I didn't sleep.
Not because I couldn't.
Because I didn't dare.
The shard of black glass pulsed beneath my floorboard like a heartbeat. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard it — not with my ears, but somewhere deeper, like it was inside me.
Calling.
Whispering.
Begging to be returned to something whole.
At dawn, I wrapped it in linen and tucked it into the lining of my servant's satchel. Then I returned to the Archives, same as I always did. Quiet. Unassuming. Forgettable.
Except today… I had questions.
And I knew exactly where to start.
The sealed shelf in Section V.
I'd only seen it once, when Master Therel coughed his way past it, muttering something about "unindexed sorcery containment." The shelf was locked with rusted chains, marked with sigils that still shimmered faintly despite the dust.
It wasn't technically off-limits to me.
But it wasn't allowed, either.
Which made it perfect.
Therel wasn't in the Archives when I arrived. The corner where he usually brewed his bitterleaf tea was empty. His journal lay open, ink still wet on the quill beside it.
I paused.
Read the top line.
"Elira may know more than she lets on. Will test with proxy records."
I froze.
He'd been watching me.
Not just assigning me scrolls or forgetting I existed — watching me.
I closed the journal.
Then I moved.
It took me twenty minutes to find the tools. A pryhook. A sigil-scoring blade. Wax-softener.
And my breath.
The first chain came loose easily.
The second sparked at my fingertips — not enough to harm, but enough to warn.
"Back away."
I didn't.
I pressed the blade to the sigil, whispered the cleansing phrase I shouldn't still remember.
It hissed.
Then… faded.
The lock fell open.
Pain Conversion: 39%
System dormant.
No skills unlocked.
Not yet.
But I felt the ache behind my eyes deepen. Like memory straining to break free.
Inside the shelf, I found exactly what I needed.
A ledger of sealed relics.
Dated fifteen years ago — the same year I was crowned.
And there it was.
Vasselreth.
Three entries.
The first: "The Mirror was classified as a Class-A Reflection Hazard. Location: Eastern Tower Vault, Level B."
The second: "Per Queen Delmira's decree, the mirror was to be sealed indefinitely. Access revoked for all except the Crown."
And the third… my breath hitched.
"Mirror not destroyed. Relocated under executive order: R.S.I. - No signature. No record. Location removed."
No signature.
No initials.
Just an erasure.
A vanishing.
Someone removed the mirror without permission — or with higher permission than the Crown.
And I had no memory of giving it.
Which meant…
Someone else claimed it.
And I was never meant to know.
I tucked the ledger beneath my robe and replaced the chain.
The sigils sparked again, but not as strongly.
As if they, too, were forgetting their purpose.
Like everything in this kingdom.
Like everyone who had once known my name.
I didn't make it back to the desk.
Because someone was waiting for me.
Not a guard.
Not Therel.
A boy.
Sixteen, maybe. Long sleeves. Coal-dust on his face like he worked the furnaces.
He wasn't supposed to be here.
But he looked straight at me and whispered, "You're not safe."
My fingers gripped the edge of a bookshelf. "Who are you?"
"They know you broke the seal," he said. "Master Therel is missing. And the knight-commander's already read his last entry."
My stomach twisted.
"How do you know that?"
"I hear things," the boy said. "And I remember faces. Yours was drawn last night."
I stared at him.
He didn't flinch.
He just reached into his coat and held out a slip of parchment.
A sketch.
Me — or at least, this version of me. Hood up. Gown modest. But the eyes...
They had drawn the eyes right.
Sharp. Cold. Familiar.
A notice of interest. No bounty — yet. No open warrant.
But it meant one thing.
They were watching again.
I took the sketch and crushed it in my palm.
"What do they want?"
"Not you," the boy said. "The mirror."
"How do you know about that?"
He smiled. One corner. Sad.
"Because the last time someone went looking for it… they burned, too."
Pain Conversion: 42%
System dormant.
No skills unlocked.
But I felt it swelling. Slowly. Inevitable.
The closer I drew to the mirror, the more the pain solidified — not as agony, but as purpose.
And now, the kingdom was shifting around me.
Drawing weapons I hadn't seen.
Whispers behind walls.
Orders written in smoke.
They took my name. My face. My soul.
But I still had one truth they couldn't erase.
I am the Queen of Ash.
And I have not finished burning.