The silence of the room was suffocating, a weight pressing against my chest. The only sound breaking the stillness was the soft tick of the clock in the corner. Its rhythmic beat grounding me, tethering me to reality. Yet, despite its reassuring presence, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, something lingering just beyond my perception.
Hours had passed since Sophie left, and though I had no idea what to do with myself, I couldn't bring myself to rest. My mind was a storm, filled with images of the dark version of myself, the betrayal, and, most disturbingly, the strange guest who had visited earlier.
It had been a day and I could still feel it. The weight of Lucien's presence, even after he was gone. I tried to push it away, but my mind wouldn't let go. He was the Emperor's secret weapon, and nothing about his visit made sense. Why would a man so powerful, cold, and enigmatic waste his time on a frail, sick woman like me? The Emperor's weapon wasn't a man who acted out of charity. He was a tool, a blade honed for a singular purpose and yet he stood in front of me, delivering vague warnings like some sort of messenger. What did he want? What was his real purpose here?
A sudden creak of a door snapped me out of my thoughts.
Sophie. I could hear her soft footsteps, deliberate and measured, as she approached. She never entered without knocking, never disturbed me unless it was important. But tonight, my patience was thin, and my mind was consumed by my complicated thoughts
"Lady Katerina…" Sophie's voice was tentative, always, but tonight there was an edge to it, a subtle urgency. "Someone is here to see you."
A visitor. I arched an eyebrow, turning toward the door.
"Tell them I'm not receiving anyone," I replied, my tone sharp, final. The words fell from my lips like cold steel.
I couldn't risk it. Not tonight. Not when everything felt… wrong.
I flopped back onto the bed, pretending indifference as I let out a slow breath. What was going on? Why did it feel like the world around me was slowly unraveling?
"Yes, my lady," Sophie's voice drifted from the other side of the door, and I heard her footsteps fade away.
I rose from the bed and began pacing the room, my thoughts churning. The silence had become unbearable. The walls, decorated with golden suns and moons woven into rich tapestries, mocked the turmoil raging inside me. It all felt too perfect, too serene, Like an illusion, a lie.
I felt like an intruder in my own life.
My hand trembled slightly as I approached the dressing table, pulling open the bottom drawer. The journal was nestled at the back, hidden beneath old letters and scraps of paper. It was exactly where I'd left it.
But something had changed.
With a careful motion, I opened it, flipping through the pages. My breath hitched in my throat.
The entries… were different.
The words no longer held the simple, fragmented thoughts I had written before. Instead, the pages now contained detailed accounts of events I hadn't yet witnessed. Things I hadn't done. Names, dates, and scenarios were listed, each one more chilling than the last.
I had checked the journal once before, a cursory glance at my own words. It had been a map of my life, my thoughts, my plans. It was a reflection of me, or so I had thought. But now… Now, it was something else entirely. There were names I didn't remember writing. Names of people who had betrayed me, Names of the people who were my allies and I wasn't aware of it at that time, People who had used me. And at the bottom of one page, I saw a name that shouldn't have been there.
Lucien Thorne.
Why was he in my journal? I had never interacted with him in my previous life, not like this. The very thought of him unsettled me. He didn't belong here. Not in my world, not in my plans.
I turned the pages, my fingers trembling, until I reached the last entry. It was like the ink had shifted, a living thing, rewriting itself beneath my touch. I froze, staring at the words that had appeared on the page:
"The game has shifted, Katerina. They do not know it yet, but the pieces are moving."
I couldn't breathe. My heart raced, thudding against my chest like a war drum.
What did that mean?
I turned the page again, and the words kept coming, growing more unsettling with every line:
"Lucien Thorne is not what he seems. Watch him carefully. His steps will lead him to you, and when he does, you must be ready. He is not a man you can control, but you might be able to use him."
I turned the page again, and the words kept coming:
"Sophie is not your enemy… yet. But she will be. Watch your back. Every ally you think you have is a blade waiting to strike."
They were growing more unsettling with every line:
"Katerina, you know the price of trust. But trust is a lie in this world. The others don't see it yet, but you will. Soon."
The last sentence slapped me awake, a cold reality crashing into my bones:
"The shadow watches you, too."
I felt the color drain from my face. My hands trembled as I clutched the journal to my chest. The words weren't my own, yet they were. I hadn't written them, but they were written in my handwriting. Who had done this? Why was the journal… rewriting itself? Had I written these words in some twisted version of myself, or was something else at play here?
I needed answers, but I wasn't sure I wanted them.
The soft echo of footsteps came again, but this time they were different. The weight of them. The way they scraped against the floor. It was no longer Sophie.
My pulse quickened as I closed the journal with shaking hands. The air around me felt thick, charged, like the very walls were closing in.
A loud knock at the door broke my thoughts. This time, it was insistent. Sophie's voice called out, but it sounded different, strained.
"My lady! I tried to stop him but he insists on speaking with you. He's—"
The door creaked open, but Sophie's words faltered when she stepped inside.
A man stood in the doorway, cloaked in shadows, his face obscured by the dim light. He was tall, his presence overwhelming. His eyes glowed faintly in the darkness, piercing through the room with an unsettling intensity.
My heart skipped a beat.
"Lady Katerina" he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "I believe we have much to discuss."
I stood frozen, my hand still clutching the journal.
What did he know? What was he here for?
I forced myself to speak, though my voice was tight in my throat. "Who are you?"
A slow smile tugged at his lips. It was a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"You'll find out soon enough."