Then, almost against his better judgment, Edmund said, “Perhaps there is another way.”

Mina’s head snapped up, eyes blazing, heart pounding in her chest. Every part of her body screamed for him to explain, to stop dangling hope like a knife above her throat. The air seemed to tighten around her, each second stretching into a lifetime of fear and anticipation. “What way? Tell me!”

Edmund hesitated, glancing at the notebook in his hands as if it alone held the courage to speak for him. “There is a dungeon in the far North,” he said at last, cautious. “The source of the monsters that prowl beyond the wall. Our guild clears its depths layer by layer. At times, magical relics are found—ancient artifacts, fragments of old tomes. But…” He faltered.

“But what?” Mina pressed.

Edmund sighed. “His Highness collects them all. Cassian Aurelius Leontis Valebourne Dragoumont, crown prince of Eryndor. To withhold any artifact is a crime. Punishments range from fines to exile to… execution.”

The name tumbled through Mina’s mind like a rockslide.

–What a ridiculous mouthful. Did royals compete to see who could cram the most syllables into a single breath?

She barely stifled a snort. Cassian Dragoumont. That would have to do.

Still, a dungeon. Artifacts. A chance, however slim. Her stomach fluttered, light and unsteady at the thought. If she could access the prince’s collection, maybe, just maybe, she could find something that would point her home.

“Besides… there is still a chance you won’t lose yourself,” Edmund continued, his voice low, careful. “Seraphine’s soul may still be here. And because you are connected to her, you might be able to find her.” He hesitated, weighing the weight of his next words. “Of course, it’s like searching for a needle in a haystack that spans the world. But relics, fragments of ancient spells… they could help. The spell Seraphine used came from the ancient magic tome. If we find more pages, more knowledge, maybe, just maybe, we have a path.”

Mina swallowed hard, a tremor running through her. Every second felt like a reminder of how trapped she was, yet her heart clawed at any hope she could grasp.

“If His Highness learns of this,” Isolde interjected sharply, her eyes narrowing, “he will have our heads. This must remain between us. He will see the forbidden spell Seraphine used as a path to immortality. Consequences will not matter. The kingdom, the people, all of it… none of it will matter if he believes he can live again and again.”

Edmund shook his head, a frown tugging at his lips. “Isolde, you exaggerate. He is… compassionate. He cares for his people. He would not recklessly chase immortality at the expense of innocents. I have seen his judgment, his fairness. He is far more responsible than you assume.”

“Responsible or not,” Isolde shot back, voice sharp, “this is different. This is magic that bends the soul itself. If the Crown Prince learns of it, he may be tempted, no matter how noble he thinks himself. He is obsessed with relics and the stories of ancient power. You know it, Edmund. You’ve seen it.”

Mina hesitated, curiosity breaking through the tension. She leaned slightly forward, voice quiet. “What… is he like?”

Edmund smiled faintly, almost like a boy talking about someone he idolized. “He is brilliant, careful, and strong–”

“He’s a reckless prince, I don’t get why you admire him so.” Isolde spat in annoyance.

Edmund straightened suddenly, as if something important had struck him. “By the stars! I forgot! I never offered His Highness my apologies for leaving the celebration last night. Nor my congratulations for the campaign.”

“Campaign?” Mina blinked.

“The west-northern raiders,” Lucien interjected, as if he didn’t want to remain left out. “Barbarians who style themselves sea-kings, though in truth they are nothing but brigands with ships. They thought to plunder our coasts, kidnap women, and seize land as though this kingdom were a banquet for them to feast upon.”

Edmund clasped his hands behind his back, pacing with the energy of a proud hound. “And prince Cassian crushed them! Laughed in their faces, told them to come if they dared, and when they did,” his eyes gleamed with excitement. “By the saints, he and his knights shattered them. Conquered their island, put their warbands to flight, and dragged back prisoners in chains. A flawless victory! Poetry in steel!”

Isolde rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched. “Poetry? You mean madness. He threw himself into their ranks as though he were one of them, hacking and bellowing like a wild barbarian prince. Fighting all the strong enemies by himself. One day, he’ll kill himself playing hero.”

Edmund gave her a sheepish smile. “Perhaps. But he is brilliant, Isolde. You know he is. Ten years ago, he proposed the guild, our guild! Without him, adventurers would still wander as mercenaries, without purpose or rank. Now commoners have purpose, rank, a chance to rise.” His voice warmed with unshakable admiration. “He has vision, my dear. And I, by heavens, owe him at least a letter of apology for leaving yesterday so abruptly!”

Mina tried to picture this prince through their clashing words: in Edmund’s eyes, a shining, brilliant commander; in Isolde’s, a reckless brute with too much ego. The image twisted in her head until she could only imagine a great, bear-chested barbarian, crowned and grinning, sword dripping with blood. The thought nearly made her laugh, if it weren’t for the solemn air around the couple.

Edmund paused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Speaking of the apology… I could use it as an excuse to invite His Highness for a proper meeting,” he said, eyes flicking to Mina. “You could see the collection yourself. Perhaps ask him about the artifacts, ancient pages, everything really. A formal introduction, nothing suspicious.”

Isolde stiffened immediately, crossing her arms. “Are you out of your mind? If the prince even suspects something, anything, he might trace it back to that spell. She could be in danger. Seraphine performed dark magic the likes of which no one has succeeded at. What if he tries to use her for his own ends? You cannot risk it, Edmund.”

Edmund held up a hand, his expression calm but firm. “Isolde, I understand your concern. But there is a way to approach this carefully. Prince Cassian and Seraphine were never close, and despite being my friend, he has never been interested in matters of the heart. His focus has always been on battle, strategy, and his relics. He would never suspect, or care for, anything else.”

Isolde’s eyes narrowed. “Even so, one wrong move and she could be caught. You know how he guards his collection.”

“I do,” Edmund admitted. “But if we are cautious, this can be controlled. The apology gives us a pretext to speak with him, nothing more. Perhaps we can ask a favor, permission for her to join the dungeon with him.”

Isolde scoffed. “Are you crazy? You know how he would react. He won’t play babysitter. It would be dangerous for her to go into the dungeon with him.”

Edmund shook his head. “I trust that, as his friend and fellow guildmaster, he would consider it. Our friendship has weight.”

Isolde rolled her eyes, unconvinced. She glanced at Mina, unsure how to address her now. “And do we even know… if this lady intends to pretend to be Seraphine?”

Mina’s fingers tightened on the edge of the bed. Her voice was low, trembling, but resolute. “If I must, I will live as Seraphine. If I have to fool the Crown Prince, I will. If I have to endure this world in her stead, I’ll do it, until I find a way home.”

Edmund’s brow furrowed, but he said nothing, letting her words settle. “You understand,” he said at last, “that this is no small burden. The spell was forbidden for a reason. Its effects are unknown, its consequences far-reaching. To live her life… it could change you.”

“I know,” Mina whispered, eyes dropping to the floor. “I have to. It’s the only way to keep moving, to keep searching for a way back home.”

Isolde stepped closer, seating herself gently beside Mina on the bed. Her hand found Mina’s, warm and steady, and she gave a small squeeze. “Then we support you,” she said softly. “You don’t have to face this alone. I can’t replace the family you left behind, but I can help you through this. As long as you remember that living her life does not mean losing yourself, you have a home here too.”

Mina’s eyes filled with tears, and for a moment she let herself lean against Isolde’s shoulder. The comfort was quiet, unassuming, but it grounded her more than words could.

 ~Lucien’s POV~

Lucien remained standing a short distance away, hands clasped at his chest, face tight with conflict. He wanted to speak, to argue, to demand that she not take on Seraphine’s life, but the words caught in his throat. If this woman truly became Seraphine, there would be no need for a search for now. He couldn’t wish for her to become Seraphine, that was even cruel for him. And yet… he could not abandon hope entirely.

“You… you’re going to live as her?” he finally asked, voice rough. “Just so you can get close to the prince?”

This imposter met his gaze, silent and firm, and he felt a pang of something he could not name. Anger, fear, longing, grief—tangled into one. He wanted to protect her, but he also wanted to believe Seraphine’s soul was still out there.

Edmund gave a small nod, encouraging this woman. Not paying much attention to Lucien’s disbelief. “Then we proceed carefully. Every word, every step, think of it as a shield. We will help you, but this secret must remain here, between us. It is too dangerous if it falls into the wrong hands.”

Isolde pressed her hand again. “You are brave, my dear. Brave in ways even I could not have imagined. And we will help you carry this burden. You will not face it alone.”

Earlier that same day, Lucien had sworn, without hesitation, that he would wait for Seraphine, no matter how long or how painful the years. The vow had burned steady in him, fierce and unshakable. But now, as the afternoon light slanted through the window, he watched the woman wearing Seraphine’s face draw a shaky breath and wipe her tears the way Seraphine once did.

Her expression, her movements, even the tremor in her voice, so much of her echoed the woman he loved. And yet there was a sliver of difference, subtle but undeniable, like a familiar melody played just off-key. Every smile she gave carried a faint wrongness that pricked at the edges of his certainty.

He wanted desperately to believe the lie, to reach for her and let the resemblance mend the aching hollow in his chest. But the truth lingered, sharp and unyielding, waiting to tear the illusion apart.

Could he hold steady? Could he keep faith with the vow he had made mere hours ago? Or would he falter, surrendering to the temptation of a woman who was almost Seraphine but not?

Lucien’s chest tightened. The line between devotion and longing had never felt thinner and for the first time, he was not sure which side he would choose when the moment came.

~Mina’s POV~

Mina drew a slow, steady breath, feeling the weight carry across her chest. She wiped her tears away and felt determined. She would live as Seraphine, wear the name like armor, and let her own slip quietly into the dark. There was no room for hesitation now. Only the fragile, stubborn hope that somewhere, somehow, a path to home existed.

To survive, she would deceive and endure, move through a life that was not hers, and keep her true self buried deep where no one could touch it. And so she would be Seraphine once more. This time not lost, but carrying a glimmer of hope, however fragile, for herself and for those who still needed her.