The unseen choir of dawn, pierced the lingering tendrils of sleep. My eyelids fluttered, then lifted, to a world painted in molten gold. Sunlight, thick as honey, streamed through the narrow window, igniting a swirling ballet of dust motes in its beams, each a miniature, dancing star. Beside me, Adrix lay still, the rhythm of his breath a deep, reassuring tide.

Then, the memory of last night’s kiss surfaced – a sudden, insistent warmth that bloomed through me, settling on my lips like a lingering touch. My fingers drifted there, tracing the phantom pressure of his. Adrix’s breathing hitched. He stirred, a subtle shift in the stillness. I turned my head, my own breath catching, as his eyes slowly opened. His violet gaze, still clouded with sleep, met mine, holding it for a long, moment before a slow, smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Good morning, Lyra,” he murmured, his voice a gravelly whisper, rich with the remnants of sleep.

“Good morning, Adrix. Sleep well?”

“As well as can be expected, all things considered.” He pushed himself up, stretching with grace. “Though, perhaps we should consider starting the day.”

A soft, hesitant knock at the door shattered the quiet intimacy, and my heart hammered against my ribs. Adrix and I exchanged a swift, questioning glance.

“It’s me, Amelia,” a muffled voice called, reassuringly familiar.

I slid from the bed, cautiously creaking the door open. Amelia bustled in, her arms laden with a bundle of neatly folded clothes. “Good morning, you two. I’ve brought your attire.” She offered a set to Adrix, then turned to me. “Lyra, the princess is currently absent from her chambers; you may change there. Then, your search can begin.”

“Thank you, Amelia,” I said, the folded garments cool in my hands. She led me to the princess’s chamber. I slipped into the long black dress she’d provided. The fabric, fine and cool, whispered against my skin as I fumbled with the ties at the back. It felt like a costume, constricting and alien. The girl in the mirror was a stranger, her features mine, but softened, almost… refined. More suited to a royal court than someone on the run, I thought wryly. With a quiet sigh, I slid my dagger into its sheath in my boot – a comforting weight, easily accessible. Tugging my hair back with the black ribbon Amelia had included, I fashioned a severe, practical ponytail, then opened the door.

Adrix leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed, waiting. He looked me over, a flicker – surprise? approval? – in his violet eyes before they warmed with a familiar gentleness. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I replied. “Any grand strategies for locating one ancient staff?”

He pushed off the wall, straightening. “How about this way?” He gestured down a long, echoing corridor, identical to the one we’d just left. “It looks as promising, or as daunting, as any other.” A teasing light sparked in his eyes, his lips quirking. “Though I confess, I feel like I’m back in those accursed ancient ruins – every door and every wall looks the same.”

I fell into step beside him, navigating the labyrinthine halls. They unfurled before us, undeniably beautiful, lined with faded tapestries depicting heroic sagas and carvings so intricate they seemed to breathe. Yet, a knot of unease tightened in my stomach; finding our way back through this gilded maze would be a trial in itself. We wandered, each corridor melting into the next, a disorienting tapestry of stone and silence.

“Why don’t we split up?” I offered, turning to Adrix as we paused at yet another identical intersection. “We’ll cover more ground.”

He hesitated, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. “I don’t know, Lyra… this place is a maze, cut off one hallway and two more appear.” He paused, then gave a reluctant nod. “Alright. But be careful. Here,” he said, summoning the ruby earring I wore before. It pulsed with a faint, almost imperceptible white light, a tiny captured star. “Wear this. It’s attuned to mine. A whisper is all it takes.”

I took it, the metal surprisingly cool against my palm, and secured it to my ear. “Okay, connected,” I said, offering a smile I hoped was more confident than I felt. With a final, shared glance that spoke volumes, we went our separate ways.

After what felt like an eternity of identical corridors, my footsteps echoing unnervingly in the oppressive silence, a sharp, feminine voice pierced the quiet. “Dolion, please stop!” The plea, edged with distress, snagged at my memory. Familiar.

Drawn by an instinct I couldn’t name, a protective current, I moved closer, melting into the deep shadows behind a colossal marble pillar. It was Amelia. The man confronting her was tall, his attire of the finest silks – rich blues and golds that shimmered even in the dim corridor light, marking him unmistakably as nobility. He couldn’t have been much older than his early twenties, with a cascade of artfully tousled blonde hair and striking, emerald-green eyes. His handsome features, however, were twisted into an ugly, scowl as he loomed over her. I held my breath, listening intently.

“Amelia, please, just listen,” he urged, his tone a grating blend of charm and ill-concealed impatience. “Give me a chance. Just one evening, that’s all I ask.”

“No, Dolion, I will not,” Amelia retorted, her voice firm despite a tremor I could now discern. “This palace overflows with women eager for your attentions. I am not among them. I am not interested.”

“But you’re the only one I desire,” his voice lost its edge, hardening into something colder. “You should heed me while I’m still inclined to be… persuasive. You know I can compel you, Amelia, though I’d prefer not to resort to such… unpleasantries.” I risked a peek; he was encroaching on her space, his posture radiating menace.

A hot surge of anger rose, fierce and protective on Amelia’s behalf. This entitled peacock deserved a lesson. But a colder, more pragmatic voice, the one honed by years of survival, cut through. Exposure is a death sentence. The mission comes first. Adrix’s caution echoed in my mind.

Suddenly, Amelia slapped his advancing hand away with surprising force. “That is enough!” she snapped, her composure regained, her eyes flashing with righteous fire. “I must attend to the princess. Leave me be.”

Seizing the moment of Dolion’s stunned expression,  I began to retreat, a silent shadow detaching itself from deeper shadow. I turned right down the nearest passage and, desperate to put distance between myself and that distasteful scene, quickened my pace. Too fast. Rounding a blind corner, I collided with a solid form, a startled gasp escaping me as we both stumbled.

“Oh! Forgive me, I am so sorry,” I stammered, bowing my head immediately, instinctively avoiding eye contact, my carefully constructed servant persona snapping into place.

“Look up.” Her voice was sharp, commanding, devoid of any forgiveness.

Reluctantly, I did as commanded, slowly lifting my gaze, willing my suddenly trembling hands to still at my sides. Be timid, I reminded myself fiercely. Look like you belong, but not like you’re important. Just another servant.

The maid, older, her face a roadmap of stern disapproval, scrutinized me with piercing, assessing eyes. “I have not seen your face before. Who are you, and to whom do you owe service?” Her eyes narrowed, sharp and suspicious. “Have you lost your tongue, girl? Answer!”

My own voice emerged as a shaky whisper, barely audible. “My name is… Lilly.” The name, a forgotten nickname of childhood, sprang to my lips. “I… I serve the princess. I was just on my way to report to her,” I added, dropping my gaze to the polished marble, praying it conveyed the right mix of deference and insignificance.

She examined me for a long, excruciating moment, her silence more unnerving than her pointed questions. Her gaze, hard and unsettlingly astute, seemed to pierce my flimsy facade. “You’re heading away from the Princess’s wing,” she stated, her voice flat. “You missed your turn some way back.” My eyes flickered up, then down again. Her expression was granite. “Learn the palace layout, girl. Or you’ll find yourself in places you don’t belong, and that rarely ends well.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you,” I mumbled, bowing even lower this time, a hot flush of embarrassment and fear creeping up my neck. “Thank you, I will be more careful.”

“Indeed. Now, be on your way, Lilly.” The emphasis on the false name sent a shiver down my spine.

I turned and practically fled in the direction she had indicated, only daring to peek over my shoulder once I was a considerable distance down the hall. She was still there, a stern, unmoving silhouette against the distant light, watching.

“Are you alright, Lyra?” Adrix’s voice, a low murmur through the earring, was a welcome, grounding anchor in the suffocating silence.

Once certain I was out of the maid’s sight and her oppressive scrutiny, I finally answered, my voice hushed. “Yes, fine. Just… a minor complication. Quickly resolved, I believe.”

“Good. Listen,” his voice grew more serious, a new gravity to it. “There’s a subtle tracing enchantment woven into your earring – I can pinpoint your location. Considering that, and your minor complication, I think it’s best we regroup. Sticking together seems prudent.”

A wave of relief, washed through me.

“Agreed. I’ll continue towards the area the princess’s chambers should be located,” I replied.

“Okay. I’m heading that way now. See you shortly.”

I resumed my cautious journey through the vast, silent hallways. So far, no unusual mana signatures had betrayed themselves, and despite the unnerving encounters, the ambient magic of the palace felt surprisingly mundane—until, with breathtaking suddenness, it wasn’t.

A chill, profound and unnatural, snaked up my spine, raising goosebumps along my arms. I saw it then, bleeding around the upcoming corner like a living shadow: a plume of dark mana, so profoundly black it seemed to swallow the ambient light, its edges wispy and ethereal, like corrupted smoke. It pulsed with a vile, corrosive energy, an abomination I’d never encountered. Every hair on my body rose. Primal fear, cold and sharp, seized my throat; a silent scream to flee.

I began to back away, slowly, carefully, my heart a wild drum against my ribs, my eyes compulsively fixed on that encroaching horror. Just as I was about to turn and bolt, a hand clamped hard around my mouth from behind, stifling my gasp. An arm, strong as iron, snaked around my waist, yanking me backwards against a solid, unyielding form. Terror, pure and unthinking, flooded me. My eyes widened, and I instinctively tensed to bring my heel down hard—

“Shhh, Lyra! It’s me,” Adrix’s voice, urgent and low, breathed into my ear, his breath a surprisingly warm opposition to the terror gripping me. He pulled me flush against the cold stone wall, his body a shield before mine. “Whoever, or whatever, is wielding that dark mana is drawing closer. I can feel it—it’s incredibly powerful.”

He released my mouth but kept a steadying arm locked around my waist, turning me to face him in the narrow confines of our shadowed alcove. As I tried to steady my ragged breathing, my racing heart still a frantic drum against my ribs, I pressed my free hand against the wall beside me for balance. My trembling fingers brushed against a subtle anomaly in the stone – a slightly raised, almost imperceptible carving, cool beneath my touch.

Click.

The sound was soft, a mere whisper of well-oiled mechanics, yet it sliced through the silence. The section of wall beneath my hand groaned, a low, ancient sound, and swung inwards. We stumbled backwards, utterly unprepared, tumbling into the sudden, cool blackness of a hidden passage as the wall sighed shut behind us with a soft, decisive thud.