Chapter 11: A Silent Threat

Elaria's POV

Torchlight flickered, making shadows dance as I walked the stone halls. I was tired, but I couldn't let it show. The crown's weight felt heavier tonight, even though I wasn't wearing it yet.

I heard whispers all around. Servants, guards, even the Council – I could feel their eyes questioning me. **Was I up to the task?**

Doubt had crept into Nyxvale's throne room.

I took a breath and kept going. Rowan was probably settling into his chambers in the west wing – the same ones the old King used to have. I told everyone I put him there for strategic reasons, right in the middle of everything. But really?

I wanted him to see what he was up against.

To feel the history, the loss, and all expectations.

A cold breeze blew through the halls, bringing a smell I didn't recognize – bitter, and metallic. Something was wrong. Someone had been here recently.

I turned a corner and almost ran into Aldric. The old Councilman looked at me, his face unreadable. My Queen, he said smoothly. You're out late.

So are you.

He studied me, his eyes dark. A leader needs rest or they'll go crazy.

Maybe. I clenched my fists. Or maybe a leader needs to pay attention, to prevent disaster.

He smiled, like he knew something I didn't. Good point.

There was old tension between us, a part of the palace itself. Aldric had advised my father. He liked things the way they always used to be. He only accepted me as ruler because he had no choice.

Be careful who you trust, my Queen.

I didn't say anything. I didn't need to. He turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing.

Something was going on.

I walked faster to Rowan's chambers. The guards outside bowed and moved aside.

Inside, Rowan was looking at an old map in the candlelight. His shirt was unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, and his hair was messy from running his hands through it. He looked up and relaxed when he saw me.

You shouldn't be here, he said, but he didn't sound angry.

But I am.

He smirked and shook his head. People will talk.

They already do. I looked at the map. What did you find?

He looked serious. People are disappearing from the villages on the eastern border. It's not much, but... He sighed. They're not just leaving. **Something is taking them.**

I felt a chill. What about the Council?

They don't care. They say people are just scared. But the records... He pointed to the map. Some of these villages have been here for centuries. Now they're gone.

I felt uneasy. I knew something was wrong, but **this** felt planned.

I looked at Rowan. Then we need to investigate.

He smiled. I figured you'd say that.

The candlelight flickered, and the map rustled as if something had just passed through. A warning.

We were running out of time. The air felt colder now, and the night pressed in as I followed faint footsteps. Dim lanterns made shadows dance in the hallway, too weak to lift the weight in my gut.

Something had shifted.

I felt it in the air, heavy with what wasn't being said. It wasn't a normal kind of silence; more like something that should be there, was gone. My fingers touched the stone wall as I reached the archives, the heavy wooden doors halfway open. That was off. The scribes locked everything up, and yet it was vulnerable, open.

A prickle went down my spine as I stood at the entrance. Darkness was beyond the doors, because the torches were snuffed out. The old scent of parchment and candle wax had another scent, something faint. Iron, like blood.

I swallowed hard and stepped inside. I felt a shift in the air when I did, like something had stirred at my presence.

My hands tightened. The darkness said things I couldn't understand and my heart beat fast, because I was certain I wasn't alone.

Something rustled. Not brittle pages of ancient scrolls, but clothing brushing against a stone. I turned fast and caught my breath.

Nothing.

The presence stayed, but somehow unseen.

I forced myself toward the desk, because the scribes worked late into the night. The pages were gone. Someone had been searching for something.

Then I saw it.

A single drop of blood soaks into the parchment like ink. My stomach twisted. I followed its path, because it lifted my gaze to the corner of the room.

A figure was there, half-shrouded. Watching me.

For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. The silence stretched, suffocating. I stepped back, ready to flee or fight.

Then—

A whisper was there, low and rasping, curled through the air. You shouldn't be here.

I froze. The voice was barely there. Not a threat. A warning.

The lantern flickered, because it steadied. In that flash I saw more of the figure.

Eyes, hollow and dark.

Then it moved.

I didn't react before the shadows took it, vanishing so it hadn't been there.

My breath came hard as I turned and bolted from the room, the heavy doors pushed. My back hit the wood and my hands were shaking as I struggled to steady my thoughts.

It wasn't my mind. Or how the light tricks, because the paranoia was in my chest.

Someone had been there.

And they were looking for something.

I found Rowan in the training yard, because he spared with the warriors. His movements were exact and calculated. He Moved like he had something to prove.

Even in the light I saw the weight in his eyes. He was the burdens of expectation.

"Rowan," I called.

He caught his opponent's wrist and turned, sending the man down before he turned to me. His expression shifted with my gaze.

I hesitated, because the words felt heavy to say. I didn't know if I should say them in front of the others or wait. Yet the feeling was stuck.

"Something's wrong," I said.

His brow furrowed. "What happened?"

I glanced around and lowered my voice. "The archives… Someone was there, looking for something; and-" I sighed. I saw the, Rowan, and they disappeared, blood?

Rowan stiffened and curled his hands into fists. He asked the warriors to leave. "Show me."

We moved fast, and the sound showed the silence. I pressed against my ribs, my images burned into my mind.

When we showed the doors, I did it with my pulse and iron-filled senses.

Yet this time.

It was different.

The pages were gone. The blood was gone. The desk was arranged as though nothing.

I caught my breath, because it had vanished. I saw here, and I swear...

Rowan's jaw tensed as he scanned the room and curled his hands into fists. Someone doesn't want us to know what they were looking for.

I took a shaky step, and my mind raced. The blood and pages, and the dark, all meant something. What?

I was chilled.

Then, something got my eye. Near a shelf it was lit.

A piece was left.

I reached for it and unfolded with careful fingers. The ink was smudged, yet the words were read. I read things, and the air tightened.

My hands went shiver.

Rowan leaned, and I whispered.

This changes everything."