And before dawn could even properly arrive…
Famoura wasted no time.
The sky was still dark, the world still sleeping beneath cold mist, when she quietly gathered a few of her belongings. She wrapped herself in her dark cloak, pulled the hood over her head, and slipped away like a shadow into the morning air.
No guards noticed.
No servants questioned.
No one stopped her.
Because the castle had never truly believed she would run.
But Famoura Felóenz did not run out of fear.
She ran out of desperation.
She rode straight through the sleeping forest, the horse's hooves striking the wet earth like a heartbeat.
Her breath was sharp.
Her hands trembled.
Not because of cold…
but because she knew.
She knew she was being buried alive.
And the only place where silence felt safer than royalty…
was Sylvester Woodland Library.
There, beneath the ancient trees and misty skies, she waited.
She waited for the only people who still made her feel human.
Minutes passed.
Then footsteps.
Fast.
Hurried.
Edward Laurent appeared first.
His coat was damp with morning dew, and his expression carried confusion and worry.
The moment he saw her standing there, he frowned.
"Famoura…" he asked quickly. "How are you here so early?"
Famoura's gaze stayed firm, but her voice was soft.
"I will explain everything…" she said.
Then she looked toward the empty path behind him.
"But first… let everyone come."
Edward didn't question her further.
He simply nodded.
Soon, one by one, the rest arrived.
Anthony Félix.
Elizabeth Félix.
Victor Laurent.
All of them gathered near the library entrance, their breaths visible in the cold air.
The forest around them was quiet.
Too quiet.
Famoura took a deep breath.
Her hands trembled slightly beneath her cloak.
Then she spoke.
"It is possible…" her voice cracked, "…that today may be the last day I meet you all."
The air instantly grew heavier.
Anthony stepped forward, shocked.
"What are you saying, Famoura?"
Famoura nodded slowly, as if forcing herself to accept the truth.
"Yes…" she whispered. "My family has decided that I am allowed to study."
Elizabeth's face brightened immediately.
"But that's a good thing, isn't it?" she asked. "You'll finally be able to study!"
Famoura's lips curved into a bitter smile.
"Studying is good…" she said.
Then her eyes sharpened.
"But listen carefully."
She looked at all of them, one by one.
"They are building a university…"
A pause.
Her voice lowered.
"…beneath the castle."
Everyone froze.
Even Victor's usual expression of arrogance disappeared.
Famoura continued, her voice tightening.
"A university under the castle walls. A private one… only for me."
She swallowed.
"And do you know what else?"
Her eyes darkened.
"They have built a room for me there too."
Anthony's brows furrowed.
Famoura clenched her fists.
"Professors will come one by one to teach me…"
Her voice trembled with disgust.
"And I am no longer allowed to leave the castle."
A painful silence fell.
The forest seemed to hold its breath.
Then Famoura whispered the most terrifying part—
"Construction began last night…"
Her eyes lowered.
"And it will be completed by tonight."
Victor's jaw tightened.
His voice was rough.
"This is cruel," he muttered. "Why are your lives never normal? Why are you never treated like a human being?"
Elizabeth looked down, helpless.
"There is no solution, Victor…" she whispered.
Edward stepped forward slowly.
His eyes were serious and sincere.
His voice was steady, yet heavy.
"Famoura…"
He paused, swallowing the heaviness in his throat.
"Your life matters more than our friendship."
Famoura's eyes trembled.
Edward continued.
"If what they are doing is truly for your safety… and I must lose you for that…"
His voice broke slightly.
"…then I am ready."
His eyes softened.
"But know this…"
He stepped closer.
"I will never forget you."
Anthony and Elizabeth moved forward too.
Their voices were trembling.
"We will never forget you either."
Victor smiled sadly.
But his eyes held pain.
"It hurts to hear this…" he whispered.
Then he exhaled.
"But it also makes me happy."
He looked straight at Famoura.
"Because at least you are going to do what you always wanted."
He forced a smile.
"And that gives me peace."
His voice lowered.
"All the best, dear."
Famoura's eyes shimmered.
Her lips trembled.
She spoke quietly—
"Thank you… all of you."
She swallowed.
"I will never forget you either."
Then, without another word…
they stepped closer.
They formed a circle.
Arms around one another.
Foreheads touching.
Like a sacred oath sealed without blood.
And together they spoke as one—
"We will always be there for one another.
Whether we meet again or not…
we will never forget."
Famoura stepped away first.
Her throat tightened.
With one last look, she whispered goodbye.
Then she turned—
and walked back toward the castle.
Back toward the cage.
---
Back at Château de Chambord
The moment Famoura entered the castle gates…
the heavy doors shut behind her.
CLANG.
The sound echoed through the halls like a prison chain being locked.
As if the castle itself had swallowed her.
She walked upstairs slowly, but her eyes remained cold.
And when she reached her chamber window…
she looked down.
And she saw it.
The underground university was nearly complete.
Walls.
Candles.
Chairs.
Bookshelves.
And a staircase that looked like a throat leading into darkness.
That very day…
her lectures began.
She attended every class beneath the castle like a prisoner disguised as a student.
Only one chair.
Only one desk.
Only one soul.
Professors arrived one by one.
They spoke.
They taught.
They avoided her eyes.
Then they left…
as if she was a secret too dangerous to be spoken of.
Hours passed.
By the time night arrived, Famoura's body felt drained.
And her mind felt heavier than stone.
She climbed back up into her room in the upper castle.
Her footsteps were slow.
Her heart empty.
The candle flickered.
The silence returned.
And Famoura realized—
this was her new life.
A life without sunlight.
Without friends.
Without freedom.
A life inside books.
A life inside chains.
---
The Next Morning
The next morning, she prepared herself again.
She went down into her underground university.
Her routine had already begun.
A lecture passed.
Then came a short break.
Famoura sat quietly, reading a book with tired eyes.
The air was still.
The underground walls smelled of fresh stone.
Then suddenly—
THUD. THUD. THUD.
A violent sound echoed from above.
Famoura froze.
Her head snapped upward.
Her heart began to race.
It wasn't footsteps.
It wasn't soldiers.
It was heavier.
Louder.
More dangerous.
The sound of many horses running together.
Her breathing tightened.
"What… is happening?" she thought.
---
Chaos Above
At the top of the castle…
chaos unfolded.
All princes and princesses had gathered.
Even King Francis was present.
The royal guards stood lined like statues.
The air was filled with fear.
But the one person missing—
was Famoura.
Suddenly, Princess Catherine screamed.
Her voice cracked with panic.
"Famoura is not here! Bring Famoura to me!"
The soldiers stood stiff.
Then Princess Marie turned sharply toward her son.
Her voice was cold.
Commanding.
"Prince Henry," she ordered. "Go. Quickly. Bring Princess Famoura. She is in the underground university."
Prince Henry did not waste a second.
He rushed downstairs.
His footsteps thundered through the staircase.
Moments later, he returned…
pulling Famoura along with him.
Famoura's eyes were wide.
Confused.
Her breath uneven.
Before she could even speak—
Princess Catherine ran forward.
And fell to her knees.
She clung to Famoura tightly, hugging her like she had found a lost treasure.
Famoura stood frozen.
"Mama…?" she whispered.
Then—
a calm, chilling voice echoed across the hall.
A voice that sounded like velvet hiding a knife.
"Will you not welcome me?"
The entire atmosphere turned deadly.
Famoura's body stiffened.
Everyone turned.
There, standing at the entrance of the royal hall…
was Queen Isabella.
Her black cloak dripped with rain.
Her crown gleamed like sharpened silver.
Her eyes held no warmth.
Only conquest.
King Francis stepped forward, his brows furrowed.
"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.
Queen Isabella smiled.
But it was not a warm smile.
It was the smile of a woman who had come to declare war.
"Do not even try to act innocent," she said softly.
Her voice carried power.
"I warned you."
She took a step forward.
"I warned you that I would bring war."
Every royal face turned toward Famoura.
The soldiers stared.
The nobles stared.
Even Prince Henry's gaze sharpened like a blade.
As if they were already searching for someone to blame.
Famoura's expression hardened instantly.
She stepped forward.
Her voice was sharp.
Fearless.
Filled with pride.
"Why are you all staring at me?"
Her chin lifted.
"If I had done something…"
Her eyes burned like fire.
"I would have screamed it aloud myself."
She pointed at her own chest.
"Trust me…"
Her voice lowered.
"…I did nothing."
The hall fell into silence.
A silence so sharp it could cut flesh.
Because everyone knew—
Famoura Felóenz was not lying.
She did not strike from behind.
She struck openly.
Like a storm.
And Queen Isabella…
had just arrived at the wrong castle…
to blame the wrong girl.