Chapter 3
Eileen's POV
Yesterday afternoon. Vespera hiking up her dress, climbing through the forest behind the manor, muttering about magical herbs, needing something—anything—that might let her use magic like a real mage, not a useless embarrassment.
Finding the cave, hidden behind a curtain of vines.
Pushing through into darkness, and then—
A boy. No, a young man. Silver-white hair. Pure white robes torn and stained with blood. A wound across his chest like something with claws had tried to rip out his heart.
On his chest, a crystal. Thumbnail-sized, silver, pulsing with power so intense it warped the air.
Vespera's greed, sharp and immediate. "If I had that power..."
Reaching out. Grabbing the crystal. The man too weak to stop her. The silver chain snapping. He coughed up blood, then passed out.
Running. Hiding it in the locked drawer of her vanity.
And then I woke up.
The memories faded, leaving me gasping on the floor in a cold sweat. I pushed myself up on shaking arms, my mind racing to piece together what the fuck had happened.
Vespera stole the Dragonheart. That's why we were executed.
I opened the drawer and stared at that silver crystal.
"It was that dragon... it pulled my soul back... but why me?"
I reached out, my fingertips approaching the crystal again. Maybe touching it would give me answers, maybe the dragon would appear again, tell me what the hell all this meant—
My finger touched the crystal's surface.
Nothing happened.
No silver void.
No dragon.
No sensation of being pulled into another world.
The crystal just lay there quietly, like an ordinary—no, not ordinary, but at least no longer responding to me—piece of crystal. It was warm, smooth, pulsing with magic, but that was all.
I tried again, my palm completely covering the crystal.
Still nothing.
"Why..." I murmured, my voice echoing in the empty room. "Why doesn't it work now?"
Was it because I was no longer Eileen? Or because the dragon had already done what He wanted to do?
I pulled my hand back, staring at the crystal, a deeper unease spreading through my chest.
No answers.
But I thought of something more important—what about my original body?
I pushed open the door, desperate to find my own body.
Downstairs, I saw the family butler. I hurried to him.
"Alfred, have you seen Eileen?"
Alfred looked at me in confusion. "Miss Thorne, there's no one by that name in the manor."
I froze, trying to understand his words.
No one by that name.
I continued asking several maids I'd been close with, but got the same answer.
Eileen doesn't exist.
I returned to my room and sat numbly on the bed, all questions unanswered.
I even faced a more severe problem:
The Dragonheart lay quietly in the drawer, innocent and deadly. And I would still face execution.
I sighed. "Damn it! Why couldn't it be earlier?! Before this idiot did this?!"
But even as panic clawed at my throat, my brain was already weighing angles. Okay. Okay, think. The execution is half a month away. I still have time. And the Dragonheart hasn't been discovered yet. If I can return it, maybe—
No. Wait. I forced myself to slow down, think carefully. Even if I return it, he already knows who took it.
But I quickly overturned that conclusion. If he knew who took it, why not arrest Vespera immediately instead of waiting half a month?
My head felt more confused than ever.
Return it and maybe survive. Keep it and definitely die.
I stared at the crystal, my reflection distorted in its facets. Then I made my decision.
"Fuck it. I'm returning it. At least that gives me a chance."
I carefully wrapped the Dragonheart in a silk handkerchief, tucking it into a hidden pocket in my dress. Then I went to the wardrobe and pulled out one of Vespera's signature outfits—a rose-purple dress with layers of ruffles screaming I'm rich and you're not.
Standing before the mirror, I practiced. Chin up, eyes cold and dismissive, shoulders back, that particular way Vespera looked at people like insects. I'd watched her do it a thousand times. Now I had to become it.
"I'm Vespera now. Can't slip up. Can't let anyone suspect."
I opened my bedroom door and stepped into the hallway. Two maids saw me and immediately dropped into curtsies. "Good morning, Miss Vespera."
I nodded, keeping my expression bored and superior, even as my mind screamed. I used to be one of them. I used to curtsy to Vespera. Now I'm wearing her face, living in her skin, and if they knew—if anyone knew—
I pushed the thought away and headed for the back entrance.
I'd reached the back gate when I saw her.
Celia stood at the end of the path leading to the back woods, a small basket in her hands. Our eyes met, and I watched her face go pale, watched her take an instinctive step backward.
She was terrified of me. Of Vespera.
Something twisted in my chest. Celia was the only person in this house I'd genuinely pitied. She was just a girl unfortunate enough to be born to a commoner mother, stuck in a family that treated her like dirt.
I opened my mouth, and the words that almost came out were gentle, concerned—Celia, are you okay?—in the tone I'd used when I was a maid who sometimes snuck her extra food.
I caught myself just in time.
No. I'm Vespera now. If I act different, if I show kindness, they'll know something's wrong. They'll investigate. They'll discover I'm not Vespera and burn me as a monster.
I forced myself into Vespera's signature sneer. "Get back inside, you bastard." The words tasted like ash in my mouth, but I said them anyway, trying to match Vespera's particular brand of casual cruelty.
It didn't come out quite right—my voice was too stiff, the delivery off—but it was enough.
Celia's eyes filled with tears. She turned and went back.
I watched her go, guilt churning in my stomach. I'm sorry. But I can't risk it. Not yet.
The forest was overgrown and treacherous. My stupid fancy shoes kept catching on roots and stones. I kicked them off halfway there and ran barefoot, the hem of my dress tearing on thorns, branches whipping at my face.
Finally, I found it—the cave, exactly where Vespera's memories said it would be, hidden behind a curtain of vines. The air smelled damp and metallic, like old blood.
I pushed through the vines, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat.
He was still there.
The silver-haired boy lay exactly where Vespera had left him, pale as death, barely breathing. In the dim light filtering through the cave entrance, he looked almost ethereal, like something that shouldn't exist in the mortal world.
Thank god. He's still unconscious.
I crept closer, barely daring to breathe. Just put it back. Just place it where it was, then run like hell. Maybe he'll show mercy. Maybe—
Just as I crouched down and began reaching for the hidden pocket in my dress, a hand shot out and grabbed my wrist.
The grip wasn't strong, but it was enough to freeze me in place, enough to stop my heart.
He opened his eyes.
Ice-blue, inhuman, staring directly at me.
We looked at each other for a long, terrible moment. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. My entire plan had just collapsed into dust.
I'm dead. He's going to kill me right here.
Then he spoke, and his words shattered everything I thought I knew.
His voice was soft, confused, almost fragile.
"Who... are you?"
