I lay on the cold wooden floor, breath shallow, skin slick with blood and rain. It felt like midnight—the kind that swallowed sound and time. A sliver of moonlight pierced the gloom through a tiny hole in the wall. Pale and trembling, I reached for it, drawn to that quiet gleam as if it might prove this wasn't a nightmare.
My hand, small, bloodstained, trembled as I struggled to stand. Pain flared in my leg, but I forced myself upright, limping toward the light. Somewhere in the blur of my memory, Clara's voice whispered. She had pressed a quartz stone into my hand and said it was lucky. I didn't believe in luck, but I believed in desperation.
With shaking fingers, I pulled the quartz from my pocket and began scraping it against the wall. Softly, slowly. Over and over. I dared not make a sound. The wood resisted at first, but soon faint scratches appeared, then more. A patch of worn grain thinned beneath my feet. When I pressed against it gently, the hole widened just enough to reveal a narrow space beyond, round, like the shape of a spinning fan.
I couldn't fit. Not with the dress tangled around my legs like chains. I tore at the fabric, ripping it into something shorter, more skirt than gown—and slipped through, limping as I ran. Branches clawed at my skin, the wind cold against the blood and bruises. My vision blurred, and somewhere between one breath and the next, the world tipped sideways.
I collapsed in the woods, darkness closing in.
It found me again—the darkness. Heavy and endless. I couldn't move, couldn't even scream. My hand reached instinctively toward the pain I remembered, but the blood was gone. No wounds. Just scars. I must be dreaming.
Then a light stirred in the void. Soft, pulsing.
"Don't worry, Eve," a voice murmured. "I won't let you be harmed again."
It was the same voice I'd heard before. When I'd fallen.
Heat bloomed in my body, spreading from my chest outward. I gasped—and woke.
A campfire crackled quietly before me, casting dancing shadows over the forest clearing. I sat up slowly, eyes wide, examining my hands. The bruises, the wounds—they were gone. In their place, faint silver scars glimmered in the firelight.
What…? How am I healed?
I had no answers—only questions piling atop each other like falling stones. But a rustle in the nearby bushes silenced them all. Panic surged through me. I scrambled to my feet, heart pounding, and bolted in the opposite direction.
Branches snapped. Leaves whipped past my face.
Then—impact. I slammed into someone.
"Please, don't hurt me!" I cried, stumbling backward, desperate to flee again.
"Wait!" the stranger said.
I struggled to break free of his grasp.
"It's me, Lily," he said gently. "It's Julian."
I froze.
It took a moment for my eyes to recognize the face—mud-smeared, worried, but familiar. Julian. My brother.
Relief shattered through me like glass.
"Big Brother…" I sobbed, throwing myself into his arms. I clung to him as if the world might fall apart if I let go.
"I've got you," he whispered, stroking my tangled hair, his voice a balm against the raw edges of my panic. "Your big brother is here."
Tears still clung to my lashes as I looked up at him. "How… how did you find me?"
Julian met my gaze, something fierce and unwavering behind his eyes. "Don't worry about that," he said softly. "The only thing that matters is that you're safe. You're here."
His arms wrapped tighter around me, like he could shield me from every cruel thing the world had to offer.
"Let's go home, Lily."
Home. The word almost didn't sound real. I blinked, dazed. "But what about your meeting? Wasn't it important?"
Julian gave a half-smile, tired but warm. "Nothing's more important than you."
He cupped my cheek, thumb brushing away a tear I hadn't realized was still falling. "You're my little sister. There's nothing in this world I'd trade for you."
Something in me cracked at those words, the last of my defenses crumbling. I nodded slowly, clutching his hand as if it anchored me to the earth.
"Okay," I whispered. "Let's go home."
Three Days Earlier
"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!" My voice cracked through the polished halls of the hotel, sharp enough to rattle the crystal chandeliers. I had already risen to my feet before Clara could finish her trembling sentence. She stood before me, the maid I had entrusted with my sister's life—her hands wringing the hem of her apron, her face pale.
"Lady Lily… she's missing," Clara said softly, as if the words themselves might shatter if spoken too loudly.
"Missing?" I echoed, disbelief morphing into rage. "You were supposed to escort her to Elyndor!"
"I—I tried," she whispered. "Please, forgive me, Duke Hartwell. I lost her in the crowd—I didn't mean to—"
But I was already gone.
I shoved past her and tore through the hotel doors into the night. The city of Elyndor stretched before me, aglow with lanterns and full of strangers. I didn't care. I ran into the thick of the market, pushing past carts and shouting Lily's name into the night.
"Lily!" I cried again and again, until my throat was raw and my legs gave out beneath me.
The sun rose, gilding the city in a golden light I couldn't feel. I hadn't found her. Not a trace. Not a whisper.
There was only one man left who might help me.
I found Viscount Duskwright sipping tea in the shaded courtyard of his estate, surrounded by roses that smelled too sweet for the bitterness in my mouth.
"Good morning, Viscount Duskwright," I said, breathless. "Please—I need your help."
The old man looked up, brows furrowed. "Young Duke Hartwell, you look like death. What's happened?"
"My sister… Lily. She's gone. She's missing."
His cup paused midair. He met my gaze, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of sympathy. But then he said, cool as marble, "That's not surprising."
I stiffened. "What do you mean by that?"
He sighed and set his cup down with a clink. "There are many here in Elyndor who suffered under your parents' name. Not all forgive as easily as your family assumes. Perhaps someone wanted retribution."
"You knew this?" I said, stunned. "And you didn't warn me?"
"I respect your father. And you. But I cannot risk my position here by involving myself further."
"You mean you won't help."
He looked away.
"Then don't," I said coldly. "I'll find her myself."
And I did. I asked the knights. Adventurers. Mercenaries. Even spies and assassins. All refused. All turned away when they heard the name Hartwell.
Two days passed. I hadn't slept. I hadn't eaten. But I had not stopped searching.
Then I saw them—gold coins left in the hotel room Lily never returned to. A clue. A direction.
I knew what I had to do.
If it costs me everything, then so be it.
I gathered the last of the Hartwell estate's treasures—280,000 gold coins—and offered them as a reward to anyone who could find Lily. I surrendered deeds, including the Hartwell family island, into the hands of the Royal Court, demanding their resources to aid my search.
Title, property, pride—none of it mattered.
I would burn it all down to bring my sister home.