The royal castle stood high and mighty, a colossal structure carved from age-old grey stone, looming like a silent giant over the land. Its massive walls rose sharply into the sky, thick and unyielding, bearing the marks of centuries past—wars survived, blood spilled, secrets buried deep within its foundations. Tall towers pierced the heavens, their pointed peaks catching the sunlight and reflecting it in muted brilliance. From the highest tower, creatures of the sky soared freely, wings slicing through the air as their distant songs echoed faintly across the open expanse.
Below, the castle grounds stretched wide in breathtaking splendor. Gardens bloomed in an explosion of color—roses of deep crimson and pale blush, lilies standing proud with delicate elegance, and wildflowers scattered freely as though nature itself had rebelled against order. The breeze carried their scent gently, making petals sway in quiet harmony. Stone mazes and carefully designed structures occupied parts of the land, their paths twisting and turning in patterns meant to confuse outsiders. One-of-a-kind fountains stood proudly among them, water cascading endlessly, shimmering under the sun like liquid crystal.
The gates of the castle stood wide open, grand and imposing, yet strangely welcoming. There was an air of peace that clung to the entrance, deceptive in its calm. Heavily armored men stood guard on either side, their expressions hard and unreadable beneath polished helmets. Their eyes missed nothing as they monitored every movement, every face, every breath that crossed into the citadel.
Carriages rolled in steadily—some grand and gilded, others plain and worn. Each was stopped by the guards, questioned thoroughly before being allowed passage.
"State your business here, coach."
The sharp command cut through the morning air, and Dydra's ears caught it immediately. Her gaze shifted toward the small window of the carriage she sat in, heart fluttering with unease.
"Maids," the coachman replied casually, his tone practiced, almost bored—like a thief who had mastered the art of lying without blinking.
The guard studied him for a brief moment before giving a single nod. Another guard returned it silently, and with that, the carriage was waved through.
As the wheels creaked forward and crossed into the castle grounds, Dydra's attention shifted inward, her sharp blue eyes scanning the occupants of the carriage for the first time with real scrutiny. Only after hearing the word maids did she truly notice the difference.
None of them wore fine fabrics or decorative pins in their hair. Their dresses were simple, dull in color, frayed at the hems. Their shoes looked worn, patched together with careful desperation. Their hair was pulled back into messy buns or loose braids, practicality over beauty. Their skin lacked the nourished glow she had seen on noblewomen—it told stories of long hours, exhaustion, and quiet suffering.
She swallowed.
The previous day felt like a lifetime ago.
After she and Oryen had returned to the cottage, neither of them spoke a word. Exhaustion had weighed heavily on them both, the kind that settled into the bones rather than the muscles. Oryen disappeared into her room without explanation, and Dydra had done the same, too drained to even question it.
At dawn, Oryen had broken the silence.
She informed Dydra—plainly, without ceremony—that she was off to work as a maid in the royal castle.
Dydra had been stunned.
She had already decided to remain at the cottage for a few more days. After everything that had happened, leaving immediately felt impossible. But staying without contributing felt equally wrong. Guilt had pressed heavily on her chest, and before she could stop herself, she offered to work as well.
To her surprise, Oryen had agreed almost instantly.
She knew someone, she said—someone who could arrange it.
Getting a position in the castle, even as a maid, was no simple task.
The carriage rolled deeper into the grounds, and a light gasp escaped Dydra's lips as she took in the view ahead. Vast stretches of green unfolded before her eyes, tall trees rising among roses, dandelions, and sunflowers that turned their faces toward the sun. Glorious didn't come close to describing it.
The carriage slowed as it followed a narrow dirt road leading toward a small wooden building tucked away at the edge of the grounds. Dydra noticed a line of people standing outside it, entering one by one through a single door. What unsettled her most was that she never saw anyone come back out.
Her brows knit together.
She turned to Oryen, who sat opposite her, gaze already fixed on her face.
"Why are those people entering that building?" Dydra whispered, careful to keep her voice low.
Oryen stiffened.
She did not answer.
This was not a place to speak freely. Some creatures possessed hearing far beyond human limits, and careless words could unravel everything. If the others suspected Dydra wasn't a real maid, questions would arise. Trouble would follow.
Truth be told, most maids did not choose this life.
Flashes of memory surged unbidden in Oryen's mind, dragging her back years into the past.
Rough hands. Too strong. Too sudden.
She remembered being grabbed, torn away from her sister—an Okitu. She screamed, kicked, clawed at the air, but the guard was stronger. A sharp blow followed, and darkness swallowed her whole.
When consciousness returned, she found herself in a pitch-black room. Chains bound her limbs tightly, biting into her skin. The only light came from a single candle flame flickering weakly nearby.
Her frightened blue eyes wandered—and stopped.
A pair of red eyes stared back at her.
Terror surged. She tried to scream, only to realize a cloth was tied tightly around her mouth. She struggled uselessly until a hand seized her chin, forcing her gaze upward.
"Don't be scared," a calm voice said.
And just like that, the fear vanished.
Peace washed over her unnaturally, silencing every scream her mind tried to produce.
"You will be a maid in the castle," the voice continued smoothly. "Whatever happens there stays there. You will remember your abduction, but you will live with it in peace. If anyone asks about your work, you will say it is good. That the royal family treats you well. That you are grateful."
Darkness followed.
When she awoke, she was in the cottage.
A paper lay on the floor.
"This is a gift from the royal family…"
And so it began.
Every morning for years, she had risen without question, traveled to the castle, worked tirelessly—and felt peace doing it.
The carriage finally stopped.
Dydra swallowed hard.
She had no idea what kind of world she was stepping into.