They spent the rest of the night inside the hollow tree.
Rowena didn't dare step outside. The hunting dogs might have left, but something else was in that forest—something that had arrived together with the red light from the direction of Verlaine. She could feel it with her newly opened Sleeping Eye: a heavy presence, like the pressure in the air before a storm, but denser, more alive.
Kaelan sat leaning against the damp wooden wall, his sword drawn across his lap, his eyes never leaving the gap at the entrance. For hours they remained silent, listening to the sounds of the forest outside—and for a long time, the forest was quiet. No birds, no insects, no wind. Only a thick silence, as if something was holding its breath.
Only as dawn approached, when the sky began to turn pale gray between the trees, did the silence break. A bird chirped in the distance. Then another. Then the wind began to blow again, carrying the scent of wet soil and falling leaves.
The presence was gone.
Kaelan let out a long breath, his tense body slowly relaxing. "What was that last night?"
"I don't know," Rowena answered honestly. The small mirror in her hand still pulsed with a soft blue light, but its intensity had dropped drastically. Now it only glowed faintly, like embers about to die. "But Morana warned me. The gate is starting to open. And someone is searching for it."
"Was that what we felt last night? Something that came out of the gate?"
Rowena closed her eyes, trying to recall the sensation she had felt with her Sleeping Eye. The presence had been heavy, dark, and… hungry. Like something that had not eaten for a very long time.
"Not something that came out," she said finally. "But something that was peering in. Like… like a hand reaching through a half-open door, searching for what it could grasp."
Kaelan gripped the hilt of his sword tighter. His face looked pale in the faint dawn light filtering through the gaps in the roots.
"My father," he said slowly. "Before he died, he said something was watching him from behind the mirror. Something that called his name. Something that… offered him something." He looked at Rowena. "What did Morana offer you?"
Rowena held the small mirror in both palms. Its deep blue surface moved slowly, like a miniature ocean trapped within a frame of roots.
"She didn't offer me anything," she said. "She told me I had a choice. To keep the gate closed, or to open it. And if I opened it, there would be a price to pay. The people I love would not survive."
Kaelan was silent for a moment. "You were thinking about me."
It wasn't a question. Rowena didn't deny it.
"You're the only person in this world I trust," she said. "That makes you valuable. And that makes you a target."
"You think Morana would hurt me to force you?"
"I don't know what Morana would do. I don't even know if I can trust her words. But one thing I do know: she isn't telling me everything. She's hiding something."
Kaelan nodded slowly. "All right. Then we'll find out for ourselves. In the capital, in the Ashworth family archives. Just like the original plan."
Rowena smiled faintly. "You're not afraid?"
"I'm terrified," Kaelan said honestly. "But that won't stop me."
They both fell silent, absorbing his words. Outside, the sun was rising, and golden rays pierced through the gaps in the trees, creating patterns of light on the damp ground.
"We should go," Kaelan said at last. "Orin can no longer be trusted. Whether he's a traitor or he was captured, we can't go back to Thornwood. But there's another village about half a day's journey to the east. We can buy horses there."
"Without money?"
Kaelan pulled out a small pouch from beneath his coat. "I always carry reserves. A habit from a knight who once lost all his money because his pouch was pickpocketed in a port city."
Rowena almost laughed. The image of Kaelan Veyne—the handsome knight with a stone face—becoming a victim of a pickpocket was too absurd not to be funny.
"Let's go," she said, standing up and feeling her legs slightly numb after hours of sitting on the ground.
Before leaving, she looked at the small mirror in her hand one last time. Its blue surface shifted, and for a moment she saw the three faces again—Celine, Morana, herself—before they all vanished, leaving only her own reflection.
She slipped the mirror into the pocket beneath her belt, next to the silver key from Duke Armand.
"We will find the answers," she whispered to the mirror, to Morana, to herself. "But on my terms. Not yours."
The mirror pulsed once, then fell silent.
The journey eastward was harder than they had expected.
The forest in this area was nothing like the well-maintained woods around Verlaine that were frequently traveled. This was an ancient forest rarely touched by humans, with massive trees whose roots sprawled everywhere like giant snakes, and thorny bushes growing so densely that they had to circle back multiple times to find a passable path.
Kaelan led the way, using a long knife to clear the path, while Rowena followed behind with her coat already torn in several places from catching on thorns. Her good boots—Kaelan's gift, supposedly waterproof—proved useful when they had to cross several small streams with cold, clear water.
They didn't speak much. Kaelan because he was too focused on the path ahead and constantly scanning their surroundings for signs of danger. Rowena because she was too busy observing her new world with the still-unfamiliar Sleeping Eye.
The ability was… strange.
She couldn't activate it at will. Sometimes, suddenly, the world around her would turn into a map of light—trees glowing with golden-green hues, streams sparkling silver-blue, and the trails of small animals appearing as faint red dots moving through the bushes. But after a few seconds, everything would return to normal, and she would feel dizzy, as if she had been holding her breath for too long.
"It's like a muscle that has never been trained," she muttered to herself. "The more it's used, the stronger it gets."
"You're talking to yourself again," Kaelan said from ahead without turning around.
"I'm an academic. We all talk to ourselves. It's how we think."
"At the magic academy, they say mages who talk to themselves are on their way to going mad."
"I'm not a mage."
"Not yet."
Rowena frowned. "What do you mean 'not yet'?"
Kaelan paused briefly, cutting through a thorny branch blocking the path, then continued. "You have a symbol on your wrist. You can see things others cannot. You have a mirror that can hide you from hunters. And you speak with a goddess in your dreams. If that's not the making of a mage, I don't know what is."
"I didn't ask for any of this."
"I didn't ask to become a knight either," Kaelan said. "But sometimes, all we can do is accept what we're given and try to be the best within it."
Rowena fell silent, pondering his words. For someone often accused of having no common sense, Kaelan sometimes said remarkably wise things.
"Maybe you should have been a philosopher, not a knight," she said.
"I tried reading a philosophy book once. I fell asleep on the third page."
Rowena laughed. The laughter came out unintentionally, and for a moment, in the middle of a silent and threatening forest, it felt like a little light had entered.
Kaelan turned, and for the first time since that night, he smiled. Not his usual awkward or bitter smile, but a genuine one—warm, slightly tired, but sincere.
"That's the first time I've heard you laugh," he said. "Celine rarely laughed."
"I used to laugh a lot," Rowena said, and for a moment she imagined herself in Oxford, laughing with her research colleagues at the pub after a long day in the library. "In my previous life."
"Tell me about your previous life."
Rowena walked behind him, thinking where to begin. "I was an academic. I studied dead things. Ancient artifacts, manuscripts, ruined buildings. I spent years in libraries and in the field, digging in the dirt to find something buried for centuries."
"It sounds boring."
"It was very boring. And that's what I liked about it." She smiled at the memory. "Nothing tried to kill you. No one tried to stab you with a dagger. No goddess appeared in your dreams telling you that you were the key to opening a gate to the world's destruction. There were only books, tea, and old dust."
Kaelan snorted. "I can't imagine living like that."
"You wouldn't like it. You're too… active."
"Active?"
"You can't sit still for more than five minutes. Your eyes are always moving, looking for threats. Your hand is always near your sword. You're someone who lives to act, not to contemplate."
Kaelan stopped, turning to look at her with a strange expression. "You've only known me for a few days. Yet you already understand me better than most people who have known me for years."
"It's because I'm trained to observe," Rowena said. "An archaeologist has to notice the small details others miss. That skill is useful here too."
They walked in silence for a while. Then Kaelan spoke, his voice low and almost inaudible:
"I'm glad you're here, Rowena."
Rowena felt something warm in her chest. Not Celine's lingering feelings this time—she was sure it was her own.
"So am I," she said.
They reached the village of Bromwich when the sun was directly overhead.
The village was small, even smaller than Thornwood, just a cluster of wooden houses around the intersection of two dirt paths. But at least there was an inn, and at that inn there were people they could ask about horses.
Kaelan chose not to draw attention. They entered the inn quietly, ordered two bowls of soup and bread, and sat in an inconspicuous corner. Rowena kept her hood partially covering her face, while Kaelan sat in his usual position—back to the wall, his gaze covering the entire room.
The inn was almost empty. Only two other people were there: an old man sleeping with his head on his arm, and a middle-aged woman cleaning glasses behind the bar.
The innkeeper, a stout man with a dirty apron, approached them with a friendly smile. "What can I do for you, sir?"
"We need two horses," Kaelan said. "Strong horses, suitable for a long journey. And information about the road to the capital."
The innkeeper frowned. "Horses we have. But the road to the capital… it's not very safe lately, sir. Lots of bandits. And there are also… strange things people have been reporting."
"What kind of strange things?"
The innkeeper leaned down, lowering his voice. "People say there are shadows moving at night. Shadows without owners. Some farmers coming home late at night have seen them. They say the shadows… enter houses. And the next morning, the people inside don't remember anything. As if something has erased their memories."
Rowena and Kaelan exchanged glances.
"Since when has this been happening?" Rowena asked.
"Since about a week ago. Right after… after Lord Veyne's death." The innkeeper made a protective sign with his fingers—a gesture Rowena didn't recognize, but it looked like a small prayer or ritual. "House Veyne was the protector of this region. Since Lord Veyne died, everything has gone to chaos. No one dares go out at night."
Kaelan clenched his fist under the table. Rowena could see the veins in his neck tighten.
"We'll still go," Kaelan said flatly. "Prepare the horses. We'll leave after we eat."
The innkeeper nodded and left, leaving the two of them alone.
Rowena looked at Kaelan. "Are you all right?"
"My father," he said, his voice hoarse. "He was the protector of this region. While he lived, no one dared disturb the villages here. And after he died…" He didn't finish.
"You feel guilty."
"I should have been there. I should have become the heir of House Veyne and taken over his responsibilities. But I chose to stay in Verlaine. With Celine."
Rowena reached for his hand under the table. "You can't be in two places at once, Kael. You chose to protect someone you loved. That's not a mistake."
"He was someone I loved too," Kaelan said. His eyes were red, but there were no tears. "And now he's dead, and I don't even know what killed him. I can't take revenge because I don't know who the enemy is. I can only… walk here, with you, searching for answers I might never find."
Rowena squeezed his hand tighter. "We will find the answers. I promise."
Kaelan looked at her. "You can't promise that. You don't know what we're facing."
"Maybe not. But I'm a very stubborn person. When I make a promise, I keep it. That's one of the few things I'm proud of about myself."
Kaelan smiled faintly. "You and Celine are the same in that way. She was stubborn too. Once she insisted on joining archery practice even though she had a fever, and ended up fainting in the field. I had to carry her back to the palace. The Duke was furious."
"What did you do?"
"I got scolded too. But I didn't regret it. I'd rather be scolded than see her lying sick alone."
Rowena imagined the scene—young Kaelan carrying the unconscious Celine, walking through the palace garden with a panicked expression on his handsome face. Even though the situation was serious, there was something touching about it.
"You loved her," she said. It wasn't a question.
Kaelan didn't answer for a moment. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"I loved her from the first time I saw her. I was fifteen, she was thirteen. She was standing on the palace balcony, wearing a blue dress, staring at the rain with an expression that… was lonely. From that moment, I knew I would do anything for her."
He looked at Rowena with unreadable eyes.
"But she never saw me that way. To her, I was just her knight-guard. A friend. Maybe… maybe that was for the best. I was never anyone important. The second son of House Veyne, without inheritance rights, without a title, without anything except my sword and my oath."
"What makes you think that titles and inheritance are the only things that make someone worthy of love?"
Kaelan looked surprised. "In this world… that's everything."
"In my old world too," Rowena said. "But I've seen too many rich people die lonely and poor people die surrounded by those who love them. Titles don't buy loyalty. Inheritance doesn't buy happiness. The only thing that truly matters is the connection between people. And you, Kaelan Veyne, have more of that than most nobles I've known."
Kaelan stared at her for a long time. Then, for the first time, Rowena saw something new in his eyes—not sadness, not devotion, but something warmer, deeper, more… personal.
"Thank you," he said softly.
They ate in silence after that, but it was a different kind of silence. Not awkward or tense, but comfortable—like two people who had known each other long enough that they didn't need to fill every quiet moment with words.
They left Bromwich with two brown horses that weren't particularly fine but strong enough for the two-day journey to the capital. Kaelan decided to avoid the main road, which had been reported as unsafe, and chose a detour through small plantations on the outskirts.
Traveling on horseback was much faster than by carriage, but also more exhausting. Rowena's body—Celine's body—was not used to long rides, and after several hours, the muscles in her thighs and back began to ache.
"We'll stop at the river ahead," Kaelan said after noticing Rowena constantly shifting uncomfortably on her horse. "You need rest."
"I'm fine."
"You're moving like someone who's about to fall off the horse in ten minutes. Stop."
Rowena wanted to argue, but the pain was real enough. She followed Kaelan to the edge of a small river, dismounted with shaky legs, and sat on a large rock while catching her breath.
Kaelan tied the two horses to a nearby tree, then returned with a bottle of water and a piece of dry bread. "Eat. Drink. We'll rest for one hour."
Rowena accepted the bread even though she wasn't hungry. Her stomach felt nauseous from exhaustion, but she knew she had to eat.
"You know," she said while chewing the hard bread, "in my previous life, I never imagined myself becoming a female knight. I was more the type to sit in a library."
"But now you're here."
"Now I'm here. With a symbol on my wrist, a mirror in my pocket, and a handsome knight forcing me to eat dry bread by a river."
Kaelan smiled faintly. "You think I'm handsome?"
"You know you're handsome. You don't need me to tell you."
"But it's nice to hear it from someone honest."
Rowena laughed again. "You really have no common sense, Kaelan Veyne. In the middle of a journey to save the world, you still have time to flirt."
"I'm not flirting. I'm just stating facts."
"Sure. Facts."
They both laughed, and for a moment, the burden on their shoulders felt lighter.
But that happiness didn't last long.
Rowena felt it first—the strange throb in her wrist where the Sleeping Eye symbol was. Then she saw it with her open eye: across the river, among the trees, something was moving.
Not an animal. Not a human.
It was a shadow. A shadow moving on its own, without a body to cast it. Its shape was like a human, but too thin, too long, with arms that stretched almost to the ground. The shadow moved between the trees with unnatural motion, like cloth blown by the wind but still holding form.
Kaelan saw it too. His hand went straight to his sword.
"What is that?" Rowena whispered.
"I don't know. But it's not something good."
The shadow stopped. As if it had heard their voices. For a moment, it stood still between two trees, staring at them—even though it had no eyes, Rowena knew it was looking.
Then, the shadow moved.
Not toward them. But in another direction, following the river, disappearing around the bend with a speed impossible to chase.
Kaelan only breathed again after the shadow had completely vanished.
"That's one of the things the innkeeper mentioned," he said. "Shadows that move at night. But it's still daytime."
"The sun is almost setting," Rowena said, looking at the sky turning orange. "Maybe they can move at dusk. Or maybe… maybe they're getting stronger. There are more of them."
She reached for the small mirror in her pocket. Its blue surface pulsed faster than before, like a panicked heartbeat.
"Morana said the gate is starting to open," she said. "Maybe this is one of the consequences. Something is beginning to leak from the Second Layer."
Kaelan stood, sword still drawn. "We need to reach the capital quickly. If things like this are starting to appear in the countryside, in a few weeks they'll reach the major cities. And if they reach the capital…"
He didn't need to finish the sentence. Rowena could imagine it: panic, chaos, collapse. The Kingdom of Ashvold was not prepared for a threat like this. No one was.
"Let's go," Rowena said, standing despite the pain in her legs. "There's no time to rest."
They arrived in the capital, Ashford, on the second night.
The city was magnificent—even more magnificent than Rowena had imagined. City walls twenty meters high towered before them, made of polished gray stone, with guard towers every hundred paces. The main gate was a massive arch carved with two dragons facing each other—the emblem of House Ashworth—and above it flew the kingdom's gold and deep blue banners.
But behind the grandeur, Rowena could see something else. With her occasionally flickering Sleeping Eye, she saw small cracks in the walls—not physical cracks, but cracks in the magical spectrum, like tiny gaps where something could slip through. She saw strange shadows in dark corners, too dark for this hour. She saw people walking on the streets with… something… clinging to their shoulders. Something invisible to ordinary eyes.
The capital was sick. And most people didn't realize it.
Kaelan took them to an inn in the eastern district, a place he said was safe. The inn was small, run by an old woman named Marta who immediately hugged Kaelan when she saw him—as if she had known him for a long time.
"Sir Kaelan! It's been so long since I last saw you!" Marta exclaimed, her eyes misty. "We all heard about Lord Aldric. I… I'm so sorry."
"Thank you, Marta," Kaelan said gently. "I need a room for two. And I need you not to tell anyone we're here."
Marta nodded in understanding. Her eyes flicked briefly to Rowena, then back to Kaelan. "I understand. The top room at the very end. No one will disturb you."
They went up to their room—a small room with two beds, a table, and a window overlooking a quiet back street. After the door closed, Kaelan immediately checked every corner, a habit that had become reflex.
"We'll go to the palace tomorrow morning," he said. "But we have to be careful. House Ashworth has many eyes and ears. And after what happened to House Veyne and de Montfort, they're likely already on alert."
"Do you trust Duke Armand?" Rowena asked.
Kaelan thought for a moment. "I trust that he wants to protect his kingdom. But that doesn't mean he'll protect us. He's a politician, Rowena. And politicians will do anything to achieve their goals."
Rowena nodded. "So we come with information, but we don't give everything. We'll see what he knows first, then decide how much we'll share."
Kaelan smiled faintly. "You really are trained for this."
"Academics are politicians too, Kael. Just with more complicated jargon and smaller salaries."
That night, Rowena couldn't sleep. She lay on her bed, staring at the cracked wooden ceiling, listening to the sounds of the city outside. The capital never truly slept—there were sounds of carriages, footsteps, people laughing or arguing in the distance. But among all those sounds, there was another that only she could hear with her open Sleeping Eye.
Whispers.
Whispers from cracks in the walls. Whispers from shadows in dark corners. Whispers from something clinging to people's shoulders.
"Open…"
"Open the gate…"
"She is waiting…"
Rowena squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the voices. But the voices were inside her head, not outside.
"You can hear me, Rowena Ashworth."
It wasn't Morana's voice. This was another voice, deeper, heavier, like the rumble of a distant landslide.
"You can hear me because you have started to open your eyes. And because you have opened your eyes, I can see you. I have waited a long time, Rowena. Since before you were born in your first world. Since before this world existed. I have been waiting."
"Who are you?" Rowena whispered, her lips barely moving.
"You will know. In time. But for now… enjoy your time in the capital, Rowena. Visit the archives. Study its history. Because soon, all of it will burn. And you will choose. Just as you always have. Just as you always have in every life."
Rowena opened her eyes with a gasp.
Kaelan was already sitting on the next bed, sword in hand, watching her warily. "What is it?"
"I heard something," Rowena said, her voice trembling. "Not Morana. Something else. Something older. It… it spoke as if it knew me. As if I had lived many times before."
Kaelan moved closer, sitting on the edge of her bed. "You think it's what's inside the gate?"
"I don't know. But it said everything will burn. And I have to choose. Just as I always have in every life."
They both fell silent, imagining what that meant.
Outside the window, the blue moon and the red moon shone over the capital of Ashford. And in their light, the shadows in the dark corners moved slowly, inching closer toward the palace.