Chapter- 12
993 Words
Dinner had gone well—at least, that was how it appeared.
Lilly walked through the palace gardens alone, the cool night air biting gently at her cheeks as moonlight washed over the path of pale stones beneath her feet. The laughter and clinking glasses from the dining hall had long faded into memory, leaving behind a quiet that felt more honest than anything that had been said at that table.
Queen Aeliana was kind, dignified. King Dorian’s approval had been measured but present. Yet even their warmth had felt like a carefully folded curtain—draped over truths no one wanted to say aloud.
No one knew who she really was.
Or worse—maybe they didn’t care to.
Selene had offered icy smiles, every comment she made dipped in velvet and venom.
“Such poise,” she’d said, turning her wineglass slowly between elegant fingers. “Almost like you were meant to be here. But surely that can’t be right. Can it?”
Her father, King Oberon, had barely looked at Lilly. When he had, it was like being pinned beneath a thousand-year-old gaze—alien and knowing. His silence said more than words ever could.
Even Rowen, seated beside her, hadn’t said the one thing that might have anchored her: She belongs here. She’s not just a guest.
Because he didn’t say it.
Because maybe he couldn’t.
Lilly let out a quiet breath, her arms wrapped around herself. The weight of her dress—fine and unfamiliar—suddenly felt like armor, heavy and cold.
Her feet took her past the rose arches, the silver-tipped blossoms brushing her shoulders, and down to the lower gardens where the moonlight turned the world to glass. The night was still, too still.
And then… the air shifted.
She stopped.
The wind stilled. Even the rustling of the leaves fell silent, as if nature itself was holding its breath.
Her skin prickled. The air felt denser, charged.
Then—just ahead, near the edge of the moonlit path—a flicker.
A shape. A shadow. Almost too fast to see.
Lilly’s heart pounded.
It had been there. A figure. Watching.
She stood frozen for a moment, trying to convince herself it had been a trick of the light. But something inside her—something old and deep—knew better.
Her hands trembled slightly as she stepped closer to where she thought the shadow had been, drawn by a feeling she didn’t understand.
And then—a memory surged.
Like a wave crashing over her.
She was small. No older than six.
Cold stone floors. The scent of lavender and iron. The sound of bells in the distance.
She was sitting on a hard cot, too big for her, her tiny hands clutching a worn stuffed bear with one eye missing. Around her, children laughed and played, but she stood near the window, staring out at the gray morning sky.
She didn’t know where she was.
She didn’t even know her name.
The orphanage matron had found her curled up beneath the outer wall, wrapped in strange fabric that shimmered when the light touched it. No one knew who had left her there. No letters. No crest. Nothing.
“I suppose we’ll just call her Lilly,” the matron had said, brushing snow from the girl’s tangled dark hair. “She looks like a Lilly, doesn’t she?”
The others had accepted her quickly—children had a way of doing that. But adults always looked at her with wary curiosity. They whispered. Wondered.
And there were… incidents.
Lights flickered when she cried. Objects move without touch. Dreams she couldn’t explain that came true in strange, twisted ways.
She learned quickly not to show too much. To hide the things she could do.
She learned to become invisible.
Back in the garden, Lilly’s breathing became quicker. She rubbed her arms, trying to shake the memory off, but it clung to her like a second skin.
She’d tried so many times to remember what came before the orphanage. Faces. Names. Anything.
But there had always been a wall in her mind—blurred, silent, impenetrable.
Until now.
The strange force in the air was pressing against her again. Not just around her, but inside her. Stirring something.
She stepped toward the fountain where she’d first seen the flicker. The water was unnaturally still.
And then… it moved again.
A shadow rippling across the surface—not above it, but within it. Like something was just beneath, reaching up.
She stumbled back.
“Who’s there?” she called, her voice sharp against the silence.
The shadow paused.
Then, just for a heartbeat, she heard something—a whisper—right beside her ear. Not in a language she knew. But familiar. Ancient.
She spun. No one.
Nothing.
Her pulse thundered in her ears as she backed away from the fountain. She didn’t know if she should run or scream or reach out and touch whatever it was.
And still… she wasn’t afraid. Not entirely.
Because somewhere deep in her chest, it felt like something had recognized her.
Not the other way around.
By the time she returned to the castle doors, the weight in her chest hadn’t faded. If anything, it had grown heavier.
She leaned against one of the cool marble pillars, trying to steady herself. She could still feel the echo of that presence—like a phantom hand resting just between her shoulder blades.
She wanted to run to Rowen. To ask him if he’d felt it too. To demand answers.
But what would she even ask?
And why did the force feel so… familiar?
She pressed her palm to her chest, where her heartbeat was starting to slow. For a long moment, she simply stood there, staring out into the night.
Something was coming. Or maybe… something was waking up.
And whatever it was—it had found her.
- Writer
