Chapter 24: Unveiling the Past
In her private chamber, Evelyn sat before the vanity, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was as beautiful as ever, but her eyes blazed with suppressed fury. Her fingers clutched the handle of a silver brush so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
Seraphina.
That name had echoed far too often in her ears lately. In the palace halls, in the dining room, even on Prince Adrian's lips. Everyone was talking about that girl, as if she were someone important. But to Evelyn, Seraphina was nothing more than an insolent servant who had stolen the attention that should have been hers.
Evelyn exhaled deeply, trying to calm herself. She couldn't act recklessly; the trap she had set had failed miserably, and Adrian only grew more protective of Seraphina. But this wasn't over—if she couldn't destroy Seraphina with lies, then she would crush her with the truth.
Because everyone had something they wished to hide.
Evelyn rose from her seat and walked toward a corner of the room where an old wooden cabinet stood. Carefully, she pulled out a notebook hidden within—one that contained information about everyone in the palace. As the daughter of one of the royal advisors, Evelyn had access to documents that were never meant to be seen by common eyes.
She flipped through the pages carefully until her gaze found the name she was looking for.
Seraphina Aurelius Thompson.
Her eyes narrowed as she read the notes kept within. The girl's background was far from that of an ordinary servant. She came from another world—a singer from a city called London, England. A girl hated by her own father, branded as a harbinger of misfortune from birth, and once engaged to a man who eventually broke off the engagement due to her mother's tainted past.
Evelyn smiled thinly. This was more than enough.
"You don't belong here, Seraphina," she whispered as she closed the book with a swift motion. "And I'll make sure everyone knows it."
The next day, Evelyn walked gracefully to the palace gardens, where several young nobles were gathered. Eliza and Clarissa, her two closest companions, immediately approached her, their faces alight with curiosity.
"You seem very pleased today," Eliza said with a smile.
Evelyn merely shrugged elegantly. "I was just thinking—it's time we learned more about our special guest... Seraphina."
Clarissa looked at her with keen interest. "What do you mean?"
Evelyn glanced up toward the palace's upper floor windows, where Seraphina's silhouette could be seen walking through a corridor.
"I heard she isn't even from this world," Evelyn began, her voice deliberately soft but loud enough to pique their curiosity. "She came from who-knows-where, and suddenly lives in the palace, effortlessly capturing Adrian's attention. Don't you find that odd?"
Eliza and Clarissa exchanged looks.
"You know what's even more interesting?" Evelyn continued, her voice dripping with venom. "Her mother, apparently, was a woman who brought ruin to many. Some even say it was her mother's fault that Princess Anya—the one Prince Adrian loved so dearly—died."
Clarissa gasped, covering her mouth. "What? That can't be true."
Evelyn smiled smugly. She knew they would spread the rumor faster than fire consuming paper.
"If I were Adrian," Evelyn added with feigned sympathy, "I would be very careful. Who knows what traits her mother passed down to her?"
She let the words linger in the air before turning and walking away, leaving the two girls deep in whispered conversation.
Meanwhile, inside the palace library, Seraphina tried to focus on her reading, but a persistent feeling of unease gnawed at her. Something was in the air, something beyond her imagination.
The servants seemed more awkward around her. Even as she crossed the halls, some of the young nobles who were chatting fell silent upon seeing her, whispering afterward with unreadable expressions.
Seraphina grew more and more confused by their stares. It wasn't just paranoia.
She had just closed her book when the sound of approaching footsteps caught her attention.
"There's something I need to tell you," Luke's voice was serious.
Seraphina looked at him worriedly. "What's going on?"
Luke sat across from her, his face clouded with hesitation. "Evelyn is spreading rumors about you. About your mother. About how she might have been responsible for Princess Anya's death."
Seraphina's heart dropped.
"Has His Highness heard about this yet?" she asked softly.
Luke sighed. "Not yet. But at the rate the gossip is spreading, it's only a matter of time."
Seraphina felt a cold rush through her veins. Evelyn was no longer attacking her directly—she was manipulating everyone around her. Worse still, if Adrian heard all of this, would he still defend her like before?
Night crept slowly over the Valeria palace. The sky was velvet black, with no moon to light the darkness—only faint, scattered stars blinking overhead. Beneath the shadowed towers of the palace, a lone figure moved carefully, blending with the night.
Lucian wore a black cloak, shielding himself from the guards' vigilant eyes.
He had waited a long time for this moment.
With nearly soundless steps, Lucian traversed the empty corridors, avoiding patrolling guards. Tension coiled in his chest—not from fear, but from the thrill of imminent discovery.
He stopped in front of an old wooden door at the end of a subterranean hallway. Ancient carvings, nearly erased by time, were still faintly visible across its surface. His fingers brushed the cold wood, feeling a subtle hum of energy vibrating from beyond.
"The Tales of Eldara weren't wrong," he thought to himself. Ancient stories spoke of a magical sword hidden in a place untouched by light, awaiting its true bearer.
With a gentle push, the door creaked open. A stone staircase spiraled down into darkness. The musty scent of dust and dampness immediately filled the air.
Lucian lit a small torch, its dim orange glow dancing across the narrow walls as he descended.
The staircase seemed endless. The deeper he went, the quieter the world became—only the echo of his own footsteps remained.
At last, he reached the bottom and found a circular room with a domed ceiling supported by thick stone pillars. In the center stood an ancient altar, covered in dust and moss.
Lucian approached, tracing the carvings along the altar's surface—old symbols he recognized from ancient spellbooks: the sun and moon intertwined. He touched it, feeling a strange vibration beneath his fingertips.
"Just as I suspected," he whispered triumphantly.
He shifted a small stone on the altar's side, and the faint grinding of old mechanisms sounded behind the walls. But before he could investigate further, the sound of footsteps echoed from the staircase above.