daniela disappeared, leaving Kyia standing frozen in the hallway. She drew in a steadying breath and adjusted her apron. There was no time to linger on what had just happened, even though her eyes continued to set on the cabinet nearby. Daniela's demand for wine was not a request, and Kyia couldn't afford to draw suspicion. With her heart still racing, she turned and began her journey to the kitchen, her thoughts clouded.
There had to be something else worth discovering inside this castle. The book could remain there for now. She would make the effort to come back to it later, giving up on her quest to comb through more fixtures. There was no use risking death from getting caught by Daniela, who could likely end up anywhere.
It was a long walk before she finally reached the kitchen. Her journey had taken her eyes to all the doors that surrounded her. Kyia believed that there were an immeasurable number of secrets behind those barriers. With the sound of Daniela in the distance and Alcina's heavy footsteps just around the corner, she did not take the time to discover the truth.
Crossing into her former workstation, the intense aroma of raw meat hit her immediately, making her stomach churn. Kyia pressed a hand to her mouth, willing herself to keep the rising bile at bay. It had to have been the extra flesh that stuck around for too long. The Dimitrescu family did not seem to care, but the place reeked of death. She couldn't afford to just grab the wine and turn around now.
Luana and Sorina were nowhere to be seen. This was her chance to look around.
She quickly spotted the wine basket against the far wall, its bottles stacked neatly in a circle. Choosing a bottle at random, Kyia plucked it from the rack and placed it gently on the counter. Satisfied she had fulfilled her promise to Daniela, her eyes began to move around the room, searching for anything out of the ordinary.
When she used to work here, there was never any time to investigate. It was always one task after another. Clean this. Cook that. She could have sworn that she saw a note or two tucked away somewhere.
She approached the shelves first, pushing things aside and opening boxes, combing through their contents. Flour, sugar, dried herbs—nothing of immediate interest. Moving to the tables, she inspected jars of preserved fruits and vegetables, bottles of oil, and sacks of grain.
Nothing.
Then, stashed away behind the boxes set upon a short shelf nearby, her eyes caught sight of a folded piece of paper. She carefully retrieved it, unfolding the note to reveal what it said.
Another one was sent to the cellar. She had only spilled some soup...
Everyone knows what happens when you're sent to the cellar. You're never seen again. They drain your blood, your soul cursed to wander the halls.
I went looking for her, and when I found her, she was just skin and bones and gnawing on a rat carcass.
I suspect it'll be my turn next.
"The cellar?" Kyia whispered to herself.
Just as she folded the note and tucked it back where it came from, a wailing sound echoed from the hallway behind her. The sound was faint at first, like a distant whisper, but it grew louder, more distinct—a mournful, anguished groan that could not be overlooked.
Something was not far away from her. Something that was alive.
She always thought she had heard something making noise in that direction, but the urgency to get things done around the kitchen always stole her attention away. Luana and Sorina did not say much when she had asked about it, but there was some concern on their faces to be seen. It raised the fawn's suspicions—and rightfully so.
Kyia froze, her heart pounding. It was the sort of sound that only the infected populace of Serpenmoor could have made. People whose minds had been hijacked by an unimaginable plague. If the note was of any value, it meant that there may have been darker secrets inside this castle than once previously thought.
Did the Dimitrescu family harbor the same sort of plague that Vikcia was able to spread?
Kyia couldn't resign herself to that belief. Bela appeared to have no clue about what she was up against back then. There was no way that this castle housed that sort of disease. No. It had to be something else, but what?
Summoning her courage, Kyia crept toward the edge of the door, peering cautiously into the hallway that led to the sound. When there was nothing to be seen but a large room, sealed off only by a large, boarded-up hole in the wall, the fawn began to piece the puzzle together.
The sound continued, turning into a drawn-out hiss. Whatever it was that was beyond those wooden panels—it wasn't anything like her.
Steeling herself, she stepped into the room at the far end of the corridor.
Something about the space beyond felt oddly familiar, though she couldn't place why. The wailing had ceased, replaced by a heavy, suffocating silence. The thing that was down there must have detected her presence and it was quieting itself to lure her closer.
As the wind pounded against the closed windows beside her, Kyia's emerald eyes slowly turned toward the outside world. The nauseating stench of the kitchen had drifted toward this area, yet the windows continued to remain shut. This family thrived on the raw flesh of the innocent, yes, but for such a seemingly "elegant" family, why would they seal this fortress down, allowing mold and other things to accumulate? It was no secret that this place was in a state of disarray, and even with the maids, it was too large to take care of.
Kyia paused, closing her eyes as she tried to replay her memories. She had witnessed this room before, but where?
"It was a flash," she whispered to herself. "A memory not of my own, yes?"
Memories, she thought. Yes. Those not of her own.
That was when she recalled touching Bela's hand during their fight for survival in that forsaken city. Bela's memories flooded her mind, but Kyia was able to control it. She did not falter, but in the wake of the encounter, she had been able to witness other aspects of the blonde's past.
That was when it dawned on her—Bela and Ethan had fought in here.
Kyia's eyes opened with a gasp, but she calmed herself as she placed her hand upon her chest. It was no secret that those two hated each other when they arrived in that realm, so the fight had just occurred. But if Bela's powers had been torn from her when she entered that new realm, then why did she look like she was losing the fight to Ethan and not using her powers at all?
It didn't make sense. Kyia knew that there was something else that she was missing.
What else was there in that brief snapshot that she had realized at the time?
Her mind then drifted to the next subject, stealing her attention away for now. "Ethan…"
Would he arrive soon?
The Library
Life inside the literary sanctuary continued as normal in the absence of Kyia. Daniela had returned sooner than expected and now reclined on her longue chair, casually flipping through the pages of her book as her amber eyes scanned its words. Her mind would only take in so many sentences at once. She had read this story a million times, but always forgot its contents. Each experience with it was a fresh one.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught movement. Startled, she glanced up and saw him again—the same handsome man from before. He stood silently in the corner of the room, nestled in the shadows, but still alluring all the same. His chiseled jawline and piercing eyes seemed to pull her in. It was a figment of her longing imagination. The sort of character that would have been on the cover of any romance book.
There you are, my love.
She tilted her head, offering him a playful smile and a wink. The redhead felt comfortable in his presence, not piecing together the realistic consequences of such an intruder. He had no reason to be there, yet he was. To her delight, he returned the gesture, his lips curling into a smirk that sent a thrill through her heart.
All for me.
"Always so charming," Daniela muttered under her breath, her cheeks warming with a blush as her stare drifted down to the page below her. After this next sentence, she would close her story and invite him over beside her.
But when she looked up again, the man was gone. The corner was empty, the shadows now still, searching for another host to cling to. She hummed in disappointment, her mood slightly deflated.
"You never stick around," she mused aloud, closing her book and letting it rest on her lap. "Perhaps one day you'll find the courage to stay."
She let out a sigh and leaned back in her chair, her eyes moving to the door as her throat ran dry. "What's taking Kyia so long with the wine?" she muttered. Her fingers drummed against the armrest impatiently.
Almost as if on cue, the library door creaked open, and Kyia stepped in, a bottle of wine in hand. The maid moved quickly as she hurried over towards her master.
"Forgive my delay, Miss Daniela," Kyia said softly, bowing her head slightly. "I have the wine you requested."
Daniela's irritation melted into a pleased smile as Kyia approached, setting the bottle delicately on the small stand beside her. There would be no violent outburst for now. The maid had brought the perfect blend, second to her family's signature mix.
"Well, it's about time," Daniela replied, her tone playful rather than harsh. It was another mood swing. She leaned forward slightly, her amber eyes fixed on Kyia. "Pour me a glass, won't you?"
"Of course, Miss Daniela." Kyia uncorked the bottle and poured the liquid into a goblet. The scent of the wine mingled with the room's paper aroma, creating a mix of culture and age.
If there was some blood in the air, then it would have been thrilling, Daniela thought.
As Kyia poured, Daniela studied her with an intensity that made the maid slightly uncomfortable. The way Daniela's gaze lingered felt scrutinizing yet oddly warm, as though she were admiring a particularly fine painting. The fawn recalled moments where a few poils glanced at her in such a manner; their desires already evident as they would have been for any other woman.
"Hmm, steady, aren't you?" Daniela remarked, her voice smooth. "Have you poured wine for others before?"
Kyia glanced up briefly, meeting Daniela's gaze before lowering her eyes again. She had to lie. "Yes, Miss Daniela," she replied. "But your wine is the finest I've ever handled."
Oh, how I wish he was serving me wine right now! I wonder… what would I say to him?
Daniela chuckled, her laughter light as her smile pulled tighter across her cheeks. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Kyia." She accepted the goblet from Kyia's hand, her fingers brushing the maid's fingers ever so slightly. "You've done well."
Kyia stepped back, clasping her hands in front of her. "Is there anything else you require, Miss Daniela?"
Daniela sipped the wine, her eyes never leaving Kyia. "Stay a moment," she said, her voice more of a command than a request. "It's dull drinking alone. If you say my wine is the best, then you must prove it. Try it."
The redhead then turned her eyes towards Delia. "Leave us, now!"
Responding with obedience, Delia bowed her head and hurried out of the library. "Yes, Miss Daniela," she said as she crossed through those doors, heading to wherever else she could go. There was one final look of concern that she cast Kyia's way, as Daniela's words worried her to no end.
Kyia watched as Delia left, but nodded, moving a little closer, even though she was hesitant to be anywhere near this psychopath. Daniela motioned for her to sit next to her. There was no getting out of this. The brunette took her required seat, her lips pressed shut as she averted her eyes from the woman beside her.
As the silence stretched, Daniela swirled her wine in the goblet, her gaze distant. "Do you ever dream, Kyia?" she asked curiously.
Kyia blinked, taken aback by the question. "Uhm… yes. Sometimes, Miss Daniela"
Daniela smiled faintly. "I had a strange one last night. I saw my sister Cassandra…" She trailed off, sipping her wine thoughtfully. It was as if she was trying to find the correct words to describe something so strange.
Kyia tilted her head, feigning politeness. "What did you see, Miss Daniela?"
Daniela hummed. "Just my sister, having everything that I've always wanted. It isn't fair."
Kyia nodded, though she didn't know how to make sense of such a vague sentence. "We often dream of what we want the most. However, sometimes dreams are masked in oddity." But then, without hesitation, she pounced upon the opportunity to learn something. "You were in my dream last night, Miss Daniela."
Was I? I must hear this!
Daniela snapped her attention toward Kyia immediately. "Was I with a man? What did I do?"
"No," Kyia said, fighting to not raise her eyebrow at the strange remark. "You had a dagger, of some sort, in your hand. There were flowers all around, or you were talking about flowers. I forget. Then you mentioned death. Death and flowers. Death's flowers? Does any of that make sense to you, Miss Daniela?"
Upper Chambers
Alcina sat in her high-backed chair, gazing aimlessly into the mirror as she held the antique phone to her ear. "Mother Miranda," she began, "are you certain this will work?"
On the other end of the line, Mother Miranda's voice was calm, yet authoritative. "It is not your place to question my methods, Alcina. I will be en route to Ethan Winters' home shortly. Rose is the key to completing our work, and within the next two weeks, she will serve her purpose."
Alcina leaned back, her eyes narrowing as she swirled the wine in her goblet. "And what would you have of me in the meantime?"
Miranda's voice sharpened. "Keep the village in order. I already had one incident with that redheaded outsider. The last thing I need is the villagers undermining who I am."
A fleeting look of annoyance crossed Alcina's face, though only she could see it. This would be an opportunity to prove herself and earn the coveted place as Miranda's favorite. "She attacked one of the villagers, correct? Beat the man to a bloody pulp?"
There was a brief pause on the line before Miranda responded, her tone dismissive. "She will be dealt with. You need not concern yourself."
Alcina's grip on the phone tightened. "If she's proven herself a liability, why not allow me to eliminate her? One less nuisance to disrupt the village. Bring her to this castle, and I will take great pleasure in slicing her to ribbons."
Miranda's reply was immediate and firm. "No. I will make the final decision as to how she dies. Her level of disrespect is beyond you, Alcina. Her suffering will be grand."
Alcina's expression darkened, her lips pressing into a thin line. She felt like she mattered nothing to Miranda at all. "I only seek to honor your status. It angers me greatly to hear that she insulted your name. Let me bleed her, Mother Miranda. She is not worth keeping around."
"Your understanding of her worth is irrelevant," Miranda said curtly. "Focus on your task, Alcina. Keep the villagers in line, and ensure that no one interferes with my plans. As always, I expect your obedience."
A tense silence hung in the air as Alcina considered her response. Finally, she inclined her head, though Miranda still could not see it. "Yes, Mother Miranda."
The line went dead, and Alcina slowly lowered the receiver, her sharp claws protruding from her fingers, tapping rhythmically against the table's polished surface. Her mind churned with thoughts of flipping the desk into the wall. It was always a tempting act.
Perhaps, one day, the disregard would finally push her to do so.
The Factory
Narratha sat on the ground at the edge of the wall in her cell, her knees drawn to her chest. Her mind raced with images of Marco—his wide, frightened eyes. His terrified scream. The sound of his father's hand striking his body. It cast a rhythm in her ears that she drowned only with the revelation that she had made his life worse.
Her fingers curled tightly around the coarse fabric of her gown as the next tear blended into her chin. Every moment that passed only intensified the gnawing fear in her chest. What had happened to him?
She had spent the last few hours wanting to know, but all she had to contend with was darkness. It nearly drove her to madness.
The heavy sound of boots against the plated floor pulled her from her thoughts moments later. She scrambled to her feet, gripping the cold steel bars of her cell as Heisenberg's silhouette loomed closer. His ever-present cigar glowed as it rolled across his lips. The man looked like he was terribly aggravated, but something was preventing him from spilling his anger.
That was what worried Narratha the most. She had acted out and battered a villager. Even if her violence was arguably righteous, the consequences of it were not to be ignored.
"You really screwed things up, you know that, right?"
Narratha's voice cracked as she spoke. She already knew the answer. "What's going to happen to me?"
Heisenberg rolled his shoulders, shaking his head as if the question didn't matter. "Miranda didn't say much—just that you stay locked up until she decides what to do. She's already off working on her grand plan. As for you?" He blew a puff of smoke, his expression unbothered. "Don't get your hopes up. She's not keeping you alive."
Narratha shut her eyes and nodded, forcing herself to accept what she had known all along. Surviving Miranda's grip had been a miracle, but her reprieve was temporary. Why had Miranda spared her? It wasn't mercy. The villagers had seen too much; that was the only explanation.
But something else gnawed at her, a question more pressing than her fate. It escaped her lips before she could think twice.
"Marco—the boy. What happened to him?"
Heisenberg's nonchalance faltered.
"Heisenberg?" Narratha's grip tightened on the bars, her voice trembling. "Please. Tell me what happened to him."
For a moment, the factory lord said nothing. His lips pressed into a firm line, and he let out a soft grunt—one that made Narratha's stomach twist.
"Please."
"Damn it…" Heisenberg swayed his head, cursing under his breath. With a raise of his hand, a metal hanger spun toward him, stopping in mid-air. He caught it effortlessly, but Narratha's attention locked on what it held—a child's grey coat.
It was soaked in blood.
Narratha's mouth fell open, her breath choked. She didn't need to inspect it to know—it was Marco's coat. The oversized collar, the tattered sleeves… It was unmistakable. But it was the streaks of crimson, the jagged claw marks torn across the front, that hollowed her chest.
Heisenberg's voice was softer now, lacking its usual sneer. He sounded so genuine, for once. "Miranda wouldn't kill a kid herself, not in front of the villagers. But the Lycans? The villagers believe the stories. She doesn't have to lift a finger. A 'disobedient boy' who ran into the woods… They wouldn't question it. I had a feeling she would do something like this, so I went out to go see for myself."
His eyes fell on the coat. "Sure enough… she did."
Narratha's voice was fragile, her words cracking under the weight of what she feared. "You're saying she…?"
"She broke his leg, probably left him for them to find." He hesitated. "If she didn't kill him herself, she stood there and watched while they did. Poor kid didn't stand a chance."
Her heart shattered.
"No," she whispered, her hand reaching through the bars. "No, no, no! Give it to me!"
Wordlessly, Heisenberg handed her the coat. She snatched it, retreating to the corner of her cell. She pressed the bloodied fabric against her chest, clutching it as though she could squeeze the truth out of it.
This was Marco's coat. This was his blood. This was proof that she had failed him.
What hit her even harder was the fact that he had likely been sentenced to this fate because of her. If she had not attacked his father and chosen to allow him to suffer at home, then Miranda would have never stepped in and murdered him. Marco would have still been alive, even if it meant that he was in anguish. But was that a preferred fate?
Could there have been another outcome where the boy may have been saved? All the chances of that were gone. The past was written in stone, and there was no way to undo it.
Tears blurred her vision as her trembling hands traced the claw marks. Her mind replayed every moment since they'd met—the way he had clung to her, begged her to save him, trusted her. She had failed to protect him, just as she had failed before.
Just like Balia.
Her voice cracked as she rocked herself against the cold wall. "He wanted me to be his mother. He trusted me... and I... I couldn't save him."
She couldn't stop the memories from flooding in—Balia's terrified face, the haunting screams that still echoed in her nightmares. Marco's fate reopened wounds she thought had scarred over long ago. Now, it was he who had been added to her collection of misery.
"No!" she screamed, her voice breaking as she gripped the coat tighter. Blood seeped through the fabric, staining her hands and gown, but she didn't care. "NO!"
Her cries echoed in the confined space, raw and unrelenting, each one a dagger to her own soul. She crumbled further, her body trembling, her mind consumed by grief and guilt.
Just like Balia in Locwitary, Narratha could only be forced to watch as the person that would end Marco's life took custody of him. It made her feel so powerless, unable to defend those she cared about. It reopened wounds so old that the stench of decay threatened to fester across her being. It brought back the pain of that terrible day—a pain that she had spent a decade trying to bury.
Heisenberg watched, his face somber as the fawn suffered. There was no mocking grin, no glib remark. Just silence.
"He trusted me, and I couldn't…" Narratha's voice dropped to a broken whisper. "I couldn't save either of them." She coughed as she fought to breathe, but the onslaught of sorrow kept on coming.
After a few minutes, Narratha's cries began to quiet, though her trembling didn't cease. She wanted to just keep all her emotions to herself. It had grown to the point where it was all too much to bear. She held the coat tightly, her knuckles white, when Heisenberg broke the silence.
"Miranda," he muttered, grimacing as he withdrew the cigar from his mouth and held it at his side. "She's no savior—just a parasite."
Narratha blinked, her eyes slowly lifting to meet his. For a moment, the despair locked her in place. But then, as if his words had struck a chord deep within her, something inside her shifted.
"What did you say?" Her voice cracked, but it carried an interest that could not be hidden.
Heisenberg looked down at her, his face betraying every action that he had displayed prior to this very hour. "I said I hate her. I want to see her destroyed. If I had my way, I'd make her pay for everything she's done."
Narratha sat frozen for a beat, her breath stifling in her throat as she glanced around the darkness of her cell. Though she was still horrifically distraught, a glimmer of something new began to rise within her—vengeance.
"What do you mean?" She whispered, her wide eyes fixated on him.
Heisenberg gestured with his hand as if his words should have been obvious. "She's ruined my life too. Everything I had, she took it all. She thinks she's untouchable, but I've been waiting for the moment to show the bitch what she has coming."
The weight of his confession crashed into her. Narratha's hands shook as she clutched Marco's coat tighter. She thought that she was alone in this. A lord under Miranda's rule would never dare betray the prophet, right? "You want to kill her?"
Heisenberg nodded slowly. "I've been looking for a way to do so for years. And frankly, I never thought I'd get the chance. But if I'm right, maybe you can help me. I wish I could have asked under better circumstances, but if you're set to die anyway..."
Narratha didn't wait for him to finish. She scrambled to her feet, taking Marco's coat with her as she rushed to the bars, pressing her face against them. The urgency in her movements was matched only by the fire igniting in her eyes.
Those were the eyes of a fawn who sought to rectify everything—and punish those responsible for her loss.
"I—" She paused, gathering her breath before she continued. "I haven't been entirely honest with you."
Heisenberg arched a brow, leaning his head back as he removed those dark shades. "And how so?"
Her lips quivered as she pulled the truth out. "I told you I was from another world, which is true, but there's more to it than that. I had powers once—powers you can't even begin to imagine. Fire and forces that can burn and crush anything that I choose. And if I can regain them, she would not be able to win."
Heisenberg's brows pressed together. "You expect me to believe that?"
"What do I have to lie about?" She shot back, her voice elevated. "I'm already dead, aren't I? Miranda is going to kill me, right? You say you want to destroy her, then so do I!"
Her words gave him pause, his gaze narrowing as he studied her. "Go on."
"There's a dagger," Narratha said quickly, her words spilling out in desperation. She paid no mind to what she told him, as even the most fragile of information needed to be aired out. "Somewhere in this village. I don't know how or why it's here, but if I can find it… it might be the key to reawakening what I have lost. And with it, I can end Miranda."
Heisenberg stared at her, as if he was stewing her words around in his head. For a long moment, he said nothing. Narratha figured that he didn't believe anything that she had said. But then, with a slow exhale, he nodded. "If you're lying…"
"I'm not," she cut him off. "I swear it. I'm telling you the truth. Let me be your weapon."
Another pause. Then he gave a small, final nod. "Fine. Then I think I should let you in on my plan."
Her eyes ceased blinking. "You already have a plan?"
"Oh, yes." His voice was firm. The way he spoke made it seem as though a war had already begun long before the fawn arrived in this world. "If you are going to be a part of it, then that means we're partners, right?"
Narratha's eyes burned with a newfound determination. Though her grief still clawed at her chest, it now fueled the growing fire within her. Her lips broke into a smile, drenched in bloodlust. She straightened, her hands gripping the bloodied coat as she leaned closer to the bars.
Miranda had murdered Marco—and she would pay for her act.
Everyone and everything loyal to her would burn in his name.
Narratha's grin widened as she met his eyes. "Yes. Partners."
The Library
"So, this… dagger," Kyia began as she swirled the wine in her glass. She had hardly taken a sip. "It sounds like something right out of a story."
Daniela smirked, her crimson lips curving with amusement as she swirled her own chalice. Without hesitation, Kyia leaned forward, the perfect picture of attentiveness, and refilled the glass. Daniela's grin deepened as she drank its contents, placing her in a mindset of perceived control.
"Kind of," the redhead replied, licking a stray drop of wine from her lips. "I've never actually seen it—only heard about it. Mother told us it was coated in poison, dangerous enough to kill anything. She said we should keep an ear out for anyone asking about it." Daniela waved a dismissive hand. "Not to say it exists. Just to get rid of anyone with bad intentions before they become a problem."
That comment caused Kyia's heart to jump with alarm. She feared that she may have accidentally triggered a violent response, given the guidelines allegedly set forth by Alcina. However, just as she began to consider backtracking on her question, the noblewoman beside her laughed at her own statement.
"Oh! Silly, isn't it?" Daniela sipped her wine again. "There are better things to kill someone over. It is just a story."
Kyia raised her brows in mock intrigue, her lips forming a small, curious smile. "So, you don't believe it, Miss Daniela?"
Daniela shrugged, her playfulness returning in full force. "Believe it? Does it matter? Even if it exists, who would be foolish enough to use it? And besides..." She leaned in close, her amber eyes glinting with mischief. "Who would dare come after me?"
Kyia's smile softened, her head tilting slightly. "Yes, Miss Daniela. Who, indeed?"
Satisfied with her sense of invincibility, Daniela sank back in her chair, her gaze drifting toward the skylight overhead. Kyia decided it was time to change the subject, to let the idea of the dagger rest for now. Daniela's guard was still too high. Instead, Kyia folded her hands beneath her chin, her tone morphing into curiosity.
"Your sister, Miss Cassandra," she began carefully, "do you two… share the same interests?"
Daniela's expression shifted, her grin dropping for just a moment before she masked it with a casual shrug. "Cassandra and I are... complicated. She's more into the whole 'hunting and tormenting' thing. She loves the thrill of the chase, the fear in her prey's eyes. Me? I prefer something with a little more substance."
Kyia nodded, as though considering this. She tried to play on the façade of interest while maintaining the utmost respect that any maid would have for their master. One wrong slip and the conversation would likely end with a terrible injury. "So, you don't hunt together, Miss Daniela?"
Daniela hesitated, her fingers tightening around the glass. "Not anymore," she admitted quietly. "She thinks I'm…" The words caught in her throat for a moment. "…not good enough."
Kyia frowned as though surprised. "Not good enough? That's… an unusual thing to say about one's own sister."
The muscles in Daniela's jaw tensed. "Cassandra doesn't mean it like that," she said quickly, though her tone betrayed a bitterness bubbling beneath the surface. "She just... she wants the hunt to go her way. I don't… fit into her plans, I guess."
"But you're strong," Kyia said softly, leaning forward with deliberate sincerity in her voice. "You're fast, clever, and… dangerous." Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Surely she must see that."
Daniela's gaze fell to the swirling wine in her glass, her lips pressing as she listened to the maid's words. "Maybe," she murmured. "But she always makes it feel like I'm less than her."
Kyia's voice softened further, almost a whisper. "That doesn't sound fair. It seems to me like you have more to offer than she realizes." She let the words hang in the air before adding, "Perhaps you should show her."
Daniela blinked, her amber eyes flicking up to meet Kyia's. The suggestion seemed to rattle something loose in her mind, a mix of longing and resentment. "You think so?"
Kyia leaned forward, studying Daniela carefully. The seed of doubt had been planted, but it needed nurturing. She smiled, her tone casual. "It sounds like you're not being appreciated, Miss Daniela. I think you would bring down any animal in your path. You should ask her to hunt with you."
Daniela let out a giggle, but it was anything but happy. "I've tried, but she's always so angry at me. I don't know what I can do."
"What a shame…"
Daniela looked up, her eyes narrowing slightly. "What are you getting at?"
"Nothing, Miss Daniela," Kyia said, her voice innocent, as if she had simply misspoken. "I just think it's a shame when someone like you—so full of potential—doesn't get the chances that they deserve. You deserve to hunt, Miss Daniela."
Daniela's lips parted as if to respond, but she hesitated, her gaze floating across the room. For a moment, the library was silent, right until a smile of relief crossed her face. "You're right," she said softly, almost to herself. "I do deserve to hunt. Cassandra doesn't know what she's talking about. She's always degrading me, but she never gives me the chance to prove myself."
Kyia hid her satisfaction behind her glass, taking a slow sip of wine as Daniela stared into the sky. The redhead's thoughts were clearly turning, and the fawn knew she had successfully begun to pit Daniela against her sister. Whatever came of it did not matter—as long as one of them harmed the other.
Kyia swallowed what remained of her glass as she let her plan play out in her mind.
Cassandra was a loose cannon. A woman who lashed out at everyone and everything around her. Yet, she occasionally exhibited signs of self-loathing, mentally broken and trying to find a place within her own family. Kyia had a sharp eye for that sort of stuff, but the noblewoman was a treacherous soul, and getting close to her was dangerous.
Daniela isolated herself purely by default, as Bela and Cassandra did not hang out with her. Bela was always busy with the castle itself, so the excuse was there. But the brunette? She seemed to have all the free time in the world, and she still chose to stay away from the others, despite how much her younger sister begged to be together.
She had to have wanted to get away from them, Kyia suspected.
The way Alcina and Bela jumped down her throat for every infraction must have made the middle child want to crawl up into a ball and merely vanish.
Kyia hummed as she glanced down at her hands. With how increasingly volatile Cassandra was becoming over the last few days, it was only a matter of time before she killed one of the maids.
Such anger like that was always destined for ruin.
And ruin was what Kyia sought through any means necessary.
NOTES:
Welcome back! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!
So, there was a lot that went down here from various perspectives.
Daniela is still delusional as ever, but it is clear that love is still on her mind. As I've mentioned before, her flirtatious nature with Kyia is more out of curiosity and preparation, rather than any form of genuine care. So, no Dani/Kyia shipping lol.
But in all truth: Daniela just sees her and Delia as objects and below human, devoid of any qualities. Feeling as dominant as she thinks she is, she lets some crucial things slip. Nobody has wielded the dagger in so long, so why should she be concerned?
Kyia is still on the hunt for information, which brings her to a very memorable book. Pity she did not get to look through it further, as she may have found a very notable photo of Miranda and Daniela, but maybe she will soon. Piecing together what she already knows, she has a plan in store that we're about to see kick off in the next chapter.
For those who read Flies, Cassandra and Daniela are heading towards one brutal moment, but this story won't be a complete rehash of that. There's going to be a new spin on it now and knowing Kyia – it'll be worse.
As for Narratha, her villain arc has begun. There was no bounce-back from her grief. She will spend the remainder of this story carrying the weight and the anger of Marco's death. Heisenberg now has a lot to work with, so what will he do to help?
No matter what, she will make it her mission to hunt down Miranda and deliver her own brand of 'justice' to this world.
So, what to expect in the next chapter? Well, we're about to advance time by a few more days, bringing us closer to the events of the game. Expect Narratha to be let in on the truth of Heisenberg's factory, while Kyia begins the first phase of her plan. And as for the Dimitrescu sisters, life as they know it will never be the same. The destabilization of this castle has begun and its about to get violent.
The next chapter will release next week on the 1st! I'll be returning to college shortly, so I will try to manage this as best I can.
I hope you all take care and be well! I'll see you all very soon! Enjoy your weekend