Light found its way into Seraphina's chamber, she sat on the edge of her bed as sunlight spilled across the floor, warming the stone beneath her feet. The light should have comforted her but it did not.
They are back, she thought.
And now they offer understanding.
Her fingers tightened in the sheets.
They are the reason Mother is dead.
And now they are coming for me.
Though the dark figures appeared in her dream again, something else lingered—an unease she could not name. As though another presence had passed through her sleep unnoticed. Watching and listening.
It was a mystery she did not yet understand.
A gentle knock broke the silence.
"You may come in" she said then stood up.
Some maids stepped into the chamber as they moved about the room, quietly. One drew back the curtains while another warmed water near the hearth.
"You're awake early, my princess," the older maid Cecilia said gently, setting the basin down. "The bath will be ready soon"
Steam curled through the chamber as the bath was prepared, the scent of herbs rising with the warmth. Seraphina slipped out of her gown with the maids' help.
She lowered herself into the water slowly, the heat sinking into her skin, easing tension she hadn't realized she was holding.
One maid rinsed her hair, while another murmured something light—about the weather, about the roses blooming near the east wing.
Seraphina barely listened.
Her thoughts drifted instead to shadows and whispers, to a dream that refused to loosen its grip.
Even here, wrapped in warmth, she did not feel entirely alone. After the bath, the maids helped her out of the water and back into her chamber.
"Shall we dress you lightly today?" Cecilia asked
Seraphina nodded, her gaze unfocused.
They worked with devotion and dedication—hands smoothing fabric, fingers careful as they brushed her red hair, applied lavender oil and massaged it thoroughly with all the gentleness in the world. A younger maid braided it slowly, pausing now and then as though afraid of pulling too tightly.
"This gown will suit the morning," she murmured. "It brings out the light in your eyes."
Seraphina said nothing, but she allowed them to finish, standing still as the final pin was set in place.
When they were done, the maids stepped back, quietly admiring Seraphina's beauty. Once satisfied with their work, they began to leave the chamber, their footsteps soft against the floor, until only the older maid remained.
"Breakfast is ready whenever you wish," she said, offering a small, reassuring smile as she waited for the princess's response.
Seraphina hesitated, then rose. "I'll be there shortly."
And with that she left her room moving gracefully to dine with the king,
The order still stood motionless in place after they had left her dream but the silence that reigned in the sanctum was finally broken and replaced with the order's whispers
"She did not confide in us," one voice said.
"Patience," the leader replied calmly. "Patience is not absence—it is preparation."
"Will we return to her tonight?" another asked.
"No." The leader's tone remained measured. "We give her space. Her silence will turn inward, and when it does, it will circle us. When doubt grows loud enough, we will be the only ones left for her to hear."
"She is young," another voice added. "Children do not resist forever."
"Do not underestimate her," said another. "She has potential—if guided correctly."
The leader paused.
"That much is true."
A faint shift passed through the Sanctum, like a ripple through still water.
"The amulet calls to him again," the leader continued. "If my suspicions are correct, what we once believed impossible is nearing fruition."
A tense silence followed.
"Then why do we wait?" one asked sharply. "If we do nothing, they will reconnect."
"We must wait," the leader said, unshaken, "because haste shatters what patience shapes. With time—and more preparation—we will ensure all things fall into their proper order."
The whispers faded and they sat down completely free from any form of sounds, and just like that the preparation was set in motion.
Meanwhile Across Altheris, King Alaric's command took shape.
Guards rode out beneath the royal banner, armor catching the light as they passed through gates and along winding roads.
From the stone-paved streets of the capital to villages tucked between hills and forests, the message was delivered—spoken in town squares, at market crossings, beside wells worn smooth by time.
Dreams that felt too real.
A pull that could not be named.
Visions tied to an ancient relic.
Those who had felt it were to come forward.
The journey took a week.
By the time the guards reached Rynvale, the village stirred with restless whispers.
Lorin was at his forge when the announcement came.
He caught only fragments—dreams… relic… the palace—but the words refused to settle. His thoughts felt muffled, wrapped in a heavy fog, dulled by a sensation far stronger than reason.
He did not understand what he was doing—not fully.
Only that something inside him urged him forward, pressing against his chest with quiet insistence, guiding him long before his mind could catch up.
And he found himself walking towards a guard.