The rain began before dawn — a soft drizzle that soon turned relentless, tapping against the manor's windows like impatient fingers. The servants whispered of omens and restless spirits. By morning, the corridors were heavy with tension.
Seraphina knew something was wrong the moment she stepped out of her chamber. The air felt different — sharp, cold, as if the manor itself held its breath.
Then she heard it.
A sound she had never heard before — her mother's voice, breaking.
She hurried down the corridor, her nightgown brushing against the marble floor, until she reached her parents' chambers. Two guards stood at the door, their faces pale and uncertain.
"What's happening?" she demanded.
The Queen's maid, eyes red from crying, stepped forward. "Your Majesty… the King — he's fallen ill. He collapsed before sunrise."
Seraphina's heart clenched. She pushed past them and entered the room.
Her father lay on the great canopied bed, his skin ashen, his breathing shallow. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead, though the room was chilled. The once-mighty King of Valemont — the man whose voice could silence a hall — now struggled to whisper.
"Father," Seraphina breathed, kneeling beside him. "What happened?"
The Queen stood near the window, clutching a handkerchief tightly in her trembling hand. "He was well last night," she said softly, disbelief quivering in her voice. "Then in the early hours, he began to shake… as if something unseen had seized him. He called out a name before he fell unconscious."
"What name?" Seraphina asked quickly.
The Queen hesitated. "Selene."
Seraphina turned sharply. "Selene?"
The door creaked open behind them. Selene stood in the doorway, her face calm, her expression unreadable. "I heard my name."
Her gaze flicked to the bed, to the pale form of their father. "Is he…"
"Alive," the Queen replied quickly. "But weakening."
Selene approached slowly, her eyes soft with feigned concern. She reached for the King's hand — and the moment her fingers touched his, the candlelight in the room flickered violently. The flame bent toward her, as though drawn by an unseen wind.
Seraphina shivered. "Selene, don't—"
But Selene didn't move. Her eyes were fixed on the King's face, her lips barely moving — whispering something too faint to hear.
The queen clutched her chest, stepping back. "What are you saying?"
Selene blinked, the faintest smile tugging at her lips. "A prayer," she said softly. "For his healing."
Yet the moment she stepped away, the King's body convulsed. The sheets twisted under his fists, his breathing ragged. His eyes shot open — glazed and terrified.
"Get a physician!" the Queen cried. "Now!"
Servants scattered, and within minutes the royal physician rushed in, carrying vials and herbs. But even as he examined the King, his hands trembled. "There's no fever," he murmured. "No poison. It's as if his strength is being… drained."
Seraphina's stomach turned cold. She looked toward her sister, who stood perfectly still by the window, watching the rain fall.
"Selene," she said quietly, "did you dream last night?"
Her sister's reflection smiled faintly in the glass. "No," she replied. "I didn't sleep at all."
The physician placed a damp cloth over the King's brow. "He must not be disturbed," he said, his voice low and uncertain. "But if this continues… I fear he won't last till morning."
The Queen's tears fell freely now. "Not him… not my husband…"
Seraphina stood frozen, watching her father fade before her eyes. The echo of her dream — Selene's whispered plea for help — returned with cruel clarity.
She turned toward her sister again, her voice trembling. "What are you doing to him?"
Selene's smile faltered, though her eyes remained cold. "Be careful with your accusations, dear sister," she said softly. "Sometimes illness needs no cause. Sometimes it's simply… destiny."
Then she turned and walked out of the room, leaving behind only the faint trace of her perfume — and a lingering chill that made even the Queen shiver.
Seraphina sank to her knees beside her father, clutching his hand.
"Please," she whispered. "Stay with me."
But the King's breath was weakening — slow, shallow, fading like a candle flame fighting against the storm.
Outside, thunder rolled again, shaking the glass panes. And far below, in the sealed cellar beneath the manor, something ancient stirred — a low hum, faint but growing, like the heartbeat of something long forgotten… waking.
The steady rise and fall of the King's chest had grown weaker with each passing hour. The once vibrant chamber of Valemont's ruler was now thick with the scent of burnt herbs and fear. Physicians murmured to one another, their hands trembling as they mixed concoctions that offered no relief. The Queen sat by her husband's bedside, eyes hollow, clutching his frail hand as though she could anchor his spirit to the mortal world by will alone.
Seraphina had not moved from her father's side since dawn. Her fingers brushed a damp cloth across his forehead, whispering quiet prayers that dissolved into the still air. She could feel the tremor of something unnatural in the room — the same heaviness that had begun to crawl through Valemont itself.
Outside, thunder rumbled though the sky was clear. A sign, she thought. A warning.
Then — a flicker. Her father's eyelids fluttered open, his breath rasping like wind through cracked stone. The Queen gasped and leaned forward, calling his name in disbelief. Seraphina froze, her heart hammering against her ribs as his cloudy eyes slowly turned toward her.
"Father?" she whispered, clutching his hand.
His lips trembled before sound escaped — barely audible, yet sharp enough to pierce through the fog of delirium.
"Find… Selene…" he rasped.
Seraphina leaned closer, desperate to understand. "What do you mean, Father? She's here—she's safe."
But his eyes rolled back before he could finish. His hand fell limp against the sheets, the frail breath escaping his chest once more. The room erupted into panic — the Queen calling for the healers, the attendants rushing to fetch water and linen — yet Seraphina could only sit frozen, staring at her father's lifeless form.
Find Selene.
The words echoed in her head like a curse.
Why would he say that? Selene was in her room… or so she thought.
Her mind swirled with questions she couldn't voice. The image of her sister's cold smirk at breakfast, her strange absences, the whispers she thought she heard at night — all collided into a pit of dread within her.
She rose slowly, the weight of her gown dragging behind her as she turned toward the door. "Mother," she murmured, barely audible, "I'll be right back."
The Queen didn't even look up; she was weeping softly into the King's motionless hand.
Seraphina stepped into the dimly lit corridor, her pulse quickening. Every flicker of candlelight seemed to stretch the shadows along the walls. Find Selene.
But as she made her way down the silent hall toward her twin's chamber, she couldn't shake the feeling that whoever — whatever — she was going to find inside…
Might not be her sister at a