I had been buried in the ancient library for hours—scrolls, tomes, fragments of half-decayed parchment scattered across the table before me.
Anything would do. Anything that might tell me where Atarae’s memories had been stored… or how to bring them back.
Most of it was useless.
Herbology. Binding circles. Old protection wards written by scholars long dead. I read them all anyway, committing what I could to memory.
If nothing else, I would make sure Atarae was protected in every way still left to me.
When I finally looked up, the sky beyond the tall arched windows had darkened to deep indigo.
How long had I been here?
It didn’t matter. I shut the book in my hands and stacked it with the others. My fingers lingered for a moment before I exhaled sharply.
“This isn’t getting me anywhere.”
I stood, rubbing the back of my neck, frustration coiling tight in my chest. There had to be something. There had to be—
My gaze snagged on a lone scroll tucked awkwardly between two massive volumes. Its edges were worn, but the seal remained intact. Preserved. Hidden.
I frowned and reached for it.
“Where have you been?”
My body locked instantly, instincts flaring—then easing as recognition set in.
Griselda.
I didn’t turn. I folded my arms slowly. “Oh. It’s you.”
I heard her shift her weight. “I’ve been worried,” she said quietly. “You disappeared since—”
“Since you erased their memories,” I cut in, sharp as steel, finally snapping my head toward her.
She froze.
Her eyes widened, fingers twisting anxiously into the fabric of her sleeves. She wouldn’t meet my gaze. “I—I was worried—”
I lifted a hand, stopping her. “Please. You didn’t even notice I was gone until I walked out that door.”
Silence.
“I have my burdens,” she said at last, voice thin.
She really didn't know when to stop. Predictable.
“So does everyone,” I replied coldly. “Some of us still choose to rebel.”
Her brow furrowed. Only then did I really look at her.
Red-rimmed eyes. Tight jaw. The faint signs of someone who had already broken down when no one was watching.
So. She does feel guilt. But guilt alone won't save her.
I turned away with a quiet scoff and resumed scanning the shelves. “You can leave. I’m busy trying to protect the people I actually care about.”
She didn’t answer.
I didn’t look back. She didn’t deserve that courtesy—not anymore. She knew what she had done. And one day, she would pay for it.
Footsteps sounded behind me—hesitant, uneven.
Then they faded.
The door closed softly.
I stood alone again in the library, the weight of silence settling over me as my hand tightened around the hidden scroll.
Whatever she had done…
I would undo it.
Even if I had to defy the Empress.
17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcHrNPpZed1
17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbUzVq9TuPX
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