A crimson thread was sewn across the lips of the dead servant, as if even in death, he was bound to secrets too dangerous to speak. His lifeless body lay still, sprawled across the floor.
Kaelith knelt beside him, pinching the black rose pinned to his chest—a silent plea in his eyes for mercy, or perhaps peace. "Who would mark a body like this and leave it in my chamber?" she whispered. "Castro, you are a genius—I can't believe you came up with this."
Theron emerged from the shadows behind her. "Someone's sending a message. The real question is—warning or invitation?
Her fingers trembled as she held the damp petals of the rose. Dew or blood—she wasn't sure which. "You're certain?"
She nodded slowly. "When Aldric was alive, I studied him. Powerful men always leave powerful stories."
Theron cursed under his breath. "They were said to be extinct."
Kaelith murmured, more to herself, "Apparently everything around me is a mask, never the hand."
She reached again for the raven's note. "You're not the only one who remembers."
A shiver ran down her spine.
"We have to move the body before the palace guards get wind," Theron warned. "You, here, alone, with a corpse? That would look... damning."
Kaelith nodded. "Dispose of it. But take the rose and the thread."
"You think it's coded?"
"I think everything is."
She hadn't expected the city to be this beautiful at sunrise. Even the smoke curling from its breath felt poetic. But as awe stirred inside her, so did the dread—a tightening noose of old terror.
"Easier said than done," she muttered.
Theron glanced over his shoulder, lips pressed tight.
Rounded stone twisted into sharp peaks with gold linings framed Kaelith's silhouette as she looked out. Her mouth moved, whispering silent wishes to the fading stars. Over and over. Never tiring of them.
"Yes, my lady, the gh—" a voice began, but the girl collapsed mid-sentence.
A loud bang followed. A serving girl burst in, limbs flailing, voice high-pitched with desperation. She seized Kaelith's hand, clinging.
"Please don't tell anyone—I'll die for you—I'll make a lady out of you—actually, forget that—I'll make your enemies disappear—just say I'm your ally, right now. I'm yours."
Theron appeared from nowhere, expression grim. "That place is a ruin now. Vagrants, looters… ghosts."
"Perfect cover," Kaelith replied. "We go tonight."
The Ravencourt Greenhouse had become a grave. A pit of ivy, ash, and shattered glass—like stars fallen to earth. Kaelith stepped over broken beams, dead roots. Even the air held its breath.
"They say the garden bloomed once," Theron whispered. "The night Aldric died."
Kaelith closed her eyes. "Then let it bloom again tonight."
She reached the center, where a fountain once stood, now nothing but a moss-covered scar.
Figures emerged—shadows cloaked in illusion, faces hidden by silver masks.
"You came," said one, voice soft, genderless. "We are bound. As are you.
Kaelith exhaled slowly. "You summoned me."
"No," said another. "You survived. That woke us."
Kaelith revealed the rose and ring. "You left this in my room."
"A sacrifice," the first figure replied. "He broke the oath. He whispered to a forbidden ear."
"So you killed him," Kaelith said, chilled.
A third figure stepped forward, unmasked.
"Lord Hiram Vestra," she gasped. "You… I served you once."
"And now," he said, "we serve something greater."
Kaelith narrowed her gaze. "What do you want from me?"
"Not your rebellion," said the woman. "Your vengeance."
"Why?
"Because," Hiram answered, "the Queen broke the oath. She betrayed us. Aldric died to silence us. You were meant to fall with him."
Kaelith's voice hardened. "If war comes, I will not cower. I will rise.
The woman placed her hand over Kaelith's heart. "That is why we kneel.
Kaelith blinked. "What?"
"Aldric marked you. You carry the bloodline, the burden, the fury. You are the new Keeper of the Oath."
Before she could speak, they knelt before her.
Candles flickered. Shards crunched beneath her boots.
Her fingers curled into a fist. Old pain returned like a rising tide. Still, she stood tall.
"Rise," she commanded.
They obeyed.
"You may try to use me," she thought, "but I will outmatch you all."
The cloaked woman smiled. "I was starting to doubt you."
Kaelith stepped forward, heat in her lungs and fire behind her eyes. The game had begun.
Rules didn't matter anymore.
A flash of light caught her eye—her reflection in a broken mirror, surrounded by flames.
Her skirt danced like a burning banner.
"He watches me now. Does he?"
On the battlements, framed by smoke and fire, stood Thalia.
She wore Kaelith's signet ring, grinning.
Alive. Defiant. Ready for vengeance.
"So," Kaelith thought, "she eluded him after all."
And the war had truly begun.