Putting on a corset ranked high on my list of least favorite activities, so when I got the chance to wear men's clothes instead, it was like a breath of fresh air. The schedule Madame Celeste handed me in the morning had nearly given me a migraine: banquets, meetings, and a formal event in the evening. I groaned at the thought and promptly screamed into my pillow for a solid fifteen minutes. My voice was now hoarse and raspy thanks to my little tantrum, but it didn’t help my mood.

Now, standing in front of the mirror, I couldn’t help but smirk. I wore a tailored outfit meant for men, but it hugged my frame with a flattering ease. Dark trousers, perfectly fitted, and a crisp white shirt with intricate gold embroidery along the cuffs and collar. Over it, a sleek, high-collared black vest cinched my waist, giving me that sharp look I craved. The jacket was a deep midnight blue, lightweight and designed to allow ease of movement—functional yet stylish. There were no heavy layers or frilly lace like the women had to endure. Just clean lines, a strong silhouette, and freedom. This I could get used to.

As I fastened the buttons, I peeked out the window and noticed the men milling about the palace courtyard, dressed in their evening best. Light, flowy tunics and airy shirts draped across their broad shoulders, barely fitting to any of the formality you'd expect at an event like this. And while the women were likely being stuffed into gowns heavy with embroidery and jewels, the men had it easy, flowing, breathable fabrics, completely oblivious to the pain of corset-induced suffocation.

I rolled my eyes. They were practically wearing pajamas.

I slipped on a pair of soft leather boots and glanced once more at my reflection. I looked sharp, clean, composed, like someone who belonged here, even if I felt anything but.

I stepped back from the mirror, assessing my reflection with a critical eye. I might’ve looked the part, but that didn’t mean I felt ready. These clothes might be sharp, but they weren’t just for show. Tonight wasn’t just about blending in—it was about surviving.

That thought prompted me to reach for the dragon bone daggers Ellowen had gifted me. Sleek, deadly, and silent. I ran my fingers along the curved edges, marveling at the craftsmanship before slipping the first dragon bone dagger into my boot, feeling the cool weight of it settle against my ankle. If I wasn’t already in a foul mood, the fact that I had to arm myself for what was essentially a garden party probably would’ve done the trick.

The second dagger slid easily into its spot at my hip, hidden beneath my jacket. There was a third, smaller one, and after debating where to hide it, I tucked it into the inner pocket of my jacket. I was practically a walking armory, and here I was, off to socialize with people who could incinerate me with a thought.

Yeah, this’ll go great. But it was always better to be safe than dead.

Through the window, I caught sight of the men milling about the courtyard. With a deep breath, I stepped out of the room and made my way toward the gardens. The palace halls were unusually quiet, probably because everyone was already gathering for the event. Which meant I was fashionably late, excellent.

Halfway there, I spotted Amelie ahead of me, her auburn hair shining in the soft glow of the lanterns. She looked like something out of a storybook, in a light blue gown that shimmered as she moved. It was the kind of dress that made it clear she didn’t need daggers stashed in her boots.

I caught up to her, and she turned, beaming. “Elijah! I was hoping I’d run into you.”

“Yeah?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Thought you’d be dodging me like the plague after all the gossip I’ve heard.”

Amelie laughed, her eyes sparkling with genuine warmth. “Not at all. In fact, I’ve been dying to know more about you. As I said before, everyone’s whispering about you”

I forced a grin, trying to downplay my nerves. “Yeah, well, I’m sure none of it’s flattering. Or true.”

She gave me a soft nudge with her elbow. “Don’t be so sure. There’s an air of mystery about you. Everyone’s curious.”

Mystery? More like desperately hiding the fact that I’m winging it and hoping not to die in a horrible, embarrassing way. But sure, let’s call it mysterious.

“Or maybe I’m just really good at pretending I know what I’m doing,” I shot back, rolling my eyes.

Amelie chuckled, that carefree sound clashing with the heaviness of everything else going on. We fell into step together as we walked toward the garden, the scent of roses and jasmine growing stronger with each step.

“I was thinking about sneaking away from the gathering,” Amelie whispered with a conspiratorial grin. “These things are always so boring, but tonight might be different with you here..”

I snorted. “Right. Because this whole thing screams ‘fun’ to me,” I said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Exactly why I joined this... game.”

Amelie smiled, unfazed by my dry tone. “It’s not so bad, you know. You’ve just got to play along for a bit. Maybe even make some allies.”

I glanced at her, trying to keep my face neutral. Allies. Was that what we’d be, if this all worked out? Because there was always the possibility we wouldn’t be allies. That we’d be enemies. And if things got bad enough, I might have to kill her. Or worse, she might have to kill me.

The thought hit me like a punch, and I almost tripped over my own feet.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, forcing a smirk, though the idea of us someday fighting to the death lingered in my mind, heavy and uncomfortable.

We finally reached the garden entrance, lit with glowing lanterns that gave the whole place a warm, magical atmosphere. The sound of soft laughter and clinking glasses drifted through the air, and the garden was filled with finely dressed guests, mingling near the fountains and perfectly manicured hedges. It was all so... picturesque. Too perfect, really.

“Ready?” Amelie asked, looking up at me with that same sweet smile.

“Honestly? No,” I muttered, Amelie giggled at my comment and I tried my best to ignore that my stomach felt like it was doing somersaults.

We stepped inside the garden, and I immediately spotted Roran lounging at one of the tables, his back turned to us, with Cas beside him —the guy looked like he’d been sculpted by the gods.

Great. Just great.

Before either of them could respond, Amelie chimed in with a grin. “I already snagged him earlier. He’s sharp. And sassy. I love him.”

Cas chuckled, a low, quiet sound that made me glance his way again. His eyes lingered on me just a little too long, like he was trying to figure something out. “Sassy, huh?” he said, his voice steady. “I’ll have to keep an eye on you.”

I couldn’t help but smirk, raising an eyebrow. “You say that like you weren’t already watching.”

Cas’s smile deepened slightly, and for a moment, I wondered what was going on behind those sparkling blue eyes. Calm, observant— he didn’t say much, but he didn’t miss anything either.

Roran laughed, breaking the tension. “Oh, he’s watching, alright. We all are. It’s what we do.” His tone was teasing, but there was an edge to it, something that reminded me that this wasn’t just friendly banter.

Amelie, however, seemed unfazed. She smiled at me, a little brighter than before. “Well, I’m glad to have you on our side. Makes things way more interesting.”

I couldn’t argue with that. Interesting, yes. Safe? Not so much.

I took a seat next to Amelie, grabbing a goblet of wine from the table. Sipping it slowly, I tried to relax, though every fiber of me was still on edge. The rich, sweet liquid helped, but only just. The gathering was in full swing now, other heroes wandering in to find their seats and join the mingling. It was the kind of event that demanded small talk and smiles—neither of which I was particularly good at.

Amelie nudged me playfully, her voice low. “You don’t look like you’re having fun.”

I raised an eyebrow, taking another sip of wine. “This is my fun face.”

She laughed, and I couldn’t help but crack a smile. It was hard not to around her.

Soon enough, the woman from earlier, the one who had been with the man who’d decapitated the sacrifice, sauntered over. She was stunning, a blonde with flowing waves that caught the lantern light and framed her striking features perfectly. Her hazel eyes, rimmed with dark kohl, sparkled with mischief and allure. With high cheekbones and full lips that seemed made for seduction, she radiated an almost dangerous confidence.

Without hesitation, she slid into the seat between Cas and Roran, making her presence known.

Her voice was smooth as silk. “Mind if I join you boys?”

Cas didn’t react, but Roran flashed a welcoming grin. “By all means, take a seat.”

“I’m Natalia,” she said, leaning in a little too close to Cas, her fingers tracing the rim of her wine glass. She turned her gaze toward me, her eyes narrowing. “And you must be the… undetermined one.”

“Elijah,” I said simply, taking another sip of wine.

She tilted her head, a smile creeping across her lips. “Elijah from where?”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“I’m from the Ilyan Desert,” I replied, my tone even.

Her laughter rang out, bright and mocking. “The desert? You’re lying. That place is uninhabitable!”

I shrugged, unfazed. “Believe what you want. It’s home to me.”

Natalia leaned forward, her expression skeptical. “No one lives there, Elijah. It’s a wasteland.”

I smirked, a playful defiance bubbling up inside me. “And yet, here I am. Seems like I’ve defied the odds. Or maybe you just need to brush up on your geography.”

With a quick glance at Amelie, who was clearly enjoying the exchange, I added, “But speaking of homes, where are you from, Natalia? Somewhere equally... charming?”

Her smile returned, though it was edged with irritation. “Oh, a lovely port city known for its elegance and... delightful entertainment.”

“Ah, yes. Sounds familiar. Isn’t that the place with all those famous love hotels? You know, the ones crawling with... delights?” I replied, letting the words linger in the air.

Amelie nearly choked on her wine, laughter bubbling to the surface. Roran grinned widely, while Cas’s mouth twitched as if he was fighting back a laugh.

Natalia’s expression faltered for just a moment before she recovered, her voice icy. “Charming.”

I took another sip of wine, feeling satisfied. “Well, I do try.”

The tension at the table eased into an amused silence. Roran leaned back in his chair, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You really know how to make an impression, Elijah.”

Cas gave me a slow, approving nod, while Natalia simmered quietly beside them. I glanced at Amelie, who was biting her lip, clearly trying not to burst out laughing again.

I raised my glass, feeling a bit more at ease. “To making an impression,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

The group clinked their glasses together, the atmosphere shifting back to something a little more lighthearted. I lingered around for a bit more, chatting with military officers and a priestess who had just strolled by. They invited me to a church on Sunday. Honestly, I had forgotten how religious Xudia was, I couldn’t blame them; after all, they got their powers from the Gods.

As I sipped my drink, I spotted Amelie glancing over at Cas and Roran, who were both trapped in a conversation with Natalia. She rolled her eyes dramatically. “I’ve got to head over and save Cas and Roran,” a grin tugging at her lips. “They look like they need a breather from that whirlwind of charm.”

I laughed, amused by Amelie’s comment. “You’re right. Poor Cas looks like he’s about to sprout wings and fly away.”

“Exactly!” Amelie exclaimed. “I can’t let them be consumed by her.” With that, she marched over.

I watched as she approached, hoping she could pull them away from Natalia’s grasp. Meanwhile, I turned my attention to the snacks. Gods, this was the one and only reason why I had stayed for this long. Or maybe it was just to analyze Cas a bit more. Maybe it was both.

Moments later, I saw Amelie’s cheerful wave as she successfully coaxed the guys into following her away from the clutches of the stunning blonde. They were smiling, and I could see the relief on their faces. I couldn’t help but grin at the sight; it was nice to have someone looking out for you in this cutthroat place.

With my social battery gradually winding down, I decided it was time to head back to my room. I waved goodbye to Amelie and the others. As I strolled past Cas and Roran, I mouthed the words, “I’m escaping! You two should try to survive!”

Their expressions shifted to one of amused disbelief, and I couldn’t help but chuckle as I made my way back.

—--------—------------------●∘◦❀◦∘●---------------------------------

Would you believe me if I told you it was 1 in the morning, and I’m headed to the library? Honestly, it sounded insane, even to me. Yet, here I was, slipping through the halls of the Summer Palace under the cover of darkness like I had any business being out this late. The cold floor tiles pressed through the soles of my shoes, reminding me that this was real, no dream, no late-night fantasy spun from boredom.

The thought of turning back flitted across my mind. Sensible, rational Blithe would have done just that. But lately, rationality was taking a backseat to... curiosity. And let’s be real—when had I ever been one to follow the rules without asking questions? Especially when those rules told me to stay away.

The library doors loomed ahead, shimmering in the moonlight that filtered through the palace’s tall, narrow windows. Even the air seemed to shift as I approached, growing heavier with each step, like the building itself was aware of my presence, aware of what I was about to do. I could practically hear Ellowen’s voice in the back of my head: Survive, no matter what.

A good bit of advice, really. The problem was, no one ever told me that curiosity might be my downfall.

The library stood like a sentinel, dark and imposing. I slipped inside without a sound, the heavy doors closing behind me, enveloping me in a familiar cloak of silence. It was unsettling how quickly the outside world seemed to disappear once you were in here. The library had a way of swallowing everything—light, noise, time.

The door at the back of the library wasn’t exactly a secret. Everyone knew it existed—plain and unassuming, tucked away in a corner where it could almost be forgotten. It wasn’t hidden or locked away. In fact, it looked like any other door. But what made it different, what made it forbidden, was who was allowed to open it.

Royalty. And only royalty.

And tonight, for the first time, I was going to open it.

I reached the far corner, where the rows of shelves began to thin out. The door stood there, simple yet somehow unsettling in its simplicity. Brass handle gleaming faintly, as if it was daring me to turn it.

I paused for a moment, my hand hovering just inches away from the handle. There was a sense of finality in that small gesture, like once I touched it, there would be no going back.

My fingers brushed against the cool metal, and I took a steadying breath. There was no resistance as I turned the handle. It gave way easily, almost as if it had been waiting for me all this time.

The door swung open, revealing a thick, impenetrable darkness beyond. A void that seemed to swallow everything, even the faint moonlight behind me. For a moment, I stood there, staring into it, feeling that strange pull—like gravity, but deeper, more primal. My instincts screamed at me to stop, to turn around and forget this ever happened. But curiosity pushed me forward.

The air changed the moment I crossed the threshold. It was colder, heavier, almost oppressive. The door clicked shut behind me with a quiet finality. I stepped forward cautiously, eyes widening as I took in the scene before me.

This wasn’t just another forgotten room in the palace. No, it was something else entirely, something alive with magic.

Books hovered midair, suspended as if gravity had no claim on them. Their pages fluttered lazily, like they were breathing, whispering. Tall, flickering candles floated at varying heights, casting a soft blue light that bathed the room in an ethereal glow. Shadows danced on the walls, bending and stretching with the sway of the flames, almost as if they were alive.

At the far end of the room, an enormous window stretched from floor to ceiling, filtering the moonlight into delicate, silvery beams that scattered across the floor like shards of light. The moon’s glow mixed with the blue of the candle flames, casting an otherworldly atmosphere.

The smell of ancient dust hung heavy in the air, thick and musty, a reminder of how long this room had likely been left untouched. The space hummed with quiet energy, like the room itself was holding its breath.

I slowly made my way toward the center, weaving through the floating books, brushing my fingertips lightly along their worn spines. Titles in languages I couldn't understand were scrawled across the covers, some written in elegant script, others in jagged, foreign symbols. Every book looked ancient, the kind of tomes that held knowledge long forgotten by the rest of the world.

There was an air of mystery here, of hidden power, and I felt it tug at me, urging me deeper into the room. My fingers itched to pull down a book, to crack open its secrets. I scanned the shelves, the floating stacks, reading a few titles as I passed: The Arcane Histories, Tales of the Lost Kingdom, The Elemental War. Each one seemed more tantalizing than the last. I couldn’t help a genuine smile from spreading across my face. Beauty wouldn’t be enough of a word to describe this place.

As I walked deeper into the room, the magic around me seemed to intensify, the air practically buzzing with energy. Books floated past like leaves in a breeze, their spines glowing with enchantments too old for me to understand. My gaze flitted from one ancient tome to the next.

But then, something stopped me in my tracks.

Amid all the floating, glowing books—so full of life and magic—there was one that didn’t belong. It lay on the floor, discarded and untouched, as if it had been forgotten by time itself.

I blinked, my curiosity sharpening. Kneeling down, I reached for the volume cautiously, as if expecting it to vanish at the last moment. My fingers brushed its worn cover, and immediately, I knew something was wrong. The book didn’t hum with the same energy as the others. It didn’t pulse or shimmer. It seemed... dead.

I lifted it gently, feeling the weight of its ordinariness. The cover was plain, the edges frayed and curling, the binding loose and barely holding together. Unlike every other book in this room, it felt lifeless, like it had no place here at all.

The title, barely visible through the faded gold lettering, read: For the Fallen.

A chill crept down my spine.

I flipped it open, half-expecting some ancient language to reveal itself on the pages, or perhaps a spell to leap off the worn out paper. But no. The pages were blank. Every last one. Empty, yellowing parchment, untouched by ink, untouched by time. It didn’t make any sense. In a room filled with the most powerful, enchanted texts I’d ever seen, why was this one so utterly... ordinary? So abandoned?

I turned it over in my hands, searching for any hidden clue, any sign that there was more to this book than met the eye. But it remained still, unmagical, and utterly silent.

Like me.

This book was just like me—ordinary, forgotten in a world that thrived on power and magic. It was useless to them. Useless to the people who placed value only on what glittered, what held power.

Without thinking twice, I tucked the book beneath my cloak, clutching it close. It didn’t matter whether this was stealing or not. No one had cared about this book for who knew how long, it was like it had never even existed. And now, it was mine. This forgotten relic, this mystery of a thing, was my official baby.

As I straightened, the silence of the room seemed to stretch unnaturally thin, pressing against my skin. I adjusted the book beneath my cloak, feeling its weight settle, when a faint sound echoed around me. Barely there. Like a whisper, carried on a breeze that didn’t exist in this sealed-off room.

I froze, every muscle tensing as I strained to listen. But the library was dead quiet, save for the soft rustle of floating pages and the occasional flicker of the blue candle flames.

I shook my head, trying to steady my pulse. "I’ve officially lost it," I muttered under my breath, a nervous chuckle slipping out.

Before I could blink, the candles all extinguished at once. The room plunged into darkness so absolute it swallowed the very air around me. My heart leapt into my throat, my hand instinctively grabbing my dagger.

Then, in the silence, so close it chilled the blood in my veins, a deep voice rasped beside my ear:

"It appears you truly have."