She held her breath as the door creaked open. Her pulse quickened. She hadn’t even had time to mentally prepare herself, and now she had to face the duke.

Her eyes widened when Edmund stepped inside, followed closely by Isolde. The sight of Isolde startled her more than she cared to admit.

“What about the prince?” she blurted out.

–Shouldn’t one of you be attending to him?

The words came too fast, too blunt. She caught herself just in time, softening her tone before it could sound disrespectful. Before she asked the question which was now only in her mind. Maybe it was normal to leave the crown prince unattended for a while. Maybe she was overthinking again.

Isolde and Edmund exchanged a glance, one filled with unease. Which only made her more anxious and fear for what their responses could be.

“He left,” Isolde said with a soft sigh. Seraphine could not tell whether it was directed at her or someone else.

“He went to the dungeon,” Edmund added quickly, as if getting it over with.

“To the dungeon? Now?” Seraphine blinked in disbelief. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if prince Cassian was mocking her. She had begged to go there and was refused, yet now he went on his own?

No, no, she had no right to be angry. She had been utterly defeated, brought low by her own arrogance. The prince was free to go wherever he wished. She needed to stop thinking like a petulant child.

–Calm down. I’m still weak. I have no right to complain.

She exhaled slowly, forcing the bitterness from her chest.

She looked at her parents and a thought occurred to her. It still felt strange to think of these strangers as her parents. But at the same time, they weren’t strangers anymore. Their kindness had made that impossible. Even though their relationship was quite unique and perhaps strange, she had no choice but to get used to it. After all, she wanted to play her role well.

–Unless I ruin it again…

Edmund pulled a chair from the dressing table and sat beside her bed, while Isolde perched gently on the edge of the mattress, taking Seraphine’s hand in her own.

–Oh right. The talk.

Before they could speak, Seraphine lowered her head, her vision blurring slightly as wetness gathered at the corners of her eyes.

“I’m sorry for bringing shame to the du Fane family,” she whispered. “You’ve both been kind and accepting of me, even though I’m not truly your daughter. Yet I still acted out today for selfish reasons. I’m sorry… truly.”

She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat thickening as she fought to steady her breath. The sting behind her eyes burned, but she refused to let the tears fall.

“This will not happen again. I promise.”

A soft hand touched her cheek, warm and gentle. Isolde tilted Seraphine’s face upward. Her expression held no anger, only a quiet, maternal understanding.

“We know,” she said softly. “The prince may be a brute, but he has a kind heart. This won’t bring us trouble, so don’t worry.”

It was the first time Isolde spoke kindly of Cassian, though she still called him a brute.

“We do not hold your actions against you,” Edmund added, his tone awkward but sincere. “Given everything, it’s understandable. Still, I hope you’ll refrain from repeating it in the future.” He rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh.

He paused for a moment, as if debating his words, then smiled faintly. “Well…Our daughter was not much different from you. In the past, she too demanded her way and threw tantrums when she did not get it.”

–So I’m no different from the child version of Seraphine? I don’t think that gives me any comfort, father.

He chuckled softly, but it quickly faded into a sorrowful frown. “However, after Leonard Rosenthal’s death, her first fiancé…” He paused, then added quietly, “She changed.”

Isolde looked down, her fingers clutching the blanket tightly. They were trembling slightly and she remained quiet.

“She was such a cheerful girl. We spoiled her far too much. Even when the rumors began, we protected her. We thought it would help… but it only made things worse. She stopped relying on us. Locked herself away.”

Isolde looked away, her eyes fixed on her hands as they gripped the blankets tightly. Her fingers trembled, betraying the tears she was trying to hold back. She remained silent.

“She was a cheerful girl,” Edmund began, his voice heavy with memory. “We spoiled her, even as bad rumors swirled around her. We never scolded her, and we even threatened other nobles to stop bullying her. At first, we thought it helped. But we realized too late that it was done in secret, behind closed doors. Sera did not rely on us. Instead, she withdrew, isolating herself in her bedchamber.”

“Perhaps we didn’t spoil her, but neglected her,” Isolde muttered in a soft whisper. As if those words were forbidden, a truth that was never spoken aloud.

Edmund reached for Isolde’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. His eyes carried the weight of regret.

“So perhaps we have no right to scold you. After all, we treat you like Sera, as if…” he corrected himself. “No, not as if. We do treat you as her replacement. I suppose, in our grief, we needed someone to be her replacement to deny that she left us behind.”

“So, we have our own selfish reasons,” Edmund admitted regretfully, as if the words were forbidden. Isolde nodded in agreement, her expression equally regretful.

Seraphine’s chest tightened. She wondered if that was the case, given how quickly they had accepted her. Perhaps they had only welcomed her as part of their grief, a way to postpone facing the truth. She had suspected it, but hearing it aloud made it sting differently. She did not blame them. They were still in pain, still unable to find closure… That their Seraphine was gone.

Edmund cleared his throat, perhaps to chase away the heaviness. “Now might be a good time to teach you about dark magic.”

“Dark magic?”

Seraphine raised her brows in surprise, caught off guard by the sudden shift in topic. Edmund had brought it up once before, but between her training and everything that happened, she had nearly forgotten to ask about it herself.

“Before I teach you, I need to warn you,” Edmund said, his tone heavy. “This isn’t ordinary magic. It comes with severe consequences and should only be used in moments of true desperation. Or in secret, if ever.”

“Not only is it a family secret,” Isolde added quietly, “it’s branded as corrupt. People call it the magic of witches, demons or devil worshippers.”

Seraphine frowned, confusion flickering across her face. “Lord Lucien explained that to me before, but… why only your family? Why can no one else use it? I know magic is rare, especially among nobles for some reason.”

Edmund’s gaze turned distant, thoughtful. “Our bloodline is an exception. Long ago, our ancestors made a pact. The details were lost, but the tale remains. In exchange for guarding the Northern borders from dungeon creatures, we were granted an affinity to darkness. It gives us strength… and resistance to corruption.” His tone hardened, carrying a quiet warning. “So long as we do not overuse it.”

Isolde nodded. “No one outside the family may know. Not even the servants. Only those born into our line, or married into it, learn the truth.”

“Except for Lord Lucien now,” Seraphine murmured, feeling slightly guilty it was because of her.

“And the crown prince,” Edmund added, with a sheepish look.

Seraphine blinked. “Wait, what? Why does he know? Because he’s the heir?”

Isolde’s expression darkened. “Because Edmund was being foolish and cannot keep secrets from His Highness,” she said, bitterness seeping into her voice.

Edmund coughed softly and waved it off. “A story for another time.”

–Too bad, I was curious to hear about that backstory now.

He continued, voice lowering. “I once tried to teach Sera dark magic. She was somehow frightened by it. She said the shadows unnerved her when I took control over them.”

Edmund raised his hand and drew a slow, deliberate pattern in the air. The words he mouthed were low and indistinct, slipping past her ears like a language not meant for mortals to understand. The hearth’s flames shuddered as if a cold breath passed through them. The fire bent away from his motion and thinned to pale tongues. A chill crawled across Seraphine’s skin, small hairs lifting along her arms.

Light pulled back from the corners of the room. The late afternoon sun slanted lower, and the ordinary shadows lengthened at once, then widened as if frightened into something larger. They stretched toward one another, pooling along the floor and climbing the walls until the world narrowed into a ring of darkness around her bed.

Before she could form a thought, the room became a new place. It felt smaller, enclosed, as though she had been dropped into a bowl of night. She reached out and her hand met resistance. Soft, elastic, like skimming a heavy curtain, it bounced back as she poked at it. Every motion sent the shadow responding. Where she moved, the dark folded and swelled. The bed beneath her was still there, familiar and solid, but beyond its edge the world had become a soft, tactile black that swallowed shapes and muffled edges.

Her heart thudded against her ribs. The first instinct was to flee, to claw at the dark until light returned. But another voice inside her said something different. Curiosity, sharp and clear. The fear was not entirely hers, perhaps it was from the original owner. Part of her leaned forward, eyes wide with a hunger she could not have named.

–Wow. This is so cool!

She flexed her fingers. The shadow slid with her, wrapping a little closer like a cloak. For someone afraid of small spaces, this would be a nightmare. For her it was not suffocating. The darkness felt oddly protective, as if pressed there to shelter rather than to smother.

“Is this a kind of imprisonment?” she called, her voice thin in the hollow. The sound returned softer, rounded by blackness. “Or is it meant to hide someone inside the shadows?”

Edmund lowered his hand and smiled, quiet and unsurprised. Light returned to the room in a ripple, so fast she barely registered it. The hearth flame steadied until the chamber was ordinary again. He folded his fingers together and explained, calm and plain.

“It depends on the wielder,” he said. “The shadows can be a prison. You can bind a space so tightly it will not let any air in, suffocating whoever is inside. Or you can weave a veil that hides a person from sight, even in plain daylight if shadows are available. It is not automatically soundproof though, that requires another layer of intent and craft. Each effect is a choice the caster makes, and each choice pays a price. Depending on the spell, it could just be your stamina or sometimes it even requires some of your blood.”

He watched her face carefully, as if gauging how she took it all in. “You weren’t afraid of the shadows?”

Seraphine shook her head eagerly, her eyes bright. “Not at all! I wish to learn all of it. That was just one of your spells, right? Do you need an incantation to cast it?”

–I’m not sure if I heard any, but he did mumble something.

Edmund smiled, the tension in his shoulders easing. “No. There’s no need for an incantation. Magic relies on the mind and imagination. Naming a spell helps for clarity or preference, but it isn’t required. In battle, monsters don’t wait for a caster to finish chanting.”

His tone grew firm, his expression turning grave. “For that matter. Because dark magic is shaped by the mind and what you imagine, it is of utmost importance to remain stable and clear-headed. To wield dark magic, you must stay sane, or it will consume you. The whispers you hear won’t always be your own thoughts. The things you see might not be real. Dark magic feeds on fear and negative emotions. In the end, you could lose your sanity.”

He paused, his eyes meeting hers. “So, are you truly sure you wish to learn?”

“Yes!” Seraphine answered without hesitation. How could she possibly pass up the chance to learn magic, something that had only existed in fantasy back in her old world.

“Very well. Then allow me to demonstrate one of my specialty spells,” Edmund said with a faint smile as he unsheathed his sword. His hand moved from the tip to the hilt, and black flames seeped out like liquid shadows, coating the steel in a dark shimmer. The air grew colder, the light from the hearth dimming as if the flames devoured it.

Seraphine’s eyes widened, not in fear but in awe. The eerie glow of the blade, alive yet silent, sent a thrill through her chest. It was beautiful in a dangerous way.

“With this, you can enhance the blade’s power, especially against monsters vulnerable to magic,” Edmund explained. “With enough practice, you’ll be able to cast and dispel it in an instant, before anyone even realizes what happened.”

He dispelled the magic at once, the black flames vanishing without a trace. Silence followed, heavy but thoughtful, as Edmund seemed to choose his next words with care. “I… have a faint idea where your specialty might lie,” he finally said. “It’s rather ironic. Sera once feared dark magic, yet she was the one who managed to succeed in summoning you here. Which means she, or you, might have an affinity for summoning magic.”

“Then–!”

Seraphine’s eyes brightened with sudden hope, but Edmund raised his hand before she could finish. He shook his head slowly, already anticipating her thoughts.

“You cannot summon yourself home,” he said firmly. “Nor can you open a portal to your world, or bring anyone from it here. It’s far too dangerous. I told you what happened to those who tried such spells. For all we know, Sera only managed a partial success, and even that came at a terrible cost. If you value your life, don’t attempt it.”

He exhaled, his tone softening. “Besides, I make it sound simple, but magic is far from easy. There are fundamentals you must understand before attempting even the smallest spell.”

“But Seraphine never used magic before, right? What if I practice a lot?” She protested, unable to deny the possibility.

Edmund’s expression softened, pity and sorrow flickering in his eyes. He shook his head again. “Perhaps we never truly knew our daughter. For all we know, she could have practiced in secret behind closed doors… or let her emotions fuel the spell.” His gaze lowered for a moment, thoughtful. “There are many possibilities, but they are only guesses. The truth died with her. So, for that reason, I don’t recommend attempting that spell ever again.”

Isolde reached for her hand, holding it tightly. She had remained quiet until now, but this seemed to finally break her silence. “Please… I know it’s selfish of us, but don’t try to perform it. We may not be your real parents, but you are real to us. I know you’re not her, yet I still see her in you. I’m not ready to let her go.”

Seraphine’s chest tightened. The words struck deep, stirring both guilt and confusion. She knew she had to play the role of their daughter, yet the thought of losing her own identity in the process frightened her.

“Isolde…” Edmund said gently, drawing her into his arms. She sobbed quietly, as if mourning their daughter all over again. It had only been recently that the truth had come to light, and the ache still felt raw and strange.

“Forgive me,” Isolde whispered after a moment, dabbing at her eyes with Edmund’s handkerchief. “You were supposed to learn the basics of dark magic from him today, but I… I delayed everything.” She offered a sheepish smile, tinged with embarrassment at her own hesitation.

“That’s alright, my dear. No one would blame you,” Edmund said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face and stroking her head gently. “I had only planned to demonstrate and explain the basics of dark magic to her today.”

He faced Seraphine seriously, his violet eyes flecked with blue hues steady on hers. “Are you certain you are ready for this?”

“I’m more than willing to learn about magic, no matter what others brand it or what consequences I may face. I will keep it secret–,” she replied firmly and determinedly.

–And keep it safe.

A faint smile threatened at the corners of her lips at the private reference. It was something she had shared with someone special in her old life, a habit too ingrained to fully hide. But no one here would understand, so she swallowed it down. Old habits died hard, they said.

She took a deep breath, letting her expression return to its usual composure. “I promise not to tell a soul and to keep my magic hidden. I don’t want anyone to brand the du Fane family as devil worshippers, not even with the backing of the king or the prince. I already have enough bad rumors surrounding me as Seraphine, so I will be extra cautious.”

–I’m not stupid, even if the prince said I was.

“Good. Then we will begin the lessons at dawn. For now, rest and recover from the fight you had. I imagine your body still aches.” Edmund clapped his hands lightly, not just to signal the end of the conversation, but to call Alisea as well.

The maid appeared almost instantly, moving with quiet efficiency to the hearth. She stoked the flames, sending golden light spilling across the room, and the shadows from Edmund’s earlier demonstration retreated, writhing as if fleeing the warmth. The air grew more comfortable, the chill from the dark magic fading, replaced with the gentle heat of a living fire.

Seraphine settled back against her pillows as Alisea tended to the hearth. The fire crackled softly, filling the room with a gentle warmth that lulled her into drowsiness. Her eyelids grew heavy, the quiet murmur of flames fading into silence.

The crackle of fire faded. Darkness pressed in. The air turned heavy, cold, suffocating. Then came the sound of something wet, flesh meeting metal again and again. A sickening rhythm. Splashes of red painted the floor in her mind, sharp against the dark.

A faint sob echoed from somewhere far off, begging or pleading, followed by the thud of something collapsing. A man’s silhouette lay sprawled on the ground. The faint moonlight slipped across his face, catching the glint of golden eyes before they dimmed to nothing.

The laughter that followed was soft, almost musical. A young woman’s voice hummed between each breath.

“Shh… it’s all right,” she cooed. “You’ll be fine. You’ll become mine soon.”

The sound drew closer, her whisper brushing against Seraphine’s ear.

“Sleep, my love. I’ll keep you safe. You’ll never need anyone but me.”

Seraphine jerked awake with a gasp. Sweat clung to her neck. The fire had burned low, leaving only dull embers and long shadows.

Her chest heaved as she tried to calm her breathing. Was it dark magic? A warning? Did learning about dark magic trigger something? Her lessons hadn’t even started yet.

Unless… it wasn’t because of the magic at all.

[Author’s Note: If you want to stay more up to date with schedules, check out my Minkly.]