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A gust of hot air swam up Mara’s skirts as she scaled the halls of the castle, attempting to hide amongst the never-ending shadows to avoid Kairth’s guards. Mara had discovered she could slip out on guard rotation without being seen. However, that meant she was roaming the castle at far too early an hour, yawning on cue.

Slipping around a corner, she heard a rumbling, similar to the sound she heard in the Sandwoods. Fear closed in around her heart, freezing her in place, but she didn’t hear the sound again, chalking it up to her imagination because if she didn’t create it in her head, that meant something big—something dangerous—lingered in the halls of Kairth. Perhaps it was a bad idea to roam alone before dawn.

She waltzed onto the gallery walkway, not fully assured she knew how to make her way back and stopped at one of the windowless arches. She rested her arms on the edge and looked out at the expansive sea. She sighed, laying her head atop her arms, watching as the blue waters sparkled with hints of orange from the barely rising sun. The shores danced with a blush of pink, the sun refracting off the translucent red flowers that lined a small section of the beach, secluding it.

She hadn’t been able to go down to the ocean yet, busy with everything Acastus was having her do. And none of her guards would take her. They’d say it was out of their authority. She could explore the castle, but that’s where the extent of her freedom lay. She would have asked Acastus and pleaded with him to escort her to the ebbing waters, but she found herself shy, unwilling to disturb him. And ever since he left that mark on her neck, she had begun to fear him.

Instead, she slipped off to the cobblestone staircase on the adverse side of the gallery, leading her down to the rocky shore. When her feet touched the soft grass, coming off the stairs, she turned back to make sure no one was watching her. The castle was so quiet early in the morning that all she could truly hear was the crashing orchestra of the ocean. She smiled, hiked her skirts up, and started her trail down to the sandy shore.

She had to dance around bends in the faint path, passing bushes of beautiful flowers and random overgrown benches angled for the guest to be able to look out onto the horizon. Her hand trailed the stone fence that appeared to be guarding a small garden. She was so close to the shore that her chest was growing giddy with pure, unadulterated excitement. She went to descend the last chunk of sandy steps when she spotted something moving in the gardens. She paused momentarily, focusing her eyes past the tall flora, lush vines, and multiple tiny birds that chirped as they hopped along the garden’s verdant floor.

Her breath lodged itself in her throat when she got on the tips of her toes to try and see what was swaying the bushes. She was hoping it was a wild rabbit, but instead, she saw a familiar rusted tunic. Evrardin. It was easy to tell it was him, even from behind as he knelt on the ground and clipped away, pruning the flower bushes before him.

It took Mara a moment to process what she was watching: Evrardin tending to the gardens. Her first instinct was to assume this was a directive, a duty he was to maintain, but why would anyone here instruct the Captain of the Royal Guard to dally around the gardens before the crack of dawn?

She went to open her mouth, to make a jest, to embarrass him, but then she quickly sealed her lips. If Evrardin saw her, he’d surely drag her back inside to the safe confines of the castle. Instead, she resolved to silently watching him for a few moments longer, pushing her luck. Evrardin grunted as he heaved himself off the ground and Mara had to bite her lip from making a joke about how ancient he was.

A small bird tapped on the front of his boot and Evrardin glanced down. She half-expected him to punt the thing, but he reached for it and let the bird hop onto his finger, lifting it to his shoulder. This must have been something he’d done before because Evrardin read the bird correctly, the tiny bundle of feathers seemingly satisfied as it sat happily on his shoulder.

Ev slid his shears into his belt and grabbed his shovel from the ground, strolling off into the depths of the gardens. She could have sworn she heard him mumbling something to the bird if only the damn ocean wasn’t so loud. It was jarring to watch him in the cool light of early morning. He was jagged and rough around the edges, surrounded by billowing floral shrubs and fragile petals, his calloused hands softly working the stems as he plucked away dead leaves. It was all so difficult to digest.

She was tempted to ogle more, but she thought better of it and hurried down to the sandy beach.

The second her feet touched the sand, she pried her slippers off and let her feet sink, the grainy dirt squishing between her toes. She took her time and approached the water, almost afraid of the vastness. The sheer size of the sea made her shiver.

Still, she made her way closer, but she paused when her feet touched damp sand. In a few beats, the ocean ebbed up the beach and crashed gently around her ankles. She grinned, the cool water tickling the back of her leg as it fled back to the sea. She hiked her skirts up as high as she could without exposing herself, sighing as the cold water melted around her thighs. It cooled her off from the summer heat, the air stifling even with the sun barely rising.

She stood frozen like this for several minutes. She kept telling herself she’d leave to go back before she was caught, but she couldn’t get herself to move. Her feet had sunk into the wet sand below and she smiled at the lulling rhythm of the moving water.

Mara gasped when she saw a fin flap above the surface out in the distance. It happened so fast, she was sure she imagined it. She should have gone back, but it only made her that much more curious. She debated tossing her dress on the shore and swimming out in her undergarments, but that would be foolish, she hadn’t the faintest idea how to swim.

She realized the ocean water wasn’t frightening her like her tub did after the bonding ceremony. Maybe she was finally recovering.

“Go in too far and the nereids will drag you under.”

Mara jumped at the voice carrying across the rippling water. She didn’t have to turn around to know it was Evrardin standing on the shore, watching her.

“Good. Maybe I’ll marry a water nymph. That sounds far superior to my current arrangement,” she said over her shoulder. She was tempted to berate him for his earlier deeds, but the thought made her blush without proper reason. So instead, she kept his gardening and discussion with a tiny birdie to herself.

“Yeah? You do know princesses can’t breathe underwater, right? Even self-assured ones like yourself.”

Mara shook her head. “I’d learn how to, of course. They’d teach me after finding out what marvelous company I am.” She gave him a devious grin before looking back at the horizon.

“If you expect your shining personality to save you from these beasts, you are poorly mistaken.”

“Are you this cynical with everyone, Captain, or just me?”

“Can’t say I’ve been known for my charms. Not a trait partial to my designation.”

She turned and began to stride out, her thighs having to strain to move in the deep water. “Oh, that’s truly disappointing. And here I was, thinking I was special.”

When she made it back to the shore, she dropped her skirt, the fabric clinging to her salty legs, and she grinned at Evrardin.

He scowled back at her, and she giggled, which only proved to irritate him more.

“Your sour attitude will not ruin my day today, Captain. I just got to touch the ocean. I was standing in the actual sea!”

Evrardin ran a hand through his loose hair. “If you liked it so much, why are you standing with me up on the shore?”

Mara’s eyebrows scrunched together, forgoing her movements to reach down and grab her slippers. “Aren’t you going to escort me back inside?”

“Do you want me to?” he asked with a raised brow.

Mara’s head tilted to the side slightly. “I… I mean, I would rather stay here and wander the tides a little longer.” Her voice was soft, the roaring ocean wind carrying it the small distance to Evrardin’s ears.

He gestured his head toward the water with a grunt. “Before I change my mind,” he chided.

Mara blinked several times. She was about to hound him, ask him why he would let her spend more time in the ocean where she hadn’t been allowed, but she didn’t want him to drag her back in. She gave a timid smile and turned, walking back into the water, dropping her skirt and letting it billow behind her in the waves. “Won’t the nereids eat me?” she joked.

“No. Unfortunately for me, they only seem to enjoy drowning men.”

Mara wasn’t sure if his comment implied he was upset he couldn’t go into the water or because Mara wouldn’t be devoured by a mythical divinity.

She laughed either way, the sound carrying across the water’s surface.

He watched her in silence until the sun began to rise in its entirety. He didn’t have to tell her, she made her way back to him on her own when she noticed the time and let him escort her back to her rooms. He didn’t seem concerned about her soaked dress being a tell-tale sign she was out by the ocean. It wasn’t like it was outwardly forbidden, she just couldn’t get anyone to take her. Evrardin was the captain, no one would question him. If she was safe in anyone's company, it would be his, much to both of their dismay.

Mara began toward the library—a place she was steadily growing to hate—alone this time, after dark to fool her wardens that she was safe inside her room. To scour the shelves, pulling anything that might be of use and hauling it back to her rooms to stare at for hours. All to please the prince.

The prince didn’t have to threaten her for her to feel fear. His candor and eyes were enough to warn her from defying him. And Mara lacked cowardice. She felt like her spine had been taken from her. She wasn’t like all the brave maidens from her fairy tales.

Evrardin would surely agree that she lacked courage—he’d probably say she lacked any substance at all.

As if taunting her, her mind recalled the previous day when he got a little too close in the stacks of the library. Her heart had been ready to burst out of her chest. She tried to suppress that feeling. The body reacts to stimuli, and a man being so close made her nervous. She had every inclination to get weary when an armed guard invaded her personal space in the dark, secluded corner of the library. It was nothing beyond being frightened of him.

And this morning, when he allowed her to frolic in the waves a bit longer…

Mara's mouth went dry trying to shake Evrardin from her thoughts. He was starting to complicate things, and that annoyed her.

With nothing but a piece of bread in her pocket, Mara clung to the cobblestone wall at the faint echo of footsteps. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if she was caught—Acastus instructed her to be in the library day in and day out after all—but she didn’t want some annoying man—especially her familiar brooding one—hovering as she tried, and failed, to make sense of glassfairing.

She poked her head beyond the corner, spying the grand gilded doors to the library as a wisp of dark gray slipped down the corridor. She inched further out to try and get a better look.

She recognized that small stature, the way the person hobbled. Crowrot.

What was he doing in the library? Not that it should be odd to find anyone exiting a library, but she thought it interesting for him to be departing so late in the evening when she was just arriving, the wall sconces waning in the shadowed night.

Inside the dusty room that smelt of parchment and melting tallow wax, she scoured to see if any books had been mislaid, or if there was a gap in one of the shelves she knew were filled to the brim. Skating around the stacks, a small puff of dreary smoke drifted from a candle on a desk in the corner where she had sat one of the previous times she was here.

The table had nothing on it but one, single book. She squinted, the room dark with the sun tucked away and the candles not all lit.

“ The Misuse of Moat Maintenance: A Treatise on the Practicalities of Castle Infrastructure, ” she read aloud. Curiously, Mara recalled this title, boring as it was, but from where? Mara drifted into the seat and flipped through the text, convinced this was the book Crowrot had just been scanning.

Shock struck her, remembering this title from the forbidden section. Last she remembered, the tome was locked behind gilded bars, assuming it accidentally got shoved in with the wrong lot—how could something about infrastructure be forbidden?

When she began reading the text, it was exactly as the cover made it appear: dull and technical, almost unreadable without interest in the finer points of castle infrastructure. She sighed, a bit disappointed, and kept lazily flipping through the pages until the content suddenly shifted. Mara steadied her hands and sat up straighter. The book had an ornate page with the words Phantom Atonements: The How’s and Why’s of Dark Magick written in deep blue ink.

Mara arched a brow, suddenly enthralled. The pages that followed were vastly different from the first half of the book. Her fingers traced over various spells and histories of archaic summonings. There were drawings of diagrams and sigils that marked the parchment. Her heart raced; she felt like she shouldn’t be reading this at all.

Then she paused over a peculiar line of wording written in gilded ink. Phantom Curses and Other Casualties.

A phantom incantation can often be used to replicate something otherwise impossible. Archmage Delair was the first to discover such a spell—later coined as a curse. Such a powerful incantation has only been successfully completed by blood relatives of superior houses; the god humors that run through their veins seemingly necessary for such evil. However, it’s been theorized by archmages that consuming draugr flora—the only flora in our realm that stems directly from the Veil—can grant a person enough dark magick to perform such spells. *Refer to section 9.4 for Risks of Flora Consumption.

When a member of House Blackwing, in the present-day province of the Realm of Lost Men, summoned a replica of his sister's brain in an attempt to save her, only atrocious things followed. Marquess Blackwing had created a phantom forgery of his sister’s brain days following her death—a lygi limb; lygi stemming from the old-world word “to lie.” When the lygi brain was placed in a freshly deceased corpse, his sister did, in fact, come back to life. Though, she was described as a monster, demons clogging her thoughts. She couldn’t do a thing without the assistance of her handmaidens. And when she did respond to stimuli, it was with screeches and growls.

He was forced to cut down his sister, watching her die for a second time.

Since Marquess Blackwing, the curse has been banned in all of Junefell. But of course, this excludes the Ghost and Dusk Court. Texts documenting the detailed ritual to produce a lygi incantation have long since either been destroyed or locked away with unbreakable curses by talented sorcerers.

Mara sat dumbfounded before the text, trying to digest all she had just discovered. She watched as the inky words on the page began to fade and swirl into new sentences. Her eyes struggled to keep up, the writing transforming to an excerpt about the consequences of insufficient depths for castle moats. She quickly skimmed through the following pages, watching as the words drifted away and were replaced by useless nonsense.

“Wait, wait, wait!” she whined. When she realized all the pages had switched to match the cover of the tome, she closed the book with a hostile sound. She wondered how many more tomes in this library appeared mundane and simple on the outside but were filled with forbidden knowledge and erased history.