For the past three days, I had tried to speak with Henry, yet he avoided me at every turn.
I even asked him to train me in horse riding, but he sent Sir Lance in his place.
Maria was utterly alarmed when she saw my back. In the end, I told her everything that had been happening to me.
She remained silent throughout my tale, and for a moment I feared she thought me mad.
Yet, when I finished, she spoke softly:
"My lady, my grandmother was from the Northern Kingdom as well. She used to tell me many stories.
Once, she spoke of a woman—a healer—whom she had met in her youth, and that woman had a condition much like yours. I believed it no more than a tale, but now… it must have been true."
"Do you know the woman's name?" I asked eagerly.
"I am sorry, my lady. I do not remember," she replied, and I could not hide my disappointment.
"Did the woman's eyes change colour as well?"
She apologized again, for she did not know.
"Do not worry, Maria. It means a great deal that you believe me."
She warned me once more to tell no one, and I began to speak to her of the other world. She listened with wonder—astonished by the thought of carriages replaced by moving inventions called cars, and saddened by Julia's life.
I was deeply grateful to have her beside me, to share this burden.
Days passed, and at last only one day remained before the prince's ceremony.
I still could not speak with Henry, and at last I had had enough.
That night, I entered his chamber without warning.
He started in surprise, nearly dropping the book in his hands.
"Aria, what are you doing?"
"I beg your pardon for the intrusion, but you have left me no choice. Why do you avoid me?"
"I—I am not avoiding you," he said, clearly uneasy.
"Henry, please," I pleaded. "I must understand what I am. I am lost. Help me."
I saw him waver, guilt upon his face. I pressed on.
"Tell me anything you know. I beg you."
At last, he relented.
"Very well. I do not know much, Aria… but I believe you are a witch. One with strong magic."
"Tell me of witches," I said, taking a seat opposite him.
He sighed.
"All I know is that witches and wizards show their power through their eyes—they change colour when magic is used."
"Are there many like me?"
"The records say such magic vanished a century ago."
"Then what am I?" I asked, bewildered.
"I do not know," he admitted. "But your power is far greater than what is written. Most witches possessed healing magic. You… you can move objects."
There was something like admiration in his gaze.
"I read of the Orlok village," I said. "They were said to have red eyes. Do you know of them?"
He grew thoughtful before answering carefully.
"There are two kinds of magic—good and evil. Those who use good magic have amber eyes. Those who use evil magic have red."
"What makes one evil?" I asked.
"No one is born so."
"I am not certain," he said. "But it is said that if one uses magic to harm or kill, the eyes will turn red."
He paused, then added gravely,
"Aria, you must be cautious. Many would seek to possess you if they knew of your power."
"Even the duke," I said quietly.
"Yes," Henry replied. "Even the duke."
"Why do you protect me, Henry?"
"Because you do not deserve harm," he said at once. "You are innocent."
His words struck me deeply.
I do not deserve harm.
I had held everything within me for so long, pretending it was not real—pretending it was but a tale.
But now it all felt too heavy.
My vision blurred with tears.
Why was this happening to me? I did not deserve this.
Henry looked utterly at a loss as I began to cry.
He moved closer, placing a hand gently upon my back, but I turned and embraced him, letting my tears fall freely.
He held me without a word until I calmed.
At last, I pulled away, and we exchanged faint smiles.
Then his expression grew serious.
"The duke suspects that your powers have awakened. You must be careful."
"He knew all along?" I asked.
"I believe he did."
After a moment, I said softly, "Forgive me for barging into your chamber."
He laughed lightly.
"You are full of surprises, Aria. Now go and rest—we shall speak more tomorrow. You will have a long day ahead."
I returned to my room with a lighter heart.
I could trust Henry.
------------------------
The swing moved gently beneath me. I did not feel like playing. I only wished to sit in stillness.
For the first time in my nine years, Dad had raised his voice at me. I fled to the park to escape him.
A man approached and knelt before me, placing his hands upon the ropes of the swing.
"Ah… hello?" I said uncertainly, a little afraid.
"Aria, you must find James Alden," the man said.
"Sir, you are mistaken. I am not Aria," I replied.
He grasped my shoulders firmly.
"Did you hear me, Aria? You must find James Alden."
"You must find—"
"JAMES ALDEN!"
I awoke with a start, gasping for breath.
It felt as though I had been drowning, only now allowed to breathe again. My body was drenched in sweat.
That man…
That man was my father.
And yet—his hair was dark brown.
What did it mean?
James Alden… who are you?