Psyche

The halls of the Duke's mansion stretched endlessly before her, familiar and yet suffocating. The weight of her steps felt heavier than they should, her body moving on instinct even as her mind reeled.

The words still echoed in her skull.

"Lady Aeliana has returned... And she is cured, apparently."

Cured.

Her fingers clenched into the fabric of her sleeve, nails digging into her palm. Her breath came uneven, the faintest tremor running down her spine as she struggled to process the reality laid before her.

How?

For years—years—they had tried everything. Healers. Enchanters. Forbidden spells. Rare elixirs.

Nothing had worked.

And yet now, as if the gods themselves had decided to mock her, Aeliana had returned—whole, untouched by her illness.

It didn't make sense.

It couldn't make sense.