In the dimness of night, amidst the gentle evening breeze, the high moon high in the sky spills a soft radiance through the windows.

I sighed as I unfolded the note that had slipped through my room's door.

‘Please meet me at the main stairs at 9 o’clock tonight. – R’

There were still five minutes until nine, and I had no idea who had left the note. It was strange, to say the least. Most people spent this time in their rooms, winding down for the night. I didn't sense any immediate danger, but the peculiar note left me with more questions than answers.

Questions that can only be answered once I follow the directions.

I stepped out of my room and made my way through the guest room next door, past the study, the lounge, and the prayer room.

When I reached the stairs, I found a child there – a girl with straight, black hair and hazel eyes. I had only been in this house for a week, and I knew there was only one child: Riaveric, the Viscount's youngest daughter.

"H-Hi," she stammered as I approached. "You're... my new sister, right?" She looked away, avoiding my gaze, and a wave of uneasiness washed over her. It was our first time meeting in person – she always stayed in her room – and the awkwardness was understandable, but something felt off.

"My name is Thyra," I said gently. "His Lordship, the Viscount, adopted me. That makes us sisters. Your name is Riaveric, right?" She nodded, a bead of sweat trickling down her temple and onto her cheek. Was she nervous?

"I ... asked us to meet because I think there's something you should know about this house," she said, biting her lip nervously. She then grabbed my wrist, her grip surprisingly strong. "Follow me."

Without a word, I followed her lead, and she ushered me into her room. She locked the door behind us, leaving me with a head full of questions and a growing sense of unease.

"Nobody should hear us here," she whispered, letting out a sigh of relief. "I've been wanting to talk to you for days, but I've been working up the courage. It's not easy seeing my sister gone and replaced so quickly. But the reason I wanted to talk to you is because I need your help."

“Help?”

"I ... I want justice for my sister," she said, puffing out her cheeks and biting her lip. "Erinna might be dead, but she's ... still here."

My throat went dry as I absorbed her confession. It felt like I'd learned something I shouldn't have. How could the dead be here? Was she hallucinating out of grief, or was she clinging to memories, convincing herself that Erinna was still with her?

A jumble of possibilities swirled in my mind, yet I knew none of my assumptions were true.

“What do you mean?”

"I meant it literally," she said, her intense gaze turning watery. "Because Father ..." Her voice cracked with emotion. "... exhumed Erinna's dead body from her grave because he couldn't accept she was gone. He hid her body in her room and forbade the servants from going in. They have no idea what he's hiding. Mother knows Father has gone mad, but that's all. Only the three of us know Erinna's body is kept there. It makes me anxious and scared at night, because I keep seeing Erinna in my dreams, begging for help. The truth is, she told me how she died in one of those dreams, but I can't confirm anything, even if it's true.”

Erinna's body exhumed by the Viscount? This is madness. I knew from the start he couldn't accept his daughter's death, but I never imagined he'd go this far.

This is just the beginning of the madness in this house, I'm sure of it. This might be crazy enough, but I'm certain it'll lead to things darker than I can even imagine.

It wouldn't be surprising if there was a stench in the room, or even wafting out into the corridor.

"Will it help if I sleep with you tonight? I'll sing you a lullaby if you want. I know we're still strangers to each other, but –"

"Erinna told me that she hanged herself because of someone," she said, cutting off my offer. "The dream always ends there. I want to know who the culprit is."

"So, you want me to find the culprit, right? I can try helping, but I can't guarantee anything. Maybe we should start searching her room?"

"Nobody's allowed in Erinna's room, but I found a journal before father started forbidding people from going in. I can't read what's written in it, though."

Riaveric knelt down, pulled out a journal from under her bed, and handed it to me. It was a black notebook with strange symbols etched onto the cover. The writing inside was in the ancient language of Arkhelia – a human kingdom located on the northern side of Herzoyona Eskal.

I couldn't speak or understand ancient Akhelian, but I knew a few words from it. It's a dead language – no one writes in it anymore. That just adds to the mystery surrounding Erinna's journal.

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Why would she be interested in studying this? If she was struggling, it would make more sense if she'd written in the Empire's language.

I flipped through the pages, hoping to find something I could understand. As my fingers grazed the script, a vision flashed through my mind, leaving a throbbing ache in my head.

"Thyra? Thyra!" Riaveric's voice pierced through the haze. My vision blurred, and a soft chuckle echoed in my ears.

"Oh dear. Finally, someone dares to unveil my secrets." The voice, unfamiliar yet chilling, sent shivers down my spine. "I'm the owner of this journal – the person who committed suicide out of someone's greed."

"Thyra, say something!" Riaveric cried, shaking my shoulders, her tears streaming down her cheeks. "Are you okay?"

"Um, I ..." I closed my eyes, trying to process what had just happened. "For some reason, I felt a bit of pain in my head the moment I held this. Would it be alright if I borrowed this for a while? I understand a few words, but ..."

"So, you felt it too?" she asked, her voice a mixture of relief and apprehension. "When I first opened Erinna's journal, my head ached too, as if something was trapped within its pages. I don't know what to think about it, but it does make me feel less crazy. There's definitely something wrong with this journal. I can't explain it, but it feels ... alive."

Alive? A deceased person's journal that feels alive. It sounded ridiculous, but I couldn't shake the feeling from earlier. Was I being affected by the madness of this family?

"Perhaps we should get some rest. I'll borrow this journal for a while and I'll let you know if I find anything." Riaveric nodded, and I wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I believe things will be alright soon. I'll try to do what I can, okay?"

Come to think of it ... Hervouet is inviting me to the imperial palace tomorrow afternoon to meet the former empress. It's the moment I've been waiting for, because that's where I can finally gather clues on how to awaken Azriel from the Rhinecrest. Maybe I should look for a translator ... but where?

──•~❉᯽❉~•──

I changed into my nightgown and settled into bed, but my mind kept replaying the events of the evening. How could a journal have that kind of effect? Was I simply letting myself be convinced that something was wrong with it?

I reached for the journal and traced my fingers across the script.

“Zevehnol fwen Erinna, le gyresza nesdeyren rheqizel ves tiriel Aldrich.” I read aloud, and the script on the page glowed.

A smoky figure emerged from the journal, floating in the air before me. It reached out and gently touched my cheek. As the figure solidified, I recognized it as Erinna – she looked just like the lady in the family portrait I'd seen earlier.

"You did hear my voice earlier, didn't you?" The memory of the ghostly figure still sent a shiver down my spine, making it difficult to relax. I held my breath, unsure of what to say. Was I ... seeing things?

"There's a spell cast in this journal, and saying it aloud is a way to summon me. Your thoughts aren't wrong. I'm the viscount's daughter, Erinna."

None of this felt logical to me. I didn't believe in ghosts, and all I wanted was for this to be over.

"If you're Erinna, why did you write in that ancient language? It's like you were deliberately trying to keep people from understanding your journal."

"Because I was afraid," she replied, her calm smile fading. "The spell only works once, so please tell my family everything I'll tell you."

Cold sweat prickled my skin, and I released a shaky breath, trying to quell the rising panic. I kept my mouth shut, waiting for her to continue.

"Aldrich, my fiancé, sexually abused me. I thought he was a good man, but he's a monster. He forced me to do things I didn't want to. I also found out he wanted our family's wealth, and he threatened me to keep quiet. I was so disgusted with myself, and I couldn't handle his threats anymore. I had panic attacks in secret, I couldn't breathe. I wanted to tell someone, but I was afraid nobody would believe me because my father likes Aldrich as a son-in-law. He's nothing but a snake."

There was no fear in Erinna's voice, only determination and confidence. Her request wasn't difficult to fulfill, although it would be much easier if I were to kill Aldrich myself. But a quick death would be too kind for him.

"When I first met Aldrich, his eyes sent a clear message: if I ever did anything he didn't like, he wouldn't hesitate to get rid of me. To put it simply, your journal will help me too. I'll do as you wish. I'll be an imperial princess soon, and once this reaches the court, it won't be hard to ask for a public execution. This journal gives me a lead. I'll find a translator and someone who can investigate Aldrich."

"I thought you wouldn't care since we're strangers, but I'm glad to know justice will be served. My father is already going mad. He needs to know the truth before he fully accepts Aldrich. I have a friend who lives on Rouriella Street in Greizenne. His name is Denver Adams. Just give this to him, and he'll know what to do. I have a message for him on some of these pages."

As soon as Erinna finished speaking, her figure dissolved into the air, leaving me alone with the journal and a swirling storm of thoughts. The information she'd given me would keep me up all night, but she'd given me a lead, and now, I had to know more.

It wasn't just about sympathy – Erinna's lead gave me a reason to get rid of Aldrich, a threat to both the living and the dead.

I opened the wardrobe, pulled on a hooded robe, and teleported myself to Erinna's room.

As I stepped into the forbidden space, a wave of putrid odor hit me, the scent of rotting flesh. It reminded me of the battlefield, but this was stronger, intensified by the confinement of the room.

The room was too dark to see Erinna's body clearly. It was covered by a blanket, all but her head. The viscount sat next to her on the bed, cradling her dead daughter's decomposing cheek.

"Erinna, father's here. Can you hear me? Why won't you answer me? I've been calling your name for a while now. I only wanted to hear your voice, see your smile, feel your warm touch, and dance with you like we used to, when I first taught you," he said, as if she could still hear him. His chest heaved with each sob, his breath catching in ragged gasps.

"But your cold legs won't move anymore, will they?"

A wave of mixed emotions washed over me. The viscount's madness was undeniable, and I wanted to console him – for I knew what it felt like to lose someone and mourn alone.

But despite his extreme grief, his choice to exhume Erinna's body and speak to her as if she were alive, only showed that he was no different from other broken souls. This was just his way of mourning, however extreme it may have seemed.

"Lady Thyra," the voice calling my attention made my stomach twist, and I found myself rooted to the spot as the viscount approached, like a lion stalking its prey. "You're my daughter now, who will take Erinna's place. You're not going to leave me like she did, won't you?"