Elara's POV
Prince Cassian is still in the library when I wake at dawn.
I know because I can see candlelight under the study room door. He never left. He stayed here all night, reading.
Something twists in my chest—part curiosity, part concern I have no right to feel.
I busy myself with morning duties, trying not to think about him. But my eyes keep drifting to that closed door, wondering what he's found in those books. Wondering what he's searching for.
At eight o'clock, Master Theron arrives and nearly has a heart attack when I tell him the prince is still here.
"His Highness has been here all night?" Theron's face goes pale. "Why didn't you inform me?"
"He asked not to be disturbed, sir."
Theron rushes toward the study room, then pauses. "Did he... did he seem satisfied with the materials?"
"I don't know, sir. He didn't speak to me."
Theron nods like this is expected. Of course the prince wouldn't speak to the ghost girl.
"Go to the basement," Theron orders. "And stay there. His Highness doesn't need distractions."
Translation: Stay out of sight where you belong.
I descend to the basement as ordered, but my mind stays upstairs. What is Prince Cassian looking for? Why does he care about lunar magic?
The questions eat at me all morning.
At noon, I slip away for my daily visit to Iris. But today feels different. The city feels wrong—like the air itself is holding its breath.
Mrs. Hilda opens the door looking worried. "She's been asking for you since dawn. Something has her upset."
I find Iris sitting on her bed, hugging her knees to her chest.
"Mama," she whispers when she sees me. "The dark man from my dream. He's close now. I can feel him."
"What do you mean, sweetheart?"
"He's looking for something. Looking for answers like you are." Her eyes—too old, too knowing—meet mine. "You're going to meet him soon, Mama. And everything will change."
A chill runs down my spine. "Iris, I need you to tell me everything you saw in your dream. About this dark man."
"He's tall. Sad. He remembers things like we do, but longer. So much longer." She grips my hand. "He's important, Mama. The moon wants you to find each other."
"The moon wants—"
"It's broken, Mama. The moon magic is broken. And you and the dark man are the only ones who can see it." Tears fill her eyes. "But someone bad knows about you. Someone who wants to use you."
My blood turns to ice. "Use me how?"
"I don't know. The dreams don't show me everything." She throws her arms around my neck. "I'm scared, Mama. Something big is coming."
I hold her tight, my mind racing. Iris has never been this specific before. Her visions have always been vague, fragmented.
But this sounds like a warning.
About me. About someone who remembers like I do. About danger.
I stay with Iris longer than usual, missing most of my lunch hour. By the time I return to the library, I'm nearly an hour late.
Master Theron is waiting, his face pinched with anger.
"Where have you been?"
"I'm sorry, sir. I felt ill and needed—"
"His Highness asked for assistance with several texts." Theron's voice is sharp. "I had to help him myself because you were absent. Unacceptable, Elara."
Prince Cassian asked for me?
"I apologize, sir. It won't happen again."
"See that it doesn't." Theron waves me toward the basement. "He's gone now, thankfully. Though he'll be returning this evening. When he does, you are to assist him with whatever he needs. And you are to be invisible while doing so. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir."
I spend the afternoon in the basement, but I can't focus. My hands shake as I shelve books. Iris's warning echoes in my mind: The dark man is close. You're going to meet him. Everything will change.
It's just a child's imagination. Mixing dreams with reset memories. It doesn't mean anything.
But when has Iris ever been wrong?
At six o'clock, I hear footsteps upstairs. Deep. Measured. Purposeful.
Prince Cassian has returned.
I stay in the basement like I'm supposed to. Master Theron will handle him. I'm just the ghost girl who—
"Miss Thorne!"
Theron's voice echoes down the stairs. "His Highness requires assistance! Now!"
My stomach drops. I climb the stairs on shaking legs.
Prince Cassian stands in the main reading room, surrounded by stacks of books. He barely glances at me when I approach.
"I need earlier texts," he says, his voice cold and clipped. "First century, anything on lunar temples and time magic origins. Bring everything you have."
"Yes, Your Highness."
I spend the next hour retrieving books from the deepest parts of the restricted section. Ancient texts that crumble at the edges. Scrolls written in languages I don't understand. Knowledge from before the kingdom existed.
Every time I bring a stack to him, he's already deep in the previous pile. Reading with fierce intensity. Making notes in a private journal.
He never thanks me. Never acknowledges me beyond pointing at where to set the books.
I'm furniture to him. A tool.
But I can't stop watching him when he's not looking. There's something desperate in the way he searches through pages. Something almost... broken.
Like he's looking for salvation in these dusty books.
At nine o'clock, Master Theron leaves for the night. I'm alone with the prince.
The library feels too quiet. Too intimate.
I retreat to my corner and try to read my own book, giving him space. But I'm hyperaware of his presence. The scratch of his pen. The rustle of turning pages. His occasional frustrated sigh.
Hours pass.
At eleven o'clock, I should tell him the library is closing. But I don't. I let him read.
Eleven-thirty.
Eleven forty-five.
My pocket watch ticks toward midnight. Toward the reset hour.
I tense, waiting for the familiar pull. Wondering what crime I'll witness tonight. What secret will burn itself into my memory while everyone else forgets.
Eleven fifty-eight.
One minute until the reset.
I glance toward Prince Cassian. He's still reading, unaware that in sixty seconds, time will rewind and erase the last hour.
Fifty-nine.
Fifty-eight.
My hands grip my journal. I should move to a more private spot before the reset happens. I don't want anyone seeing me during that moment when reality shivers and breaks.
Thirty seconds.
I stand quietly, trying not to disturb him.
That's when Prince Cassian looks up.
Our eyes meet across the reading room.
And something impossible happens.
His expression changes. The cold mask cracks. His eyes widen with something that looks like shock.
Like he feels it too.
The pull.
The reset.
Fifteen seconds.
"You—" he starts to say, rising from his chair.
Ten seconds.
My heart pounds. No. This can't be happening. He can't feel it. Nobody else ever feels it.
Five seconds.
He takes a step toward me, his face filled with desperate understanding.
Three.
Two.
One.
Midnight strikes.
The world shatters and rewinds.
I feel time sliding backward like it always does—that familiar cold grip dragging me through the hour. Reality blurs and reforms.
When it settles, my pocket watch reads 11:00 PM.
The reset is complete.
I'm still standing in the same spot, journal clutched to my chest.
And across the room, Prince Cassian stands frozen.
Staring at me.
Still staring.
Which means he didn't forget.
Which means—
"You remember," he says, his voice barely a whisper. "You remember the reset."
The world tilts sideways.
For five years, I've been alone with this curse. For five years, nobody has believed me. Nobody has understood.
But Prince Cassian is looking at me like I'm the answer to a question he's been asking for years.
"How long?" he asks, moving closer. "How long have you been remembering?"
I can't speak. Can't breathe.
He remembers.
Someone else finally remembers.
"Five years," I manage to whisper.
Something breaks across his face—relief so profound it's almost pain.
"Twelve years," he says. "I've been remembering for twelve years."
The library spins around me. Twelve years. He's been cursed twice as long as me. Alone with memories nobody else carries for twelve years.
"I thought I was the only one," I whisper.
"So did I." He's standing right in front of me now, and I can see the weight he carries in his eyes. The same exhaustion. The same isolation. The same desperate hope. "What's your name?"
"Elara Thorne."
"Elara." He says it like he's testing the shape of it. "I've been searching for others like me for twelve years. And you were here the whole time. In this library."
"I didn't know you remembered. I thought I was alone."
"You're not alone." His hand reaches out like he wants to touch me, to make sure I'm real. Then he stops himself. "We need to talk. Properly. Away from here. There's so much I need to tell you."
"I don't understand. Why do we remember? What's wrong with us?"
"Nothing is wrong with us." His voice turns fierce. "The moon magic is broken. Corrupted. And we're the only ones who can see it because—"
He cuts himself off, eyes widening.
"What?" I ask. "Because why?"
But Cassian has gone completely still, staring past me at something only he can see.
"No," he breathes. "Not now. Not yet."
"What's wrong?"
He grabs my shoulders, his grip urgent. "Listen to me carefully. In exactly four weeks, on the next full moon, something terrible is going to happen. I've been researching for months, trying to prevent it. But I've been missing a piece. Someone else who remembers. Someone who can help me."
"Help you do what?"
His eyes meet mine, and what I see there makes my blood freeze.
"Stop my own murder," he says. "And possibly yours."
Before I can respond, before I can even process those words, the library doors burst open.
Royal guards flood in, followed by a man in council robes.
"Your Highness!" the man calls. "Your presence is required at the palace immediately. There's been an incident."
Cassian's hands drop from my shoulders. His mask slams back into place—cold, controlled, untouchable.
But before he turns away, he leans close and whispers in my ear: "Meet me tomorrow night. Midnight. The Obsidian Tower. Come alone."
Then he's gone, striding out with the guards like he wasn't just telling me we're both going to be murdered.
I stand alone in the empty library, shaking.
Prince Cassian remembers the resets.
We're both cursed.
And in four weeks, something is going to kill us.
I press my hand to my chest, feeling my heart racing.
Iris was right.
The dark man from her visions. The one who's been alone for so long. The one who remembers.
It's Prince Cassian.
And tomorrow night, I'm supposed to meet him alone in a tower, when he might be the very person who kills me.
I look down at my trembling hands and realize something.
For the first time in five years, I'm not alone in this nightmare.
But I might have just traded one kind of hell for something much, much worse.