By late afternoon, the palace was humming with the kind of busy silence that only came before an important night. Servants hurried in and out of chambers carrying linens, ribbons, silver trays. Guards rotated shifts with sharper eyes than usual. Even the air felt tight—like the kingdom itself was holding its breath.
I walked through the halls as if I belonged in every shadow.
In my first life, I drifted silently through this palace like a polite ghost—never asking, never listening where I shouldn't, never suspecting danger until it was too late.
This life was different.
Now I knew exactly where to walk if I wanted to hear secrets.
The west corridor.
The most innocent-looking place in the palace.
A long stretch of marble lined with tall windows and pale curtains, quiet during daylight, deserted in the evening.
The perfect place to hide treachery.
And I wasn't disappointed.
As I turned the corner, voices drifted through the crack of an almost-closed door.
Soft.
Urgent.
Familiar.
I stopped.
One voice belonged to Arcelia.
The other…
I couldn't place yet.
But it was low, male, sharp with impatience.
I moved closer, silent, placing my back to the wall. The sliver of space between door and frame allowed sound to leak out just enough.
Arcelia hissed, "You said she wouldn't remember anything!"
A pause.
"She shouldn't," the man replied. "You said the poison only clouded her dreams."
Poison?
My breath caught.
Arcelia spoke again—quieter, almost trembling. "It was supposed to dull her mind. Make her easy to control. It wasn't supposed to make her… like this."
Like this.
My nails dug into my palm.
In my first life, they didn't kill me quickly.
They weakened me for years.
Soft poison in my drinks.
Sleep-tonics.
Herbs mixed into perfume and tea.
I thought it was stress.
Overwork.
Queenly burdens.
They were poisoning me.
And Arcelia was the one giving the doses.
The man growled, "If she keeps remembering, all of our plans fall apart."
My heart thudded.
Their plans.
"What do we do now?" Arcelia whispered, fear cracking her perfect voice. "She looks at me as if she knows everything. And Kael—he's watching her too closely. If they start comparing notes—"
"Then we deal with it," the man snapped. "But your job remains the same."
My sister's breath hitched. "Mine?"
"Yes. Stay close to her. Pretend to care. Learn what she knows. And when the time comes—"
He paused.
"—you'll finish what you started."
The floor tilted under my feet.
Arcelia inhaled sharply, then whispered, "I already killed her once. I can't—"
"You can," he snarled. "And you will. Or do you want the council to know whose hand held the dagger?"
Silence.
Then Arcelia whispered, brokenly, "No. I'll do what I must."
The dagger.
So she killed me with her own hand—
and the man in this room helped her hide it.
Before I could lean closer, the shadows beside the door rippled like smoke.
A presence.
Cold.
Aware.
Watching me.
Not human.
My pulse stopped.
Him.
The shadow-man.
His violet eyes glowed faintly from the dark, visible only to me. He lifted one finger to his lips, telling me to stay silent.
And then—
he pointed at the door.
Listen.
I did.
Inside, Arcelia continued in a soft, terrified whisper, "She looked at me this morning like she knew. Like she remembered the entire night—the blood, the blade—everything."
"You're imagining it," the man said. "She can't remember death."
"She said… she saw the moon bleeding," Arcelia whispered. "That's what she said the night she—"
A sudden slam of a book or fist cut her off.
"Do not speak of that," the man growled. "Walls have ears in this place."
Irony burned in my throat.
"So what do I do now?" Arcelia asked.
"Keep her close. Distract her. If she goes to the western forest again, stop her. And whatever you do—don't let her speak to the King alone."
My blood ran cold.
"That girl sees too much," he continued. "If she tells him anything, the entire plan risks unraveling."
Arcelia exhaled shakily. "Fine. I'll handle it. But… if she grows too suspicious—"
Another silence.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
Then the man said:
"Then we kill her again."
A tremor ran up my spine.
The shadow-man beside me did not move, but the air around him tightened, almost vibrating with fury.
I took one slow step back.
Another.
The shadow-man followed me silently, his presence as quiet as falling ash.
When I finally reached the end of the hallway, he materialized fully—
tall, cloaked, a ghost made of night.
His voice slid into the air, soft and cold.
"You see now," he murmured, "why I told you they will try again."
I swallowed hard. "Who was that with her?"
"A traitor woven into the palace walls," he said. "A man your father trusts more than he should."
"Name," I whispered.
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then he shook his head slowly.
"Not yet."
Anger flared in my chest. "Why?"
"Because knowing a name is dangerous," he said. "You are not strong enough yet."
I stepped closer. "Then help me become strong."
For the first time, something flickered across his unseen face.
Not surprise.
Not pity.
Recognition.
"You truly are different in this life," he murmured.
"Tell me how I died," I said fiercely. "Not the way they told others. Not the lie they wrote in the palace ledger. Tell me the truth."
His eyes glowed brighter.
"You bled out on marble while the moon tore a hole in the sky to drag your soul back."
I shivered.
"Why me?"
He reached out—not touching me, but letting his fingers hover near mine.
"When you were born," he said, "the moon marked you. It gave you a piece of itself. A gift… or a curse, depending on how you use it."
"My magic," I whispered.
"Yes."
"And them? Why do they want me dead?"
His voice dropped to a deadly whisper.
"Because you are the only one with the power to expose them."
I inhaled sharply. "Expose what?"
He leaned closer.
"The truth about the kingdom."
A chill raced through me.
"The truth about your mother."
My breath stopped.
"And the truth about the throne…"
His eyes blazed violet.
"…and who it really belongs to."
A crack thundered through the corridor—
someone opening the chamber door violently.
"Arcelia, wait!" Kael's voice rang out.
My heart jumped.
The shadow-man turned sharply, shadows curling around him like claws.
"Go," he said. "If the prince finds you here, questions will follow."
"And you?" I whispered.
"Shadows don't leave footsteps," he murmured. "I'll be gone."
Before I could blink, he dissolved into the darkness behind a pillar—
vanishing completely.
Kael appeared at the far end of the hall, searching.
He saw me instantly.
"Aura?" he called, frowning. "What are you doing down here alone?"
I steadied my breath.
I steadied my heartbeat.
And then I turned to him with a small, perfect smile—the kind that hid fire behind soft eyes.
"Kael," I said sweetly, "I think we need to talk."
His brows lifted. "About what?"
I stepped closer, lowering my voice.
"About who, exactly, wants me dead."
His face went pale.
And that was the moment I knew:
Chapter by chapter,
step by dangerous step,
this life was already turning into a game of survival.
Only this time—
I was the one writing the rules.