Royal palace

Elle remained where she was, her body trembling, her heart pounding as if it wanted to break free from her chest. Slowly, she opened her eyes, staring at the dirt beneath her, her mind a storm of fear, confusion, and determination.

The guards stepped forward hesitantly. One of them extended a hand to help Elle to her feet, but as if suddenly repelled by some unseen force, he stopped mid-action. His eyes darted nervously, and he took a step back, creating a noticeable distance between them.

Elle, who was nearly upright, froze in place. A chill ran down her spine, and her chest tightened as she noticed the shift in their behavior. What's going on? Her burning eyes filled with tears that she stubbornly refused to let fall.

"Miss, are you alright?" one of the guards asked, his voice unusually soft yet distant.

Elle nodded, but the motion felt hollow. No, I'm not alright. Not even close. Her mind screamed for solitude, a desperate need to make sense of everything. This place... this world... What is this?

The guard nodded back, his posture rigid. "Let's go, then. Please, climb into the carriage," he said, his tone more formal now, as if he couldn't wait to rid himself of her presence.

He placed a stool by the carriage door, avoiding her gaze as if looking at her was forbidden. Elle hesitated but climbed aboard, her movements slow and unsteady. Once seated, the carriage lurched forward, the creak of its wheels echoing down the eerily empty street.

She leaned against the window, her eyes drawn to the dying light of the sun as it dipped lower, painting the sky in hues of orange and crimson. Soon, the darkness would claim the world, and with it, Elle feared, any semblance of clarity.

A cold breeze slipped through the slight crack in the window, teasing her reddish hair away from her face. She closed her eyes, the wind's chill a sharp contrast to the warmth of the tears that slid silently down her cheeks.

Her heart ached, not just from the fresh scrapes on her knees and palms but from wounds far deeper—ones she thought had healed long ago. Now, they resurfaced, raw and consuming, tearing at her very sense of self.

Her hands clutched the hem of her dress tightly as if grounding herself to something tangible would stop her thoughts from spiraling further. I need to figure this world out. I need to understand what's happening. Before it consumes me entirely.

Why am I here? The question echoed in Elle's mind like a drumbeat. And even if I am, why is he here?

Her breath hitched as her thoughts spiraled uncontrollably. He's just a character, isn't he? Just paper and ink brought to life in my imagination. Then why does he feel so real? Her chest tightened, the impact of Halcyon's gaze, his voice, and his barely-there touch lingering like a haunting melody.

This is the novel I wrote… isn't it? But how is this even possible? How could I be here? Her trembling hands clutched the folds of her dress. She glanced down at herself, the unfamiliar fabric, the strange body she now inhabited. And this character, the one I'm playing now—I didn't even write her. Who is she? A chill ran down her spine as the darker thought crept in. Who am I?

Her mind raced as she tried to piece together the impossible puzzle. Is Halcyon… real? The notion struck her like lightning. Has he been transmitted here, just like me? Or is he still just a character?

She replayed the moment in her head—the intensity of his blood-red eyes, the way his thumb grazed her chin like a fleeting spark. No... that wasn't the touch of a character. That was real, too real.

The more she thought, the more suffocated she felt. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, slipping down her flushed cheeks. Her chest heaved with silent sobs, her body trembling from the weight of her questions. Her exhaustion caught up with her; her eyes grew heavy and her thoughts blurred into incoherence.

As her body surrendered to sleep, the carriage rocked gently along the uneven road. The cold night air seeped through the cracks in the carriage, cooling the warmth of her tear-streaked face.

When the carriage finally came to a halt, the clatter of hooves and the creak of the wheels silenced. The stillness was deafening. Elle stirred from her fitful sleep, her body sluggish and aching.

The door creaked open, and a guard's voice broke the silence. "We've arrived at the royal palace."

Elle blinked, her surroundings a hazy blur. The moon hung high in the ink-black sky, casting an ethereal glow over the grand structure before her. Midnight had long passed, and yet, the night's mysteries had only just begun.

Elle stepped down from the carriage, her foot hesitant as it met the stone path. The royal castle loomed above her, its towering spires piercing the night sky like jagged blades. The sheer size of it dwarfed her, its presence whispering a chilling promise: This place will strip your very soul bare.

Her eyes darted around, taking in her surroundings. The road leading to the castle was lined with wrought-iron poles, each holding lanterns that barely illuminated the path with their dim, flickering light. Shadows danced in the periphery, stretching like skeletal fingers toward her.

As her gaze rose to the top of the towering structure, her breath hitched. There, high above, a figure stood—a shadow silhouetted against the pale moonlight. It didn't move, yet its presence commanded her attention. Her heart thudded in her chest as though that distant form held her captive.

"Miss, this way, please," a guard's voice broke through the haze of her thoughts.

Elle blinked, tearing her eyes from the figure as if waking from a trance. She gave a quick nod, swallowing the lump in her throat, and followed the guard toward the castle's entrance.

Every step felt heavier than the last, her legs dragging as though the path itself resisted her. I'm walking straight into my own downfall, she thought bitterly. But what choice did she have? She couldn't run. Even if she tried and succeeded, where would she go? This world was as alien as the very body she inhabited.

After what felt like an eternity of winding paths and towering stone walls, the guard stopped. Elle's eyes flickered to her surroundings. They stood before a massive arched entrance, framed by ornate iron doors that seemed to breathe malice.

Four guards stood stationed at the entrance, their faces blank yet imposing. Each held a sword unsheathed, the steel glinting faintly in the lantern light. Their eyes, however, were what unnerved her most—glowing an eerie red, as if lit from within by some unholy fire.

Elle froze, confusion and dread swirling in her mind. What is this place? And why do their eyes… look like that?

The lead guard gestured toward the doors, which groaned as they began to open, revealing the ominous interior beyond. Elle's breath quickened, the weight of her unease pressing harder with each passing moment.

"His Highness asked me to set this lady in his wing," said the guard, bowing respectfully to his companion.

Before the prince's guards could respond, a voice cut through the air like a blade. "Very well, Dorn. You can go now. I'll handle it from here," commanded Butler Caspian Joff, his tone firm and unyielding.

The butler's gaze landed on Elle, sharp and scrutinizing, as though peeling back layers to uncover the truth beneath her appearance. His eyes roved over her features—reddish-brown hair, dark blue eyes that still sparkled despite the fear within, and faint acne scars scattered across her cheeks. To him, she looked unremarkable, ordinary. Yet his gaze lingered, narrowing in suspicion. What was it about her? He couldn't fathom why the crown prince had been so fixated on finding her for months.