🌸 Adeline's POV ⚔️

In the dead of midnight, when silence reigns and shadows stretch long across Wintermere, I managed to slip out of the Duke's manor, just to find the mysterious narrow path hidden beneath a tangle of vines, driven by my own curiosity. As Duchess of Wintermere, sneaking out of the Duke's manor at midnight was likely not the image anyone expected of me. Yet here I was, darting like a thief in the dark.

I moved quietly, carefully not to alert the knights patrolling the grounds. It's a good thing Father taught me to be light on my feet, his lessons made me feel more like a phantom than a noble lady now.

When I finally reached the location I'd been seeking, I drew back the hood of my black cloak, letting the moonlight catch on the icy blue strands of my hair, tied into a simple ponytail that brushes my back. Far enough from prying eyes, I decided it was safe to reveal myself.

Lucien's estate was far larger than I imagined, sprawling with hidden ruins and pockets of forest. Clara and I had wandered these grounds once. Ahead of me, the path was blocked by a wall of overgrown vines and ivies, thick and tangled.

Here it is.

I smirked, flexing my fingers. "Heh. I guess it wouldn't hurt to cut these down."

I took a deep breath, then a faint golden glow swirled in my hand, and in seconds, a sword formed from pure light. It hummed softly as I swung it, slicing through the vines with precision. To the human eye, it might have seemed like I only unleashed two slashes—but in reality, several strikes had already torn through the vines, each one faster than the blink of an eye. As soon as the vines were cleared, the blade vanished from my grip, the glow fading into the night.

Though I've said before that I'm not a trained swordswoman, I suppose that's not entirely true. My father ensured I could protect myself—not just with sorcery, but with swordsmanship too. It's a skill I've kept hidden, a secret edge meant to surprise my opponents when they least expect it.

As a noblewoman, most would never suspect me capable of such a thing, which works to my advantage. Let them underestimate me-it only makes it easier to catch them off guard when the time comes.

The path ahead was open now. My boots crunched softly against the earth as I continued forward, my cloak rippling behind me in the cold breeze. Unlike my usual attire like dresses, I wore a long-sleeve white button-up shirt and black trousers tonight. It was simple, but perfect for sneaking around.

As I walked, I suddenly came to a halt, sensing something in the air. I raised my palm, and a soft orb of light appeared in my hand, pulsing gently before stretching forward, winding through the air like a glowing snake. It slithered ahead, guiding me like a compass.

"There it is," I murmured to myself. "I knew there was something hidden here."

I followed the trail of light until I came across a ruin loomed ahead, its stone frames crumbling with age. Vines crept along its surface, clinging to shattered pillars, and the grand double doors at the entrance were splintered and broken.

"Interesting," I muttered, stepping closer. "Now, let's see what secrets this place been keeping."

I moved quickly, stepping inside with urgency as a swirling orb of light followed closely behind me. The glow illuminated the shadowed corridor, revealing just enough to guide my way through the darkness.

The hallway felt ancient; its architecture was steeped in history. Intricate carvings adorned the walls, though I can see their edges softened. The stone floor blanketed in dust beneath my quiet steps as I proceeded cautiously. Who knew what slumbered in the depths of these ruins—beasts, traps, or something worse?

The light from my orb pulsed as if sensing something ahead, stopping as it hovered in a spacious chamber. Rows of bookshelves towered over me, lined with tomes thick with dust—wait, is this an old library?

My attention was drawn to one particular book, perched high on the tallest shelf. The tome stood out from the others with its intricate design-ornate and undeniably ancient.

What in the world is that book doing up there?

A length of glimmering golden rope materialized in my hand. With practiced precision, I tossed it upwards, wrapping it around the book. A sharp tug dislodged the tome, and I caught it as it tumbled into my hands. Its cover was cool and rough, the texture of worn leather. I swiped a layer of dust away, revealing intricate patterns etched into the binding.

I opened it out of curiosity. The scent of old parchment filled the air, a sharp reminder of its age. As I turned the brittle pages, my gaze locked onto a sigil—one I recognized instantly.

A silver stag, the Valenhart sigil.

But other than that, there was also a sigil of arcane magic. My breath caught in my throat. I am in Valenhart territories, and the only Valenhart in history who wielded this power is none other than.

Alysanne.

But before I could dwell on the discovery, my surroundings began to shift. Faint traces of blue streaked through the sky beyond the broken windows, and the dim orange light of dawn began to spill into the old library.

Panic surged through me. If anyone saw me wandering around like this, it'll ruin my public image.

Without hesitation, I tucked the tome securely under my arm and bolted. My footsteps echoed faintly as I raced back all the way to the manor. I'll examine this book later. For now, I needed to go back unseen.

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Hours later, as the sun reaches the sky from the horizon, its golden light poured through the arched windows of the manor, casting long shadows across the stone walls. From my window, I looked down at the estate below. The grounds were still busy with movement-maids hanging linens to dry, their white cloths glowing in the sunlight, and stable hands leading horses back to the stables. Everything seemed ordinary.

In my hands, I held the book I obtained from the ruins earlier. It was a miracle no one had seen me when I slipped back to the manor. Thanks to the shadows, my dark cloak allowed me to blend into the dim corridors. The servants had passed me by without so much as a glance as I moved swiftly, silently, until I reached my chamber.

Now, seated on the edge of my bed, I let my gaze fall to the book, its leather cover worn with age and its spine creaking as I slowly opened it. The air around it felt strange, heavy, as though it carried the weight of the past.

How are they abandoning such an ancient tome though? They literally left it in the ruins.

I brought my fingers to my chin and pondered.

Alysanne Valenhart, I'd heard about her before, though only fragments of her story had reached me. She was one of the great mage of Veridonia who led the mage's against the Dark Lords four hundred years ago. It is said this realm was barren and filled with snow until she breathed life into it. After the victory, It became a part of Veridonia, and now we call it Wintermere. The Emperor back then assigned Alysanne to protect this land, and that's where the House Valenhart comes from; this duchy was founded by her.

Though, some storytellers say, 'Even when the darkness falls, it will rise again-like a tide that refuses to ebb.'

Well, I must admit they were right.

Alysanne foresaw its return by her dream—stronger, more insidious—and she warned that Wintermere's would one day be swallowed by it, and it would stretch across all of Veridonia if no one rose to stop it.

After four centuries, her prophecy had become little more than a forgotten legend. In Veridonia, few people cared to remember her words, let alone believe them unlike Wintermere.

I let out a quiet breath, flipping through the pages; the only sound in the room was the whisper of the paper under my fingertips. The pages were filled with slight faded ink, meticulous sketches, and looping handwriting until one page caught my attention. The words seemed to hum faintly, resonating deep within me.

"To those who walk in shadow, know that the roots of power run deep, and the one is the guardian of all that endures."

I squinted at the curling script, I am certain I was missing something—some meaning obscured by smudged ink and cryptic phrasing.

Eager to read more, I leaned closer, murmuring the words:

"Through the ebb and flow of time, my bloodline shall endure; my power will not fade. To you, my scion, who inherit my gift—when darkness rises, you are the flame to hold it at bay."

My breath hitched. The flame to hold it at bay? I reread the words, my mind spinning. A successor, perhaps.

Alysanne had foreseen one—someone in her bloodline would inherit her magic. A chill ran down my spine as I stared at the words. I shut the book instinctively.

I couldn't shake the feeling that the words weren't just some long-forgotten prophecy.

For someone to rise before the darkness returned.

Deep in thought, I jolted at the sudden sound of a soft knock on my door. A familiar voice came from the other side.

"Duchess? Are you there?"

Clara? I wonder why she'd be calling on me in the early morning. Crossing the room, I opened the door just a crack. There she stood, smiling warmly.

"Oh, Clara," I said, matching her smile. "May I ask what brings you here?"

She tilted her head playfully. "I was hoping you'd join me for a walk after breakfast."

"The gardens are lovely in the morning, and I... I thought we might enjoy a little air together." She added, her gaze went down, and her hands fidgeted at the hem of her dress.

She seems to like my company, doesn't she? Still, I just have this feeling like she also wants to say something.

I hesitated for a moment, still caught off guard by the interruption, but her enthusiasm was infectious.

"Well," I said, pushing the door open a little wider, "I suppose a walk does sound nice."

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After we finished breakfast, Clara and I strolled through the garden together. The morning air was crisp, and the garden looked particularly beautiful today. We walked side by side, her hand holding mine. Sensing her nervousness, I gently tightened my grip to reassure her. I could sense she had something to say.

Before I could ask, she tugged my hand and led me to the far side of the garden. There, to my surprise, stood two creatures I hadn't expected to encounter today: the dragon hatchlings. The last time I saw them, they were so small, barely the size of kittens. But now they'd grown—still young, but noticeably bigger. They really had grown quickly.

The golden-scaled dragon leaped gracefully onto Clara's shoulder. Its movements were careful and sweet, its tiny claws not scratching her as it climbed up. The green one, meanwhile, stood still, tilting its head to study me with curious, intelligent eyes.

"Duchess," Clara said, her voice warm. "I'd like to introduce you to them properly. This golden one..." She smiled, stroking the dragon perched on her shoulder. "I named him Ashwing, and this green one here, I call her Sylvie."

The dragons seemed to nod their heads in unison, as though they understood Clara's words and were acknowledging the introduction.

It made perfect sense. Clara had been attuned to nature, her Sylva magic allowing her to communicate with creatures in a way I could never fully grasp.

I chuckled softly, my smile widening as I gazed at the creatures before me. "Well, it's nice to meet you both—Ashwing and Sylvie."

The dragons regarded me curiously, their piercing eyes shimmering in the soft light. With a small nod, they tilted their heads in unison, almost as if studying me. There was a quiet intelligence in their movements that was hard to ignore.

In the histories, dragons were described as vile, savage creatures. A beast that roamed these lands long before Wintermere bore its name. They said they were untamable, destructive forces of nature. Yet here they stood, calm and watchful, as if Clara's very presence had tempered their wild instincts. It was difficult to believe, but somehow she had made it possible.

"How did you..." I trailed off, unsure of how to phrase the question lingering in my mind.

Clara met my gaze; her usual cheerfulness dimmed slightly. "It wasn't easy, Duchess. Ashwing and Sylvie weren't always this way."

"I see. You're aware that they're not truly tamable creatures, right?" I said, my gaze shifting to the dragons.

Clara nodded, her expression steady yet filled with something deeper. "I know. But they're orphans—I couldn't just leave them, not knowing what the world is really like. If I released them, they might end up killed by people who don't understand them."

Her words made me pause, and I fell silent for a moment. As much as I wanted to argue, I couldn't. She was right.

"I just..." Her voice softened, and her shoulders slumped slightly. "I don't want them to end up like me."

My breath caught in my throat, and my eyes widened. I totally understand that. Her parents had died not long after she was born—she had lived with that pain and that loneliness. She saw herself in these creatures, empathizing with their loss.

For a moment, her eyes seemed distant and hollow as they fixed on the ground. My heart tensed with worry. Did I remind her of something painful? Was she reliving a memory she'd kept buried?

I stepped closer, gently placing my hands on her shoulders. "Hey," I said softly, my voice as soothing as I could make it. "It's okay. I won't let anything happen to them. Your uncle made sure they'll stay safe here until they're fully grown. No one is going to harm them, I promise."

Clara lifted her gaze to meet mine, but her eyes carried a sadness that made my chest tighten. The next words I heard from her mouth were something I didn't expect.

"Duchess," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, "do you think... I'm a monster?"