The door creaked softly as Sandro and Matilda slipped into the Prince's bedroom. It was nothing like they had imagined. They expected dust, cobwebs, or signs of decay. Instead, the room was pristine. Fresh flowers sat in a vase on the windowsill. The bed was neatly made, sheets crisp. Clothes were folded carefully in an open wardrobe. Every detail screamed that someone visited here often—probably the Chief's wife, keeping her son's memory alive.
Matilda and Sandro quietly began searching.
She peeked into drawers, scanned shelves, and checked under the bed, but found nothing unusual. "There's nothing," Matilda whispered, sighing in frustration. "No letters, no hidden weapons, not even a single clue." Sandro stayed silent, his eyes scanning the floor near the entrance. Matilda turned to leave, but then paused. Her eyes caught on a pair of heavy boots tucked neatly behind the door. They were stained with mud—dark, reddish mud.
Curious, Matilda crouched down. "This mud..." she murmured. "It's different from the dry, dusty soil here in the village." Sandro knelt beside her. He rubbed a thumb over the dirt. "It's damp," he said, frowning. "And you're right. This texture... it looks like the clay from near the entrance—where the loop starts."
Matilda looked up at him sharply. "But why only these boots? Everything else in this room is spotless." "It means these shoes were worn recently," Sandro said, his voice low. "Likely this morning." Their eyes widened at the same time. Whoa, Matilda thought, impressed. If this guy became a detective, the world would be at peace.
THUMP. THUMP. Heavy footsteps approached from the hallway. Matilda and Sandro froze. The handle turned. "Quick!" Sandro hissed. Matilda didn't hesitate. She dove onto the bed and scrambled under the prince's blanket just as the door swung open.
A palace guard stormed in, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "What are you doing here? No one is allowed in the inner palace!" he barked.
Sandro was sitting on the chair beside the bed, looking the picture of a concerned brother. He stood up slowly, bowing his head. "I apologize, sir. We didn't know. My sister," he gestured to the lump under the blanket, "suddenly felt very dizzy. I brought her into the nearest room to rest."
Matilda let out a weak, pitiful moan from under the covers for effect. The guard's eyes flicked to the bed, then back to Sandro. He seemed to buy it, but his face remained stern.
"There are guest rooms for visitors," he snapped. "Get her up. Follow me."
Still acting weak, Matilda leaned heavily on Sandro's arm as he helped her up. She buried her face in his shoulder to hide her lack of illness. Together, they followed the guard through the winding halls to a small guest room. Once they were inside and the guard had marched away, Matilda threw herself onto the bed, groaning.
"Finally, he's gone," she said, stretching her limbs. Sandro leaned against the wall, a smirk playing on his lips.
"That was close. 'My sister'? Really?"
Matilda laughed lightly, sitting up. "Hey, it worked! I'm experienced at getting out of trouble. Call me 'Master' and I might teach you my ways." Sandro shook his head, sighing.
"Let's go meet the others before they wonder where we disappeared to."
By the time they reached the banquet hall, the celebration had ended. People were gathering their things to leave. Seeing them return, Luna clapped her hands once.
"Good, now everyone's here. Let's head back." As they exited the palace, Sandro caught sight of an older man walking beside the Chief, laughing heartily. He bore a striking resemblance to the Chief, though his hair was grayer. Curious, he leaned closer to Luna.
"Who's that with the Chief?"
"That's the Chief's older brother," Luna replied simply.
"Oh," Sandro nodded, making a mental note.
They continued walking through the quiet streets until they reached their courtyard. Luna turned to them and smiled faintly.
"Alright, it's getting late. You can all go and rest."
With that, she disappeared into her own room.
The students gathered in a small circle in the girls' room. Lily huffed, crossing her arms.
"Another day wasted." The others nodded, though Matilda and Sandro exchanged secretive glances. It hadn't been wasted at all. "Actually," Matilda started, lowering her voice. "We found something."
Ruby crossed her arms, listening intently as they explained the boots. "So, you found fresh mud on boots in the dead Prince's room? Mud that matches the forest?"
Matilda nodded. "Exactly. We're not sure who wore them, but someone was walking near the barrier this morning."
Nico leaned forward, grinning at Sandro. "Ohhh, I was wondering where you two disappeared to. I thought you were... you know..." He waggled his eyebrows suggesting a romantic rendezvous.
Ruby rolled her eyes. "Ignore him." Lily looked up, confused. "But... do zombies even have consciousness? How could a zombie remember to change shoes?"
Matilda sighed. "That's the question. If the zombie Prince changes his shoes... or if someone else is wearing them."
Lily nodded firmly. "Alright. Tonight, I'll keep watch with you."
Both Ruby and Matilda looked at her in surprise. "Really? Are you sure you're up for that?" Ruby asked. "It's scary."
Lily shot her a glance and huffed. "I'm not a child. I can handle it." She crossed her arms defensively. "Who knows, I might even be older than all of you."
Matilda blinked. "Wait—how old are you guys?"
Nico shrugged. "Nineteen."
Ruby said, "Twenty."
Sandro added, "Twenty."
"Matilda?" Nico prompted. "Nineteen," she replied.
They all looked at Lily. Lily folded her arms, looking smug. "Twenty-one."
They all froze. Then, in perfect unison, they groaned. "She's... actually the oldest?" Nico whispered, horrified.
"We're being babysat by the crybaby?" Ruby muttered. Lily smirked, looking quite pleased with herself. "Respect your elders, kids."
That night, they kept their watch. Through the window, they spotted the Zombie King wandering near the square. He wore the crown... but on his feet were the same old, torn loafers he always wore.
Lily frowned, pointing. "See? I told you. Zombies don't change their shoes. Those aren't the muddy boots."
Matilda bit her lip. "So... if the Prince didn't wear the boots in his room... who did?"
"Someone alive," Sandro whispered. "Someone who lives in the palace."
The next day, the group stood near the village entrance by the familiar rock marked with the X. Matilda bent down, scooping up a handful of the reddish, damp clay. "This is it," she said. "This is the same mud from the boots."
Nico raised an eyebrow. "Okay, so someone from the palace walked all the way out here to the edge of the loop. Why?"
Before anyone could respond, Sandro spotted movement in the distance. "Hide," he hissed. "Someone's coming." They ducked behind the bushes just as a man walked into the clearing. Matilda squinted through the leaves.
"Do you know him?"
Sandro nodded, his voice steady but tense. "That's the Chief's older brother." The group exchanged glances. The Chief's brother was walking alone, at the edge of the village, near the loop. They had found their next lead.