Ivy had been taken to the Crown Prince's palace.
Meanwhile, Anna hurried to Duke Ramón's estate to inform him of what had happened and to begin training the duke's son.
William still hadn't left his room. He lay on his bed, sunken in silence, unable to shake off the heaviness pressing on him.
Tap, tap, tap—the sound of a carriage's wheels.
Ivy stared at the Crown Prince's knights through the window, her fear tightening around her chest.
A sharp whinny cut through the air.
The carriage stopped, and the knights stepped down, guiding Ivy out. Together, they moved toward the palace… a place that wasn't frightening, exactly, but lifeless. A silent palace—not chaotic, not broken, simply… dead. Dust blanketed everything. No lamps were lit; only pale sunlight filtered through, illuminating a massive estate with hundreds of rooms—and not a single sound.
As they walked deeper inside, Ivy heard a soft hiss.
The knights froze before Room 313. They glanced at the door, stiff, uneasy… then forced themselves to continue.
They halted again at Room 319.
The door creaked open. Ivy was pushed inside. The door shut behind her—locked.
Ivy: "Someone… please… help me— Mother—"
Her voice trembled, dissolving into small sobs.
The room was tidy but unlit. Only the cold winter light seeped through the window, bluish and quiet. Outside, the forest wrapped around the palace. Thick clouds swallowed the sun until it felt as if day had disappeared entirely.
Minutes passed.
Trin… trin… trin…
A sound echoed from the hall—slow footsteps, a figure moving… and the faint ringing of an old bell.
Ivy: "Please! Please get me out! I'm begging you!"
No response.
But through the door, she began to hear many voices—too many—muffled whispers coming from what felt like every room in the palace.
The one holding the bell kept walking.
Trin… triiin… triiiiiiiiin…!
TROM!
Ivy collapsed, consciousness ripped away from her.
Trom.
Trom.
Trom—
Silence swallowed the entire palace.
Ivy dreamed of a closed flower, pulsing faintly—
budoom… budoom… budoooom…