---
---
The morning light poured gently through the curtains, but it brought Elena no warmth. She sat still on the edge of her bed, her mind caught between dream and memory, reality and illusion.
Had it all really happened? The mirror. The forest. The words she read—"Your awakening is near."
She wasn't sure what was real anymore.
The cool air kissed her skin as she slowly stood, forcing herself to move. Maybe a bath would help her think more clearly. She stepped into the adjoining washroom, and her eyes instantly caught the large mirror mounted on the wall.
It stared back at her, silent and motionless. Still, something about it made her chest tighten.
Cautiously, Elena stepped closer. Her hand rose, trembling, and hovered near the surface—then made contact.
Crack.
A sharp noise split the silence as a thin line crawled across the glass like a spider's web.
She gasped, jerking backward in fear.
Then—
Knock. Knock.
Elena spun toward the door, heart racing.
"Miss, Master Lucien said not to forget your bandage change," a maid's voice called through the door, then faded down the hall.
Elena turned back.
The mirror was whole again.
Her fingers clenched by her sides. Was she losing her sanity?
No… she couldn't think like that.
Without another glance at the mirror, she bathed quickly. The warm water did little to calm her nerves. She dressed in a simple cream gown—elegant, yet soft on the skin. This time, she left her hair loose, letting it fall around her shoulders.
She needed fresh air. Space to breathe.
The garden. Yes. That's where she would go.
---
The scent of blooming roses greeted her the moment she stepped outside. The garden was quiet, soaked in sunlight and birdsong. Her fingers brushed along flower petals as she walked between hedges, letting the world blur around her.
For the first time in days, she felt like herself—at least a little.
"You look lovely when you're not trying to escape," a voice teased behind her.
Elena flinched, spinning around.
Darius stood there, a smirk tugging at his lips, eyes fixed on her.
"Aren't you angry that I tried to escape?" she asked, her tone more curious than defensive.
"Of course I am," he replied, taking a slow step forward. "But you didn't succeed—and that's all that matters."
She turned away from him, pretending to admire the roses again, though her chest thudded at his presence.
"You know," he murmured, walking closer, "sometimes it's better to ask questions than to die in curiosity."
Before she could respond, his arms were around her, his chest pressed lightly against her back. She froze.
"Because sometimes," he whispered, lowering his head near the crook of her neck, "the answers lead to something beautiful... or dangerous."
His hand slid over hers—the one holding the flower.
In that moment, the flower withered and died.
Elena gasped, pulling away quickly and facing him, her breath uneven.
"When you said visions yesterday… what did you mean?" she asked.
Darius's eyes met hers, but something darker swam beneath his usual calm.
"A past long forgotten," he said. "One that dreads to return."
Images flooded her mind—flashes of chains, blood, screaming.
"I had a dream before I was sold," she confessed. "There were chains… blood. And the next day, it happened exactly like in the dream. How is that possible?"
"Because your awakening has begun," he said, voice soft but certain.
There it was again—awakening.
She looked at him, desperate for clarity. "What is awakening in me?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he stepped closer, his expression unreadable. "Don't linger on things that are yet to come, little flame," he said gently. "They'll find you when the time is right."
And with that, he turned and left the garden, disappearing behind the hedges.
Elena stood still, her eyes fixed on the withered rose in her palm.
She didn't understand any of it—but something deep inside her knew…
She was changing.
And whatever this awakening was—it had already begun.
Elena sat on her bed, her arms folded, frustration burning quietly in her chest. No one would give her answers. Every time she asked something, they gave her riddles or vague half-truths. She wasn't crazy. Something was happening to her. She could feel it.
Her gaze dropped to her bandaged foot. She remembered the pain, the sting of the cut when she'd tried to escape. But in the garden earlier, she hadn't felt it at all.
Curious, she unwrapped the bandage, slowly peeling it away.
There was nothing. No blood. No wound. Not even a scar.
Elena stared at her foot in disbelief. "Okay... I must be losing my mind."
She pressed her heel into the floor, then stomped lightly. Nothing. No pain.
Panic curled in her chest. "What the hell is happening to me?" she whispered, standing quickly and pacing. "Am I... some kind of monster?"
She froze.
She'd always known she was adopted. But was there something her adoptive family hadn't told her? Was she... not human?
Still shaken, she walked over to the nightstand and stared hard at the vase that had moved the day before. Her breath quickened. She focused, narrowing her eyes.
And then—it lifted.
The vase floated, trembled in the air, and crashed to the ground with a loud shatter.
Elena gasped, heart racing. She backed away from the broken pieces, her hands trembling.
A knock came at the door.
"Miss? Is everything alright?" a maid's voice asked gently.
"Yes! Just—just dropped something. It's fine," she called out quickly, forcing her voice to steady.
She turned back to the broken vase and knelt beside it, staring at the pieces. Should she tell Darius?
Would he even give her real answers?
---
In the study, Darius leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. The fire crackled softly in the hearth.
"Lucan hasn't returned yet," Lucien said, standing beside the table. "It's been days."
"I told him to take his time," Darius replied calmly, though his tone was heavy. "The deaths occurring in the eastern territories… they're not random."
Lucien's jaw tightened. "It's like someone is sending a message."
"They know," Darius said simply. "They know she's awakening."
Lucien nodded. "She's beginning to accept it, you know. Asking questions. Feeling the change. It won't be long now."
Darius didn't respond at once. Instead, a flicker of memory rose from the depths of his mind.
The garden. Warm sunlight filtering through the trees.
A little girl running barefoot through the grass, her laughter bright and wild. Her eyes—soft blue-gray, filled with joy.
"Little flame, not too fast," he had called. "We wouldn't want you getting hurt."
She turned, a radiant grin on her face, and ran into his arms, stretching up a small fist. "Here. For you."
He looked down to see a small rose in her hand, its petals the color of firelight.
"A gift?" he asked.
She nodded. "A gift for you."
He wasn't used to receiving things. Not like this. Not with warmth. But she was different.
He crouched, taking the rose from her, careful not to crush it.
"Little flame," he murmured, brushing her hair behind her ear, "you shouldn't give flowers like this to just anyone. They carry hidden meanings."
She frowned, lips trembling. "Oh…"
He smiled—gently. "But I'm an exception, aren't I?"
She nodded again, a spark returning to her face.
"Come now. Let's go inside," he said, lifting her into his arms. She wrapped hers around his neck, still smiling.
Back in the study, Darius opened a drawer and retrieved the same rose. It was perfectly preserved—enchanted. Its color hadn't faded in all these years.
"Very soon," he whispered, staring at the petals. "Things will return to what they were."
---
Back in her room, Elena sat in silence, staring at the broken pieces of the vase. The air felt different now—charged, like something ancient had stirred within her.
Everything inside her screamed for clarity. But even in her fear, even in her confusion... she knew one thing:
She wasn't the same girl who had arrived at the manor.