Evening’s faint glow spilled through the narrow window of Cassie’s quarters. She stood by the sill, her gaze unfocused as the sounds of the palace softened with the approach of night. The muffled chatter of servants faded into the background, leaving only the quiet scrape of her boots against the stone floor as she paced.

Her thoughts were restless. They drifted back to the battlefield—Haides’s unyielding gaze, the eerie intelligence of the wolf machina, and her comrade’s words of betrayal that cut deeper than any wound.

Cassie’s fists clenched, her nails biting into her palms as the memories resurfaced. Her squad had been more than soldiers; they’d been her family. She should have died with them, but instead, she’d woken in a world so alien it felt like a mockery of everything she’d fought for.

She inhaled sharply, trying to steady herself. The palace was pristine, every surface polished to perfection, every corner exuding wealth and power. It was nothing like Earth—the chaos, the smog, the sound of boots marching into yet another doomed battle.

She pressed her fingers to the faint ridges on her wrist, her cybernetic implants hidden beneath her skin. They were a reminder of what she was: not quite human, built to endure and survive. But here, in this strange, untouched world, they felt out of place—an anachronism.

‘What happened to Earth after I left?’ The question gnawed at her. Without her squad—without her—could humanity survive the precursors’ relentless onslaught?

Cassie’s thoughts drifted to the strange energy that seemed to saturate this world. Magic. She’d heard whispers of it among the palace staff, the way they spoke of it with reverence and fear. Could it be a way back?

The idea rooted itself in her mind, a flicker of hope that refused to be extinguished. If this world held answers, she had to find them.

Cassie pulled on her plain work tunic, the fabric rough against her skin, and stepped toward the door. The library. If knowledge of magic existed anywhere, it would be there.

The palace corridors stayed quiet at this hour, with fading sunlight casting long shadows along the stone walls. Cassie moved quickly, her steps deliberate as she wound her way through the maze-like halls.

She passed a group of maids who barely glanced at her, their own duties keeping them preoccupied. Cassie kept her head down, her hands gripping the dusting cloth she carried as a pretense for her visit. The excuse was flimsy, but it would suffice.

The library’s grand double doors loomed ahead, carved with intricate patterns of vines and mythical beasts. Cassie hesitated for the briefest moment before pushing one of them open, its weight resisting her effort.

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Inside, the air was cool and heavy with the scent of parchment and aged leather. The high-arched ceilings and towering shelves created an almost oppressive sense of scale, as though the knowledge contained here demanded reverence.

Cassie let the door close softly behind her, her gaze sweeping over the rows of books and the dim light filtering through high windows. The space was empty, save for a single figure seated at a desk near the far wall—a woman with sharp features and silver hair pulled into a severe bun.

The librarian.

Cassie moved quietly, weaving through the shelves with her dusting cloth in hand. She paused occasionally, her eyes skimming the spines of books that lined the shelves. Most bore titles in gilded script—histories of the realm, genealogies of noble houses, treatises on economics and warfare. Nothing remotely magical.

Her frustration grew with each passing minute, her steps slowing as she reached the edge of the central desk. The librarian was engrossed in her work, her quill scratching steadily across a sheet of parchment.

Cassie hesitated. She knew the risk of asking directly—it could draw suspicion. But the alternative was wasting time combing through shelves that wouldn’t yield what she needed.

She cleared her throat softly. “Excuse me.”

The librarian looked up, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly as they fixed on Cassie. “Yes?”

“I was wondering,” Cassie began carefully, “if there are any books here about magic.”

The librarian’s expression hardened. She leaned back in her chair, her quill poised in midair as though the question itself was offensive.

“Magic?” she repeated, her voice edged with suspicion.

Cassie nodded, keeping her tone measured. “I’ve heard stories about it but never seen it myself. I thought the library might have some records or... information.”

The librarian’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Magic is not a subject for the public,” she said curtly. “Knowledge of it is restricted to those with the proper authority.”

Cassie kept her expression neutral, though her pulse quickened. “Restricted? By whom?”

The librarian’s eyes narrowed further. “By the Royal Family and the Imperial Academy. Only their members are permitted access to such knowledge.” She paused, her gaze scrutinizing Cassie. “And you, I imagine, are neither.”

Cassie ignored the jab. “Is there any way to gain permission?”

The librarian let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Perhaps if you were someone of significance.” She leaned forward slightly, her tone turning icy. “But as you are, such access is... impossible.”

The word landed heavily between them, but Cassie didn’t flinch. She gave a small nod, her voice steady as she replied, “Thank you for your time.”

She turned away before the librarian could say more, her steps quickening as she wove back through the shelves.

The corridor outside felt colder as Cassie stepped into it, the librarian’s words echoing in her mind. Restricted. Impossible.

She leaned against the wall, her hands tightening into fists. The idea of appealing to the Imperial Academy—or earning the Royal Family’s trust—felt absurd. She was a servant here, nothing more.

Her thoughts churned as she retraced her steps toward the servant quarters. The palace seemed larger now, its halls more imposing.

Cassie’s gaze fell to the faint ridges on her wrist as she walked, her fingers brushing over the implants. They were a part of her, a link to Earth. The thought of being cut off from everything she’d fought for—her squad, her home—was unbearable.

But for now, she had no choice but to wait and watch. Answers wouldn’t come easily, but she would find them.

She slipped into her quarters, the door clicking softly shut behind her. The stone walls seemed to close in around her, the weight of her isolation pressing heavier than ever.