Anita's fingertips brushed the book's leather binding, and a jolt of warmth surged up her arm. The air thickened, the flickering torches dimming as a low hum echoed through the Royal Archives.
The book's cover unfurled like petals of a flower, opening on its own. Its pages turned rapidly—alive. Words shimmered in golden ink, reshaping themselves to form a single passage:
"The Crown of Eldoria shall awaken when the Seeker sheds her royal skin and walks the path of thorns."
Anita stepped back, heart pounding. Her royal skin? Walk the path of thorns?
She knew now: the message in the garden was no lie. The enchanted forest was real. And so was the danger.
The room brightened suddenly. A heavy hand grasped her shoulder. She turned sharply—to face Sir Harlen, the castle's loyal guard commander.
"Princess, you shouldn't be here," he said, brows furrowed. "This place is sealed for a reason."
"I had to see it," Anita replied, voice steady. "I believe it holds the key to stopping something… something dark."
Sir Harlen sighed. "I believe you. But if your father finds out—"
"He can't," Anita whispered. "Not yet. Please, help me prepare. I need to leave the castle unnoticed."
His stern eyes softened. "You remind me of your mother," he said. "Brave. Wild at heart. I'll help."
Before dawn, Sir Harlen slipped her a travel pack, a dagger, and an enchanted compass that pointed toward magical disturbances. As the castle still slumbered beneath moonlight, Anita donned a hooded cloak and slipped through the servant tunnels.
Beyond the gate, the forest waited.
And so did destiny.
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