The morning sun in the Northern territory of the Aethelgard Empire never truly felt warm. Its light was pale, like a bruise upon the snow that blanketed the jagged roofs of Argentos Castle.
Sera sat on her Gothic-style balcony, wrapped in a thick fur cloak that made her small frame seem even more swallowed by the fabric. On the small table before her, a tray containing herbal tea and wheat bread remained almost untouched. Her eyes were not fixed on the distant ice mountains, but on her own hand holding a quill.
She was writing. Not a love letter or a teenage girl's diary, but a structural map of the castle's domestic staff—information she had successfully extracted from Madam Rose the previous night.
Knock, knock.
"Enter," Sera's voice was calm, far more stable than it had been two days ago.
Madam Rose stepped in, her anxious face hidden behind the professional sternness of a head maid. She carried a tray with a small stack of documents.
"My Lady, these are the kitchen financial records and the list of logistics suppliers for this month," Rose whispered, placing the documents beside the tea tray. "As you requested. But, My Lady... if the Duke finds out you are examining such tedious matters, he will think I am overburdening you."
Sera set down her quill. She looked at Madam Rose with an intensity that made the old woman shiver slightly. "Father doesn't need to know, Rose. And this isn't tedious. Logistics are the heart of a castle. If you want to know who is planting thorns in your home, check who holds the keys."
Sera began flipping through the papers with a speed unnatural for someone "newly recovered." Her clear blue eyes moved nimbly, scanning figure after figure.
"Rose," Sera called without looking up.
"Yes, My Lady?"
"Why are we purchasing heating crystals from Marquis Fenris's trading company? Doesn't Argentos have its own mines at the Northern border?"
Madam Rose paused, appearing hesitant. "That... the Duke said our mines have been experiencing technical issues since last year. The miners are terrified because of unnatural collapses. So, for the time being, we must buy from outside sources to keep the castle inhabitants from freezing."
Sera gave a thin snort. "Unnatural collapses? In a territory controlled by the Argentos for three hundred years? That's not a technical issue, Rose. That's sabotage."
She underlined Marquis Fenris's name with a sharp stroke. Fenris was their family's primary business rival. By making the Argentos economically dependent on his mana crystals, Fenris was slowly draining the family's coffers while mapping their distribution routes.
Cunning, Sera thought. But still amateur.
Suddenly, a sharp pain struck the base of her skull. Sera dropped her quill, her hands gripping the edge of the table.
"My Lady! Are you alright?" Madam Rose panicked, reaching out to call for a doctor.
"Quiet," Sera commanded through strained breaths. "Stay right there."
Flashes of memory—not hers, but the original Seraphina's—began to spin like a broken film reel.
A beautiful woman with the same silver hair was hugging a young Seraphina. Her mother. The Duchess.
"Sera, listen to me," the woman's voice was faint but heavy with urgency. "Our blood is not just liquid. It is an oath. If you ever feel the darkness calling from within, do not fear it. It is our most honest heritage."
Then the scene shifted.
Seraphina was ten years old, hiding under her father's desk. She saw her father, Duke Frederick, arguing with a man in church robes. Archbishop Malachi.
"You cannot withhold that artifact forever, Frederick," the Archbishop said with a sickeningly false smile. "The Church needs that Mana Heart to maintain the stability of the empire."
"It belongs to the House of Argentos! It is the seal that holds back the Abyss gates in the North!" Frederick snapped.
The memory cut off. Sera opened her eyes, her breathing slowly returning to normal. Cold sweat drenched her forehead.
"So that's why," Sera murmured.
Now she understood. The tragedy awaiting her family wasn't just about Emperor Valdemar's political jealousy. There was something larger. There was an artifact the Church desired, and the Argentos were the obstacle.
"My Lady? You look... different," Madam Rose's voice jolted her back.
"Different how?"
"Your eyes. For a moment, you didn't look like the Lady Seraphina I've known for fifteen years," Rose whispered softly. "You looked like someone planning a war."
Sera leaned back into the hard wooden chair. She stared at her palm. The memory of the "Mana Heart" and the Church's betrayal was invaluable information. In her old life as Rei, information was a commodity more expensive than gold or diamonds.
"Rose, prepare my traveling clothes," Sera said suddenly.
"Traveling? My Lady, you haven't even been cleared to leave your room!"
"I need fresh air. And I wish to visit Father's study officially tonight. Tell him I want to learn about family history to 'calm my mind'," Sera smiled thinly. A smile that was starting to look more natural on her beautiful face, though its meaning was far from sweet.
That night, Argentos Castle felt quieter than usual. Duke Frederick was at the military barracks, while Sera's brothers, Cassian and Julian, were on duty at the border. Sera used this opportunity to infiltrate her father's study.
The room smelled of old paper, tobacco, and gun oil. Sera stepped quietly, the hem of her nightgown sweeping the marble floor. She didn't need a lamp; the Ghost Aura within her provided a sharp form of night vision.
She walked toward the large bookshelf behind the main desk. Little Seraphina's memory of hiding under the desk provided the clue. There was a secret mechanism there.
Sera felt along the bottom of the desk drawer. Click.
A small panel opened, revealing a black wooden box with the Argentos wolf crest engraved on top. Sera opened it. Inside was not gold, but an old journal belonging to her late mother and an ancient map of the Valley of Skulls.
Just as Sera was about to open the journal, the door to the room swung open with a sharp jolt.
Sera quickly closed the box and hid it beneath her cloak. She turned, her heart racing, ready to strike whoever entered.
However, the person standing in the doorway was neither a servant nor her father.
It was Alaric von Xerxes.
The "War-Mad" Prince was still dressed in his black attire, his cloak slightly damp from the night snow. He stood there, arms crossed, looking at Sera with a highly skeptical gaze.
"Stealing in your own home, Lady Seraphina?" Alaric asked, his voice echoing in the silent room.
Sera showed no panic. She stood tall, her face returning to a mask of cold composure. "Merely looking for something to read as I cannot sleep, Grand Duke. I find my father's private library far more interesting than the collection of romance novels in my room."
Alaric stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "I doubt that. I've been watching you since the incident in the garden last night. A girl who nearly drowned in an icy lake wouldn't have the strength to climb trees, kill a professional assassin, and then infiltrate her father's secret study within forty-eight hours."
Alaric stopped directly in front of Sera. He was much taller, forcing her to look up. The atmosphere between them was incredibly tense, like a steel cable pulled to its breaking point.
"Who are you, really?" Alaric whispered, staring deep into Sera's blue eyes. "What kind of soul inhabits this frail body?"
Sera felt her Ghost Aura churn. She was tempted to use her power and silence this man right now. But she knew that against Alaric, physical confrontation was suicide.
Sera smiled—a truly dangerous smile this time. She took one step closer to Alaric, until their breaths mingled.
"If I told you, Grand Duke," Sera whispered in a tone that could make anyone's blood run cold, "you might have to choose between killing me now, or becoming a slave to the plans I am building."
Alaric was stunned for a moment. He had never seen such audacity from a noble, let alone a girl known as "cracked porcelain."
Instead of anger, Alaric let out a low laugh. "A slave? You have a very sharp tongue for someone who looks like they could break if I simply squeezed their neck."
Suddenly, Alaric grabbed Sera's hand. He pulled her wrist up and saw the faint black stains beginning to appear on her pale skin—the mark of using the Ghost Aura.
"You are using a power that consumes your own lifespan," Alaric said, his voice now serious. "That means you are either very desperate, or very mad."
"In this world that is about to crumble, Alaric, only the mad survive," Sera replied, pulling her hand back.
Alaric stared at her for a long time, as if weighing something. "The Emperor will move in the spring. The Valley of Skulls will become a mass grave if you do nothing. Your father is too loyal; he won't see the betrayal until the Emperor's sword is at his throat."
Sera narrowed her eyes. "Why are you telling me this? Aren't you the empire's war dog?"
"I am a dog to whoever provides me with an interesting challenge," Alaric replied, turning toward the door. "And right now, you are the most interesting thing in all of Aethelgard."
Before leaving, Alaric paused. "Keep your mother's journal safe. There's a reason she died exactly after she wrote the final page."
After Alaric left, Sera stood frozen in the center of the room.
He knows, she thought. Alaric didn't know her identity as Rei, but he knew the current Seraphina was something different. And more importantly, Alaric had just given her a warning about the spring.
Sera reopened the wooden box and took her mother's journal. She knew that from this point on, time was not her friend. She had to train her body immediately, build her own army, and ensure that when the spring snow melted, the blood flowing in the Valley of Skulls would not be her family's.
"The predictions of a former assassin are rarely wrong," Sera whispered to the darkness of the room. "And I smell a very foul betrayal."