When I woke again, the infirmary ceiling stared back at me—blank, cream-colored, and obnoxiously peaceful. Which was rude, considering my entire world currently felt like it had been split open with a dull axe.
Jerry was curled on my stomach, snoring in a tiny coil, completely useless.
I barely noticed him.
My mind was still replaying her.
The woman in the hallway.
Those blue eyes.
That warm voice.
The strength with which she lifted me like I weighed nothing.
And the lie.
That black fog curling out of her mouth like a whispered warning.
Why had she lied?
Why had a stranger—a noble, a beautiful one at that—felt the need to hide her real name? Or her real title? Why pretend to be a Baroness?
I pressed my fingers to my temple.
None of it made sense.
But it wasn't what made my stomach twist.
It wasn't what made my pulse drop into a cold, dangerous rhythm.
It was the dream.
No… not a dream. A memory—one that wasn't mine.
I saw it again—my parents standing outside our home. My father's reassuring hand on my mother's back. Their voices low, steady… trusting.
And then the Captain of the Guard.
A man I had adored.
Respected.
Nearly worshipped.
I had always remembered him as loyal.
Brave.
A protector.
But now—
I saw the truth.
The way he lifted his arm without hesitation.
The cruel efficiency in the strike against my mother.
The cold movement of dragging their unconscious bodies across the snow.
The way he tossed them into the lake like they were refuse.
My breath caught at the memory of water enveloping them.
Something inside me broke.
My blood went hot—then boiling.
"That bastard."
Jerry jerked awake, flinching.
"Wh—what—why are you awake and angry?! It's morning— people aren't supposed to be angry in the morning!"
I ignored him entirely.
My pulse thrashed in my ears, a marching drum that drowned out every other thought.
The captain.
The man who taught me how to tie knots.
Who brought me sweets on winter nights.
Who tucked a blanket over my shoulders when I fell asleep on the training field.
The man my parents trusted.
He had killed them.
He had betrayed us.
Betrayed me.
Everything I had ever believed about my own childhood twisted into something foul.
My hands clenched the sheets so tightly the fabric groaned.
I had escaped the fog—
but my kingdom hadn't.
They were still trapped.
Still suffering.
Still trusting leaders who led them to death.
If the captain was willing to strike down a king and queen…
What would he do now that I was gone?
What would he tell the people?
What lies had he woven while the fog swallowed everything whole?
The thought hit me like a stone thrown into a lake, rippling outward in cold waves:
If I don't return soon, there may not be a kingdom left to save.
Jerry shuffled closer, suddenly cautious.
"Mavis… your face looks scary."
"Good," I muttered.
Because I felt scary.
For the first time since arriving in Arouz, a clear, sharp purpose carved itself into my mind:
I had to get stronger.
Not just to pass the exams.
Not just to keep up appearances.
Not even to satisfy Hel.
I needed strength so that when I returned home—
I could rip the captain and every traitor like him out of the roots of my kingdom.
I needed to be strong enough that no one could ever touch my people again.
No fog.
No betrayal.
No false leaders.
Jerry peeked up at me.
"What are you planning?"
I stared at the infirmary wall, jaw tight.
"Something simple," I said quietly.
"Something long overdue."
He gulped.
I continued, the words tasting like cold iron.
"I'm going to get strong."
My voice dropped, steady and calm as the deep sea.
"And then I'm going home."