Part 1: Leonard’s Inner Struggle
Leonard stirred from his uneasy slumber, the remnants of fragmented dreams still lingering in his mind. His eyelids fluttered open, greeted by the dim glow of candlelight flickering across the walls. It was evening. He must have slept through the entire day, something that hadn't happened in a long time. The silence in his room felt heavier than usual, a suffocating weight pressing on his chest.
His fingers brushed the fabric of his torn shirt, now dried in places from the blood that had once soaked it. The necklace—the pendant that had been burned into his skin, a symbol of his cursed fate—lay against his collarbone, hidden beneath the folds of fabric. He could still feel its pull, as though it were alive, breathing against him. And that feeling had only grown stronger with time.
As he sat up, the unsettling images from the Abyss Veil began to flood his thoughts. The red shadow, the pain, the curse—Freya Ravencroft. Her image lingered in his mind like an unfinished puzzle, one he couldn’t quite solve, yet one that seemed bound to him. Her curse... what was it? How was it tied to him? To the darkness that enveloped the Veil?
Leonard stood up, pacing across the small room. The sensation of being watched hadn’t left him. It gnawed at the edges of his consciousness like a distant whisper—an insistent pressure that refused to fade, no matter how hard he tried to shake it. He didn’t know whether it was a figment of his imagination or something real, something lurking in the unseen spaces between worlds.
“No more distractions,” he muttered under his breath, forcing himself to focus. He couldn't afford to lose himself in doubt. Not now. Not when everything seemed to be falling apart.
But as he stared into the mirror across the room, his reflection looked distant, foreign even. His blue eyes met his own, yet there was something about them that felt off. Was it fear? Curiosity? Or was it the growing realization that he was no longer just Leonard Astreus—he was someone else entirely. Someone who had walked into a world that didn't belong to him, a world where the boundaries between the living and the dead, the gods and the mortals, were more fragile than he could ever have imagined.
His hand instinctively reached for the pendant again, the cool metal cold against his skin. He had to know more. About the curse. About Freya. About his power. Every instinct told him he was being pulled into something far greater than he could understand.
But the question remained: Was he in control of this power, or was it in control of him?
A knock at the door broke his reverie, the sound pulling him back into reality. It was a familiar voice, calling from the hallway.
“Leonard, dinner’s ready. Are you just going to sleep through the whole day again?”
Maya.
With a sigh, Leonard turned away from the mirror. As much as he wished he could delve deeper into the mysteries swirling around him, he knew there was no escaping the world outside the walls of his room. Not yet. Maya was waiting for him.
Part 2: Dinner and the Return of Maria Saintword
Leonard barely had time to settle at the dinner table before Maya entered the room, her usual playful grin plastered on her face. She had a certain energy to her tonight, one that made Leonard immediately curious about her day.
“Dinner’s ready!” she chirped, motioning toward the table. But before he could even reach for the bread basket, she added with a sly smile, “You know, Maria Saintword practically stalked me today.”
Leonard froze, his hand hovering above the bread. “Maria Saintword? The Holy Knight?”
Maya snickered, pulling out her chair with exaggerated flair. “Yep, the one and only. Seems like she’s really taken a liking to the Astraeus household. I swear, every time I turn around, she’s right there.” She let out an amused sigh, shaking her head. “It’s starting to feel like she's shadowing me. Might have to start charging her rent if she keeps this up.”
Leonard couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Sounds like you’re her next target.”
Maya rolled her eyes as she took her seat, digging into her bowl of soup. “Hardly. She's just... always around. It’s honestly getting kind of weird. Anyway, that’s not the half of it.” Her tone turned more serious, but there was a distinct edge of excitement in her voice now. “I overheard some juicy gossip at the market today."
Leonard set his utensils down slowly, his curiosity piqued despite his better judgment. “Gossip?”
Maya leaned forward, her voice lowering as if to share a secret. “Apparently, there’s some big buzz about a stolen artifact. Something from the Empire’s Museum of War Trophies. They say the cult—yes, the evil one we’ve been hearing about—was involved. Word is, they stole it right from under the Empire’s nose. Some kind of powerful relic, though no one knows exactly what it is. But guess what?”
Leonard’s brow furrowed, his attention fully locked onto her. “What?”
Maya paused for effect, letting the silence stretch a moment too long. “The whole thing’s been sealed by the capital. Not a whisper of it is being leaked to the public.”
The words hit Leonard like a cold wave, and he felt an involuntary shiver run down his spine. A stolen artifact? From the Empire’s museum? If this was true, it was more than just rumors—it could be a sign that the cult had far more reach and power than anyone realized. But the fact that the capital had sealed the information... that alone made it even more suspicious.
“Sealed?” Leonard echoed, trying to maintain a calm composure. “By the Holy Knight Order?”
Maya shrugged nonchalantly, as if she hadn’t just dropped a bombshell. “Who knows? But I’d bet it’s them. They don’t like things getting out of hand. And of course, there are all these whispers about the cult’s involvement in something bigger. Maybe they were trying to use it for some kind of ritual or power play. Who can say?”
Leonard tried to keep his face neutral, though his mind was racing. An artifact of unknown power, linked to the cult... If the Order had sealed this information, it could mean they were aware of the cult's dark plans—or worse, that they were trying to keep the public in the dark to avoid mass panic. But why?
Maya, oblivious to the storm brewing in Leonard’s mind, continued. “What I do know is that people are scared. The whole market was talking about it today. They say someone named Leonard Astraeus survived the cult’s latest attack, but no one knows how. It’s like a ghost story.”
Leonard stiffened at the mention of his name, but Maya didn’t notice, too caught up in the excitement of the rumor mill. “They say the cult’s still out there, operating in the shadows. Honestly, I can’t help but think it’s all a little far-fetched, you know? But still, it’s crazy to think that someone like you survived whatever happened.”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Leonard nodded absentmindedly, his mind on everything but dinner now. Maya’s teasing felt like a distant hum in the background, his thoughts consumed by the gravity of the conversation. The cult’s ambitions, the stolen artifact... And then Maria Saintword, watching over the whole situation like some divine enforcer.
Maya finally finished her meal and pushed her bowl aside, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied sigh. “Well, I’m heading to bed. I’ve got to catch up on some things tomorrow. If I happen to run into Maria again, maybe I’ll ask her to leave you an autograph,” she joked as she stood, flashing Leonard a wink.
“Please, don’t,” Leonard said dryly, trying to mask the anxiety bubbling inside him.
Maya laughed lightly, her footsteps fading as she left the room, leaving Leonard alone with his thoughts.
Once she was gone, Leonard leaned back in his chair, his gaze falling on the window that framed the moonlit night. He was grateful for the dinner—small, comforting—but his mind was too tangled in new worries. The cult, the stolen artifact, his name whispered in the dark corners of the city. And then Maria Saintword, so close, perhaps unknowingly on his trail.
The weight of it all pressed down on him. He knew this was no coincidence. Something far darker was unfolding, and he might be at the center of it all.
Part 3 - Leonard's Dilemma
Two hours passed since dinner, and the quiet of the evening settled over the Astraeus household. Leonard sat at his desk, trying to focus, but his mind wandered endlessly. The mysteries surrounding the cult, the princess, the curse—it was all too much to process. Every time he thought he had a lead, another question would arise, and the cycle would repeat itself.
He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes, exhausted from the mental strain. The quiet hum of the house seemed louder now, as if the stillness was closing in around him.
Just then, the door creaked open, and Maya walked in carrying a tray. "I figured you could use a bit of tea," she said, setting the tray down beside him. "You’ve been buried in your thoughts for hours now."
Leonard gave a small, tired smile, nodding in gratitude. He’d lost track of time, but Maya always seemed to know when he needed a break.
“Thanks,” he said, picking up the cup she offered. The warmth from the tea seeped into his hands, grounding him slightly. “I didn’t even realize how late it’s gotten.”
Maya sat down across from him, folding her arms. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a decent conversation, so, what’s this new book you’re working on? Curses, cults, and princesses? Sounds like a lot.”
Leonard took a sip of the tea, considering his words. “Yeah, a new book. It's about a princess’s curse, but it’s also tied to something bigger. Cults, hidden gods, strange rituals… all sorts of things.”
Maya raised an eyebrow, her voice light but teasing. “A book about curses and cults, huh? You’ve really got a talent for picking the most obscure topics. Are you sure you’re not writing some dark fantasy story instead of a real book?”
Leonard chuckled weakly, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was truth to her teasing. His focus had shifted far from writing fiction, and everything felt much more real than he was prepared for.
Maya sighed, shifting in her seat. “You know, our parents’ savings are going to run out soon if we don’t figure something out. Hopefully, this book of yours will sell, or we’re down to the last 800 francs.”
She smiled lightly, but Leonard could hear the concern buried beneath her words. They both knew the pressure was mounting, but there was only so much they could do.
"Yeah," he muttered, glancing down at the half-empty cup in his hands. "I'll make it work. Somehow."
Maya's expression softened slightly. "Well, if you're serious about this book of yours and want to research curses, you should head to the library in the capital. I know you still have your student pass from the college, so you can get in for free. It's better than paying the five cents they charge for a normal visitor, right?"
Leonard paused for a moment, considering her suggestion. The capital’s library was well-known for its vast collection of rare books and manuscripts, some of which might help him understand the strange occurrences he was dealing with. It was an opportunity to find more answers.
“Maybe I’ll take you up on that,” he said, setting the cup down and standing. “I’ll see what I can dig up.”
Maya nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Just don’t get too lost in all that creepy stuff. You know how I feel about all this ‘hidden gods’ nonsense."
Leonard smiled faintly, watching her leave the room. The weight of the decisions ahead still pressed on him, but for the first time in a while, he felt a small sense of purpose stirring within him. The questions he had were growing, and he could feel that his search for answers was only just beginning.
Part 4 - Leonard's Dilemma Part 2
The capital’s grand library stood as a towering structure, its facade an intricate blend of classical Victorian architecture and steampunk influences. Tall, curved windows lined the stone walls, with brass gears visible through the panes, turning slowly and constantly as if to keep time in motion. The cobbled streets were still damp from the previous night’s rain, glistening under the early morning sun. The air was crisp, with the faint scent of fresh bread wafting from nearby bakeries, as the city slowly began to stir to life.
Outside, horse-drawn carriages clattered along the cobblestones, their wooden wheels creaking as they carried people to and from their destinations. The horses’ hooves echoed through the streets, adding to the symphony of early-morning sounds—the low murmur of conversations, the clatter of shop shutters being raised, and the occasional whistle of a steam-powered lamp post flickering to life. The city was a place where magic and technology coexisted seamlessly, but today, it was the quiet, rhythmic sound of hooves that dominated the morning air.
As Leonard walked towards the library, the busy streets were already bustling with the early crowd—merchants setting up their stalls, workers hurrying to their jobs, and nobles on their way to meetings. He noticed a mix of races moving through the crowd—elves dressed in finely tailored coats, their pointed ears peeking out from beneath hoods, dwarves with broad shoulders and sturdy boots, and humans dressed in rich fabrics, all moving together in harmonious disarray.
The library itself was a sanctuary of knowledge. Inside, the wooden floors creaked softly underfoot, and rows upon rows of bookshelves stretched high above, filled with leather-bound volumes and delicate scrolls. Brass railings wound up to higher levels, where more books were kept behind glass walls, some seemingly untouched for centuries. The library’s ceiling arched upward, with chandeliers hanging from the beams, casting a soft, amber glow over everything. It was a strange fusion of the old and new—books alongside magical artifacts, gears interlaced with ancient tomes.
Leonard approached the front desk, where an elf woman stood, her pale skin and delicate features marking her as one of the ancient race. She wore a crisp white blouse under a brown corset, the laces winding up tightly, and a long skirt embroidered with arcane symbols. Her silver hair was pulled back in a neat braid that fell over her shoulder, and her amber eyes scanned Leonard as he approached, though her expression remained neutral.
"Good morning, sir. How may I assist you?" she asked in a soft, melodic voice.
"I’m looking for some research materials on curses," Leonard replied, trying to hide the unease that still lingered in his chest after the strange occurrences. "Particularly about evil gods, cults, and their magic."
The elf woman raised an eyebrow and nodded, walking over to a nearby shelf. As she passed, Leonard caught sight of a few tomes that looked even older than the library itself, their spines written in languages he couldn’t recognize.
"I can help you with that," she said, her voice almost too quiet. "But... some books have been recently restricted. The Holy Order Knights took them off public access a few days ago."
"Restricted?" Leonard echoed, frowning. "What kind of books?"
"Books related to dark magic, curses, and rituals involving the gods," she explained, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Holy Order... they’re very careful about what the public sees. They believe some knowledge is too dangerous."
Leonard felt a knot form in his stomach, wondering just how much the Holy Order was keeping from the public. He was beginning to realize that the more he uncovered, the deeper the conspiracy ran.
He nodded, though his mind was elsewhere. He thanked the librarian and moved on to the next section, but before he could get far, something else caught his attention—a feeling, subtle yet unsettling, as if someone was watching him. He glanced over his shoulder, but there was no one nearby. The sensation lingered, gnawing at the back of his mind.
As he stepped back out into the busy street, the feeling of being followed persisted, growing stronger as he made his way toward the nearest carriage stop. He glanced around again, but the streets were packed with people, their faces a blur as he moved through the crowd.
He eventually reached the carriage station and boarded a ride back home, but the sensation remained, creeping under his skin. Something—or someone—was tailing him.