Whispers

After fleeing from the Crown Prince's study, Elle wandered aimlessly through the vast corridors of the palace. Her chest felt unbearably tight, and her vision blurred with unshed tears. Seeing him—the man she had once loved so fiercely—standing before her as a living, breathing figure was too much to bear. She had poured her heart into creating him, weaving him into the pages of her novel as both a dream and a nightmare. But now? Now he was real, and she hated him from the depths of her soul.

Elle wiped at her cheeks hastily, her fingertips brushing against the warm, salty tears she couldn't hold back. She clenched her fists, trying to stifle the ache in her heart. She needed to be stronger than this. She couldn't let herself break—not here, not now.

Unknowingly, her aimless steps had brought her to the farthest corner of the Crown Prince's wing. A wing she had conjured in her imagination when creating Nova's world, now brought to life in vivid, daunting detail. The corridor stretched endlessly, lined with towering crystalline pillars that gleamed under the afternoon sunlight.

Each pillar reflected the light in rippling hues of soft blue and golden yellow, creating an almost ethereal glow. The play of light transformed the space into something magical—otherworldly. Yet Elle knew the truth. It wasn't magic. It was the way the light danced on the surfaces, refracting and bending to create an illusion.

At night, this corridor would look vastly different. The light of the moon would shift the colors to deep crimson and inky black, painting the space in haunting shadows. It was a feature she had designed to unsettle and awe anyone who dared to walk through it. Even now, in the daylight, the corridor felt eerily still, its beauty masking an underlying tension she couldn't quite place.

"Woah," Elle murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes roamed over the intricate carvings etched into the pillars, designs that seemed to ripple and shift if she looked too long. "I didn't expect this to look so... fascinating."

For a brief moment, the beauty of the space soothed her frayed nerves. The stillness, the grandeur—it was calming, almost comforting. But that comfort shattered in an instant when a voice broke the silence. A voice that was far too familiar.

Elle froze, her senses snapping to full alert. The voice carried a sharpness, a commanding edge that sent a chill down her spine. Heart pounding, she darted behind one of the massive pillars, pressing her back against its cool surface. She held her breath, straining to catch the words being spoken.

"The Crown Prince has grown impatient. He's given clear orders," the voice said, low but firm. There was a pause, followed by the sound of footsteps pacing. "If she doesn't comply, you know what must be done."

Elle's blood ran cold. Her heart thudded so loudly she feared it would give her away. She peeked cautiously around the edge of the pillar, her eyes narrowing as she tried to make out the figures in the distance. Two men stood in the corridor, their faces obscured by the play of light. One of them was speaking in a hushed but forceful tone, while the other listened intently, nodding occasionally.

"We can't afford any mistakes," the first man continued. "If she becomes a liability, we'll handle it as instructed."

Elle's mind raced. Who were they talking about? And what orders had the Crown Prince given? Her breath hitched as a terrifying thought crept into her mind: were they talking about her?

She pressed herself tighter against the pillar, willing herself to remain invisible. Her palms felt clammy, and her legs trembled beneath her. She wanted to move, to run, but fear rooted her in place.

"Make sure no one else finds out," the man added, his tone dropping to a deadly calm. "If word spreads, we'll all pay the price."

The two men began to move, their footsteps echoing ominously as they walked away from her hiding spot. Elle remained frozen, waiting until their voices faded into the distance. Only then did she let out the breath she'd been holding, her chest heaving as she struggled to steady herself.

Her mind churned with questions and doubts. What had she just overheard? And how was she supposed to confront the Crown Prince now, knowing he was at the center of whatever dark scheme was unfolding?

Elle gritted her teeth, forcing herself to push past the fear. She couldn't let this break her. Not yet. She would find out the truth—no matter the cost.

Elle's steps quickened, her mind racing for answers as she navigated the corridors. The sharp turn to her assigned room came almost instinctively, the familiar path etched in her memory from hours of wandering. She didn't know what she would do once she got there—perhaps sit in solitude, collect her thoughts, or try to untangle this twisted reality she'd been thrust into.

But the sight before her halted her in her tracks.

The doorway was flanked by guards, their stoic faces giving nothing away. Inside, the soft shuffle of footsteps and the rustle of fabric reached her ears. Peering in, Elle froze as she took in the scene. The maids—half a dozen of them—were moving briskly, their hands busy removing things from the room.

The pit of her stomach churned. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

Summoning whatever composure she could, Elle stepped inside, her voice trembling with more realization than inquiry. "What's going on here?"

Her words barely seemed to register. The maids moved about as if she were invisible, their gazes deliberately avoiding hers, but their expressions—furtive glances paired with sneering lips—said more than enough.

Elle's chest tightened, a pounding ache filling her ribs. Was this deliberate? Her presence so insignificant that they wouldn't even grant her the courtesy of acknowledgment?

A snicker broke the air, sharp and biting. One of the maids finally turned, her gaze raking over Elle like she was nothing more than a discarded scrap of fabric. The woman's lips curled into a cruel smirk, her voice dripping venom.

"His Highness has had enough of you already," she said, each word laced with mockery, her disdain practically seeping into the walls.

The room seemed to tilt. Elle's legs faltered, her hand reaching for the doorframe to steady herself. The maid's words echoed in her mind, ricocheting off the fragile walls of her thoughts.

"What… what do you mean?" Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

The maid offered no further explanation, her sneer deepening before turning her back to Elle, as if she'd already said more than Elle deserved to hear.

Elle's mind spiraled. Tired of me? That wasn't possible. He didn't even know her, not truly. They had barely spoken, and whatever fragments of conversation they'd exchanged couldn't have amounted to anything meaningful. Her throat tightened as panic clawed its way up.

Her eyes darted around the room, now stripped bare of any semblance of belonging. Why is this happening? she thought, her breaths shallow and uneven. Why is everything falling apart?

Her thoughts snagged on the familiarity of it all—the guards, the layout, even the cursed crystal corridor that still lingered in her mind. It's all mine, she thought. The realization struck with the force of a tidal wave. This was the Nova I wrote. And yet… it wasn't.

The maids continued their work, their movements brisk and indifferent, their hushed murmurs laced with contempt Elle couldn't fully decipher. But their disdain was clear. She didn't belong here.

But why?

Elle bit her lip hard enough to taste copper, her hands trembling as she tried to make sense of the chaos. But sense was the one thing this world seemed to lack.