Back at the inn, Rowena could not sleep.
Not because of the strange sounds from outside, not because of the shadows gathering in the dark corners, but because of the book she was reading. Not the one given by Caspian—that one was still safely tucked in her bag, waiting to be read further. But another book, which she had borrowed from Lady Isolde before leaving the archives: The Hidden History of the Three Pillars, a thick manuscript written in an ancient language that, fortunately, she could read thanks to her knowledge from her previous life as an archaeologist.
The pages were filled with names, dates, and rituals that made her skin crawl.
"…and in the third year of King Aldric Ashworth's reign, the gate beneath the Duchy of Verlaine began to show signs of weakening. The High Priestess of Morana, a woman named Seraphina de Montfort (not to be confused with the current Crown Princess), performed a sacrifice ritual by offering her newborn twin child. The blood of the younger twin was spilled onto the altar, and the gate closed once more for three generations. This is a repeating pattern: every time the gate weakens, one twin child from the de Montfort family must die…"
Rowena closed the book sharply. Her palms were sweating.
So it was true. Everything Caspian had said—about the sacrifices, about the cycle, about how her family used the blood of their own children to keep the gate closed—was recorded here, in clear language without euphemisms.
She stared at her wrist. The Sigillum Dei Mortis pulsed faintly under the candlelight, and beside it, the Sleeping Eye—which was now fully open—glowed with a dim blue light. She had carried these symbols since the first day in this world, and only now was she beginning to understand what they meant.
You are the descendant of those sacrifices, she thought. Your blood, Celine's blood, is the same blood that has been spilled over and over to keep the gate closed. And now, you are the only one left.
She let out a long sigh, placed the book beside the bed, and stared at the ceiling. Kaelan was standing guard outside the door—he had insisted after the incident in Bromwich, even though this inn was much safer. Or at least, safer than the forest.
The door opened slowly. Kaelan entered with silent steps, his face serious.
"We have a visitor," he said in a low voice. "He came alone, wearing a black robe. He says he was sent by Duke Armand."
Rowena sat up on the bed, her hand reaching for the dagger under the pillow. "Do you trust him?"
"I don't trust anyone. But he knows the password that only Duke Armand and Lady Isolde know. And he knows about the key you carry."
"Send him in."
Kaelan nodded and stepped out. A few moments later, he returned with a tall, thin figure in a black robe. The robe covered almost his entire body, but from the way he moved—light, calculated, like a cat—Rowena could guess this was someone trained in the arts of combat.
When the hood was lowered, Rowena saw the face of a young woman with short black hair, sharp deep-green eyes, and a thin scar on her left cheek. She didn't recognize her, but there was something familiar about those eyes.
"Lady Celine," the woman said in a flat voice. "Or do you prefer to be called Rowena?"
"I prefer you use my name after you tell me who you are."
The woman smiled faintly. "My name is Rhea Ashworth. I am Duke Armand's stepsister. Don't be too impressed—we don't get along. But right now, we have the same enemy."
Rowena didn't show any reaction, but inside her head she immediately categorized the information. Stepsister of Duke Armand meant she was the daughter from the king's first marriage, before he married Duke Armand's mother. In royal tradition, children from the first marriage were often sidelined from the line of succession, but they still held influence and their own networks.
"What enemy do you mean?" Rowena asked.
Rhea sat down without being invited, a movement that showed she was not used to asking permission. "You just visited the secret archives, didn't you? You met Caspian. You obtained the true key." Her eyes stared directly at the pocket where Rowena kept the key. "You thought no one would know? In this palace, nothing is truly secret, Rowena. Information is a currency more valuable than gold, and I am one of its merchants."
Kaelan, standing near the door with his hand on the hilt of his sword, interrupted. "If you know all that, why didn't you report it to Duke Armand? Or try to take the key yourself?"
Rhea turned to him with an unreadable expression. "Knight Veyne. I've heard about you. The personal guard loyal unto death. But you are also the heir of House Veyne, aren't you? Or at least, you were. Before your father died."
Kaelan tensed. "What do you mean?"
"I'm just saying that we all have roles we didn't choose. I didn't choose to be the forgotten daughter of the first marriage. You didn't choose to be the second son without inheritance rights. And she," Rhea pointed at Rowena, "didn't choose to be a wandering soul trapped in a cycle of death and rebirth. But here we are."
She turned back to Rowena. "I'm here to tell you something Duke Armand won't tell you. About the factions in the palace. About who truly wants the gate opened. And about the threat already on its way here."
"What threat?" Rowena asked.
"From Verlaine. Your stepmother, Lady Mirabelle, has sent an envoy to the capital. Not to seek help, but to form an alliance. She is working with Lord Caspian Devereux—not the Caspian you met in the mirror, but the same name is a strange coincidence—a noble from House Devereux, a branch of House Ashworth that has long competed with Duke Armand. Both of them want the gate opened. They believe that behind the gate lies power that can make them rulers."
Rowena frowned. "They know about the gate?"
"They know more than they should. And they know about you, Rowena. They know you are not Celine. They know you hold the key to opening the gate. And they will not stop until they get it."
She pulled something from beneath her robe—a small, yellowed scroll. "This is a copy of the letter Lady Mirabelle sent to Lord Devereux. I obtained it from one of my agents at the palace post office. Read it."
Rowena took the scroll and opened it. The writing inside was neat, with measured and calculated letters—the handwriting of someone accustomed to political games.
"To Lord Caspian Devereux,
May this letter find you in good health. News from Verlaine: my stepdaughter, Lady Celine, has risen from death in an unnatural way. She is no longer the woman I once knew. There is something else inside her. Something connected to those mirrors. I am certain she is the key we have been searching for.
I sent three hunters to capture her, but they failed. She is stronger than I expected, and she is accompanied by Kaelan Veyne, whose loyalty to House de Montfort has blinded him to the truth.
I need your help in the capital. Prevent her from meeting Duke Armand. Or better yet, ensure she never leaves Ashford with that key. If the gate opens, I promise to share the power you seek.
With respect,
Lady Mirabelle de Montfort"
Rowena placed the letter on her lap, feeling ice crawl down her spine.
"So she sent those hunters," she said quietly. "Not to kill me. But to capture me."
"To capture you and take the key," Rhea corrected. "But they failed. And now, Lady Mirabelle knows you are more dangerous than she thought. She will not send hired hunters again. This time, she will send something more… subtle."
"Like what?"
Rhea smiled. A smile without humor. "Like an official envoy from the Duchy of Verlaine arriving in the capital to 'retrieve the Duke's ill daughter.' With official letters, with the family seal, and with enough escort to make it impossible for you to resist without causing a diplomatic scandal. She will use law and protocol to trap you, Rowena. And if that fails… she will use violence that cannot be traced back to her."
Kaelan stepped closer, his face dark. "When will this envoy arrive?"
"Tomorrow. Or the day after. Depending on the weather." Rhea stood. "I have told you what you need to know. Now, it is up to you to decide what you will do."
Rowena looked at her. "Why are you helping me? What do you gain from this?"
Rhea was silent for a moment. For the first time, her mask of indifference cracked, and Rowena saw something else in her eyes—something resembling weariness.
"Because I also know about the sacrifices, Rowena. About the twin children who were killed to keep the gate closed. About the blood that has been spilled over and over." She pulled up her sleeve, revealing her wrist. There, in the exact same place as the Sigillum Dei Mortis on Rowena's wrist, was a similar symbol—but not identical. It was an inverted triangle with a circle in the center, but the circle was empty.
"I am also a twin," Rhea said. "My older sister died on the altar when we were seven years old. I still remember her screams. I still remember her blood. And after that, the family decided I was unworthy of being the heir because I was 'defective'—I survived while my sister died. They said it was a sign that I was not blessed by Morana."
She lowered her sleeve. "I am not helping you because I am kind, Rowena. I am helping you because I want this system destroyed. I want no more twin children to die just because of a pact made thousands of years ago by people who are long dead. And you, with that key, with your knowledge, with what you carry inside you—you are the only one who can change it."
She walked toward the door, but stopped before leaving.
"One piece of advice: don't take too long to think about your choice. Because while you are thinking, those who want to open the gate will move. And those who want to close it forever in the old way—with sacrifice—will also move. You are in the middle of a storm, Rowena. And the storm is coming soon."
The door closed.
Rowena and Kaelan fell silent. Outside, the wind began to blow harder, carrying strange sounds from the streets of Ashford.
The next morning, Rowena woke with a firm decision.
"We will meet Duke Armand," she said to Kaelan as they ate simple bread and cheese for breakfast in the room. "But not at the palace. I don't want to meet in a place that can be watched by Lady Mirabelle or Lord Devereux."
Kaelan nodded. "Lady Isolde can arrange a meeting at her safe house. It's in the western district, far from the palace. But are you sure? Rhea said Duke Armand may not be entirely trustworthy."
"I don't trust him. But I need to know where he stands. Is he part of the sacrifice system that wants to keep everything as it is? Or does he truly want change? Until I know that, I cannot decide the next step."
They prepared to leave. Rowena wore a simpler gown—not a noble dress, but ordinary city woman's clothing, with a thick cloak to cover her striking golden-blonde hair. Kaelan removed his knight's uniform and changed into plain traveler's clothes, though nothing could hide his upright posture and the ever-watchful way he moved.
They left the inn as the sun was just rising. The streets of Ashford were already busy—merchants opening stalls, children running to school, nobles in luxurious carriages beginning to arrive at the palace for morning affairs. In the midst of the crowd, Rowena and Kaelan blended in easily, two ordinary people among hundreds of others.
But Rowena, with her continuously open Sleeping Eye, saw what others did not.
The shadows were still there. They gathered in dark corners, under bridges, in the gaps between buildings. But now, they were no longer still. They were moving. Slowly, deliberately, heading toward the palace.
And among those shadows, there were larger ones. Shapes that were almost solid, like humans made of thick darkness, with glowing red eyes where faces should be.
"Kael," Rowena whispered, tugging his arm. "Look over there. Under the bridge arch. Do you see something?"
Kaelan followed her gaze, frowning. "I don't see anything."
"Exactly. That's the problem." Rowena bit her lip. "They are there. And there are more of them. If this continues, in a few days they will be strong enough to… do something."
They quickened their pace.
Lady Isolde's safe house turned out to be an old bookstore in the western district, a place rarely visited because its collection was ancient and unappealing to ordinary readers. Inside, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves created a labyrinth of narrow corridors that smelled of old paper and candle wax.
Lady Isolde greeted them at the back door and led them through the book maze to a small room at the very back. In that room, Duke Armand was already waiting, along with Crown Princess Seraphina, who stood near the window with her arms crossed.
Duke Armand looked older than in their previous meeting. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his graying blond hair seemed thinner, more fragile. But his eyes remained sharp as he looked at Rowena.
"You survived," he said. "I heard you visited the archives. And you met… Caspian."
"I met him," Rowena said. "He told me many things. About the pact of the three siblings. About my nine lives. About the true key." She took out the old silver key from her pocket, showed it briefly, then put it away again. "And I also received information that there are factions in the palace who want the gate opened. Including Lady Mirabelle and Lord Caspian Devereux."
Seraphina let out a low whistle. "You work fast. We only learned about the letter last night, from Rhea."
Duke Armand sighed. "Rhea. I knew she would find you. She always moves faster than I want." He sat down, a gesture unusual for a duke in front of guests—a sign that he was tired, or that he wanted to show that protocol did not apply in this room.
"What did Rhea say about me?" he asked. "That I cannot be trusted? That I am part of the sacrifice system?"
He looked directly into Rowena's eyes.
"Because it is true. Or at least, it used to be true. I grew up knowing that every few generations, the de Montfort family must sacrifice a child to keep the gate closed. I knew it was terrible. But I also knew that without that sacrifice, the gate would open and something even more terrible would come out. Or at least, that is what I believed."
"And now?" Rowena asked.
"Now…" Duke Armand lowered his head, his hands gripping the arms of the chair tightly. "Now I no longer know. After Lord Aldric Veyne's death, after you 'died' and rose again, after Rhea showed me the records that had been hidden from the Duke… I began to question. Is the sacrifice truly necessary? Or is it just a way for our families to maintain power? Will the gate truly bring destruction, or is what lies behind it… a truth we do not want to see?"
Princess Seraphina, who had been silent, finally spoke. "Father, you don't have to carry all of this alone."
Duke Armand smiled bitterly. "I am the Duke of Ashworth, Seraphina. Carrying the burden alone is my duty."
"Your duty is to lead," Seraphina said firmly. "To lead means to trust others."
Rowena observed their interaction. There was an interesting dynamic here—Seraphina was more decisive than her father, more willing to take risks. While Duke Armand, behind his authority, seemed like a man tired of fighting a tradition thousands of years old.
"Your Grace," Rowena said, using the formal title for the first time, "I am not asking you to choose here and now. But I need to know: when the time comes, will you allow me to try to change this system? Or will you try to stop me to preserve the status quo?"
Duke Armand stared at her for a long time. Then, slowly, he took something from the pocket of his robe. A medallion— a golden medallion engraved with two dragons facing each other, the emblem of House Ashworth. But on the back of the medallion was another engraving: three interlocking circles, the same symbol as the Anima Triformis in Rowena's palm.
"This is the medallion given by the first king of Ashvold to his three children," Duke Armand said. "The symbol of their pact with Morana. For thousands of years, this medallion has been held by the head of House Ashworth as a symbol of authority. But I no longer want to hold it. I do not want to be part of a system that kills children."
He placed the medallion on the table between them.
"I do not know if you are the answer, Rowena. But I know that this system can no longer be sustained. If you have a way to change it, to end this cycle of sacrifice… I will support you. Not as the Duke. But as a man who has kept his eyes closed for too long."
Seraphina looked at her father with a surprised expression. "Father, are you sure?"
"I have not been sure of anything for a long time, Seraphina. But for the first time in years, I feel that perhaps, just perhaps, there is another way. And I will not let my fear stand in the way of that path."
Rowena picked up the medallion. The metal felt warm in her hand, and she could sense something pulsing inside it—the same energy that existed in the mirrors.
"Thank you, Your Grace," she said. "I will not waste your trust."
Duke Armand nodded. "Now, about the envoy from Verlaine. They will arrive today. I have ordered them to be detained at the gate until I give permission. But I cannot hold them forever without a clear reason. You have perhaps one or two days before they begin to apply pressure."
"One or two days," Rowena repeated. "That might be enough."
"For what?"
Rowena looked at the silver key in her hand. "To decide whether I will use this or not."
They returned to the inn as the sun began to slant westward. The streets of Ashford were still busy, but Rowena could feel the tension in the air—something that could not be explained in words, but was as real as the pressure before a storm.
The shadows were increasing. And they were no longer hiding in dark corners. Some had grown bold enough to step out onto sunlit streets, moving among the feet of passersby without anyone noticing. One shadow even clung briefly to the heel of an old woman walking by, following her steps like a loyal dog, before detaching and joining its companions under a bridge.
Kaelan gripped her hand tightly. "We have to do something. If this continues, in a few days the entire city will be filled with them."
"I know," Rowena said. "But I still don't know what to do."
They were just about to enter the alley leading to the inn when Kaelan suddenly pulled her back, turning her so her back was against the wall, his body becoming a shield in front of her.
"Someone is following us," he whispered.
Rowena peeked from behind his shoulder. At the end of the alley, a man in a gray robe stood motionless, staring in their direction. His face was not clearly visible because the hood covered most of it, but from his posture, he was clearly not an ordinary person. He was too upright, too still, too… present.
Kaelan drew his sword. "Come out of the shadows, or I will make you come out."
The man did not move. But his voice was heard—deep, heavy, with an accent Rowena did not recognize.
"I am not here to harm you, Lady Celine. Or Rowena. Or whoever you are now. I am here to give a warning."
"What warning?"
"Do not use that key."
Rowena tensed. "Who are you?"
The man lowered his hood. The face beneath was that of a middle-aged man, with black hair beginning to gray at the temples, deep brown eyes, and a long scar across his right cheek—a scar shaped like the Sigillum Dei Mortis.
"I am Edric Veyne," he said. "Kaelan's uncle. Brother of Lord Aldric Veyne. And I am the only one who survived the attempt to open the gate thirty years ago."
Kaelan was shocked. "Uncle Edric? You… you were reported dead in a hunting accident. Before I was born."
"The news of my death was deliberately spread," Edric said. "Because I knew something I was not supposed to know. And because I chose to live in the shadows rather than let them kill me."
He stepped closer, and Rowena could see that his eyes… were different. One eye was deep brown, normal. But the other… was silver, with a vertical pupil like a snake's or cat's eye, and inside it was a slowly moving swirl of light.
"What happened to your eye?" Rowena asked.
Edric smiled bitterly. "This is the price I paid for looking into the mirror. Thirty years ago, I participated in a ritual that was supposed to open the gate. We believed that behind the gate lay freedom. But we were wrong. What came out was not freedom. It was… something older, hungrier, and smarter than us. The ritual failed. Most of us died. And I… I survived, but with this eye. An eye that can see what should not be seen."
He looked at Rowena with that strange silver eye.
"Do you know what I see with this eye, Rowena? I see your nine lives. I see every one of your deaths. I see Kaelan dying beside you again and again. And I see that every time you use that key—the key you now hold—you never succeed. You always fail. And every failure makes the gate weaker, closer to opening."
Rowena felt her chest tighten. "You're lying. Caspian said the key would reunite my soul."
"Caspian," Edric hissed, and for the first time there was anger in his voice. "Caspian is part of the problem, Rowena. He is also trapped there. And he also wants to be free. But his freedom will not free you. It will only free him. And after he is free, everything behind that gate will also be free."
He stepped closer, and Kaelan immediately blocked him with his sword drawn.
"Uncle," Kaelan said coldly, "I don't know what happened to you thirty years ago. But if you come near Rowena, I will not hesitate."
Edric stopped. His strange eyes shifted from Rowena to Kaelan, and for a moment, there was something resembling sadness in them.
"You are just like your father, Kaelan. Loyal unto death. But your loyalty will kill you. Just as it has happened many times before."
He took a step back.
"I will not force you to believe me now. But remember my warning: do not use that key. Find another way. Because if you use that key, you will not only destroy yourself. You will destroy everything you love."
He stepped back into the shadows of the alley, and before Rowena could say anything, he vanished. Like mist blown by the wind, he dissolved into the darkness, leaving the two of them in the quiet alley.
Kaelan lowered his sword, his face pale. "I didn't know my uncle was still alive. I thought he died before I was born."
"Why did they lie?"
"House Veyne has many secrets. I never knew all of them. I was the second son, remember? I didn't need to know."
Rowena took his hand. "Kael, do you believe what he said?"
Kaelan was silent for a moment. "I don't know. But one thing I do know: he didn't look like a sane man. His eyes… there is something wrong with his eyes. Perhaps what he saw in the mirror changed him. Perhaps he can no longer distinguish truth from lies."
"Or perhaps he is the only one telling the truth," Rowena said softly. "And everyone else—Caspian, Duke Armand, even perhaps Rhea—is manipulating me for their own purposes."
They both fell silent, feeling the weight of the burden on their shoulders.
In the distance, from the direction of the city gate, the sound of trumpets could be heard—the sign that an official delegation was entering Ashford. The envoy from Verlaine had arrived.
And under the bridge, the shadows began to move faster, gathering at one point, forming something larger, denser, more… aware.
The storm was getting closer.
That night, Rowena could not sleep again.
She sat on the bed with her notebook on her lap, writing and crossing out, trying to organize all the information she had received. Too many versions. Too many conflicting claims.
Caspian said: the key would reunite her soul and free her.
Edric said: the key would destroy everything.
Duke Armand said: he would support whatever she chose.
Rhea said: this system must be destroyed, no matter the risk.
Lady Mirabelle said: (through her letter) she wanted the gate opened for power.
And in the middle of it all, there were the growing shadows, the weakening gate, and time running out.
She stared at the silver key in her palm. Under the candlelight, the metal gleamed with shifting colors—silver, blue, gold, red—like a rainbow trapped in such a small object.
"You are the answer," she whispered to the key. "Or you are the end of everything. I no longer know."
The door opened slowly. Kaelan entered with quiet steps, carrying two cups of warm tea. He sat on the next bed without speaking and handed one cup to Rowena.
They drank the tea in silence. The tea was warm, slightly bitter, with a soothing lavender aroma.
"I no longer know what is true," Rowena said at last. "Everyone has their own version. And every version makes me look like a pawn in a larger game."
Kaelan looked at her. "Maybe you are a pawn. But a pawn can become a queen if it reaches the end of the board."
Rowena smiled bitterly. "You read chess books?"
"I read one once in the library. I didn't understand much. But that sentence stuck with me."
They laughed softly, and for a moment, the burden felt lighter.
"Kael," Rowena said before sleep, "what will you do if I decide to use this key? Even if it's risky?"
Kaelan didn't answer immediately. He stared at his teacup, turning it between his large fingers.
"I will be by your side," he said finally. "Just as I always have. Not because I believe it is the right choice. But because I believe in you. And whatever happens, I will not leave you."
Rowena felt tears welling in her eyes. "You know, in my previous life, you always died beside me."
"Not this time."
"You can't promise that."
"I can," Kaelan said, looking at her with deep, serious gray eyes. "I can because this time, I know. I know what is at stake. I know what might happen. And I will not let history repeat itself. I will not let you die alone, and I will not die and leave you alone."
He took her hand. His touch was warm, strong, and steady.
"We will find another way, Rowena. Not the one offered by Caspian. Not the one warned about by my uncle. But our own way. A way no one has ever tried before."
Rowena looked at him. "You really have no common sense, Kaelan Veyne."
"I already told you. I choose not to use it."
They both smiled. And in the dark night, in the small inn in the capital filled with shadows and threats, for the first time in nine lives, Rowena felt something she had never felt before.
Hope.
Not hope that everything would end well. But hope that, perhaps, for the first time, she was not alone in facing this.
"Tomorrow," she said, "we will find out about that other way. About what no one has ever tried. There is something Edric said—that the ritual thirty years ago failed. But why did it fail? Maybe the answer is there."
Kaelan nodded. "I will find out where my uncle lives. If he is still in Ashford, we can meet him again. This time, we will listen more carefully."
They both fell silent for a moment, enjoying the strangely comfortable quiet.
"Kael," Rowena whispered before sleep.
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For being here."
Kaelan did not answer with words. But under the dim candlelight, Rowena saw his smile—the same smile from the first time he saw her in Celine's bed. Warm. Gentle. Awkward.
And for the first time, she realized that smile might be the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her nine lives.