As the cold grew stronger each day, Aelira persisted with her daily training, determined to maintain her discipline. Closing her eyes, she recalled her sensei’s words.

  ?“Listen, Aelira, mana has its own weight. It can disrupt your balance completely. When enchanting your body, distribute it evenly.”

  ?Focusing, she channeled her mana, spreading it as evenly as she had been taught.

  ?“Good. Now…"

  ?Zaek’s voice faded, and the sinister smile she’d seen yesterday flashed in her mind.

  ?“We should get rid of her... But let’s keep this our little secret, yes?”

  ?The memory overwhelmed her, shattering her focus.

  ?“I can’t concentrate at all…” she gasped, breathing heavily.

  ?Slowly, she stood, brushing off her outfit and gazing at the vast sky. It’s almost winter now, she thought. I need to learn more about it.

  ?But whenever she considered asking about it, that terrifying smile haunted her—growing more menacing each time, as if it would hunt her down if she dared speak. She hadn’t asked yesterday, and the fear lingered.

  ?It’s all in your mind, Aelira. Pull yourself together.

  ?She slapped her cheeks, took a deep breath, and moved forward.

  ?After breakfast, she headed to the library, determined to uncover information about the Imperial Swords.

  ?Standing in the middle of the library, she realized it was too much to handle alone. Maybe Aisha can help.

  ?“Aisha, can you help me find some books?” she asked.

  ?“Finding a book?" She turned her head to the side with an emotionless expression. "Unfortunately, my lady, I don’t know how to read,” Aisha replied, bowing her head.

  ?“Ahh. It’s okay, it's not your fault. It's actually my fault that I didn't think about that,” Aelira reassured her.

  ?“Thank you, my lady.”

  ?Aelira stood before a stack of books that seemed relevant, but each one only discussed the history of swords—how dwarves forged them with the strongest magical crystals and titanium, or praised the masters who wielded them. Not a single book mentioned the swords’ pulse or described their appearance in detail.

  ?Frustrated, she slumped into a chair and stared at the ceiling. As she steadied her emotions, her eyes fell on one of the books she’d brought to the table: Secrets of the Swords. Curiosity piqued, she opened it.

  ?“Let’s see… eight swords with their names… this should be it. Page 38.”

  ?She scanned the pages. “Dark ebony katana—no, not this one… greatsword, not this either… white katana! That’s it! As I thought, it’s our family’s sword, Nixviel. But why did Cassian warn me not to talk about it? Maybe I can find something in here.”

  ?Taking a deep breath, she flipped through the pages again, hoping for more, but found only history about its creation and past wielders.

  Still nothing... Maybe uncle can say what it's all about.

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  ?“Aisha, do you know where Uncle Lucien is right now?”

  ?“Lord Lucien? I’m not sure, my lady. Perhaps he’s in his room.”

  His room? Wait, maybe I can find something about this in his room. That way I can learn without asking.

  ?“I see. Thank you, Aisha.”

  ?“Of course, my lady.” Aisha watched Aelira closely as she hurried off, only her eyes followed her.

  ?“Hmm? Aisha, aren’t you coming?” Aelira called back.

  ?“Of course, I will,” Aisha answered.

  ?But Aelira hesitated. On second thought, it’s better if I leave Aisha here. It would be harder to speak with my uncle if she's there

  ?“Actually, Aisha, you should stay here,” Aelira said.

  ?“Should I stay here?” Aisha asked, surprised.

  ?“Yes. I’m going to ask Uncle Lucien something and will be back quickly.”

  ?“My lady, it’s better if I—”

  ?“See you later!” Aelira dashed off before Aisha could finish.

  ?Glancing back, she whispered, “Sorry, Aisha.”

  ?Behind her, Aisha’s expression hardened. The slight warmth vanished from her face, replaced by a colder, detached calm.

  ?“I must report this to Lady Vivianne immediately,” she murmured, her voice devoid of emotion.

  ?Meanwhile, Aelira’s heart thudded in her chest as she approached her uncle’s quarters. Sneaking in unnoticed seems impossible, she thought nervously. He sensed me yesterday, even though I hid so carefully…

  ?Still, a spark of excitement stirred within her—the same thrill she’d felt as a child sneaking into forbidden rooms. Yet she wasn’t sure what she expected to find, or what she would even ask him.

  ?“Come on, Aelira, you can do this,” she whispered, steadying herself.

  ?She approached the door and knocked softly.

  “Uncle Lucien, are you there?”

  ?No response.

  ?Her eyes lit up with anticipation. He’s not here.

  ?She eased the door open and stepped inside. The room was a mess—pillows strewn across the floor, the bed unmade, and various items scattered about.

  ?This is actually messier than my father’s room.

  ?Somewhere else in the mansion, Wilkram sneezed loudly. “Ugh,” he groaned.

  ?What should I look for? I don’t want to see anything other than the sword.

  ?As Aelira scanned the room, that familiar sensation struck her again.

  ?Ba-dump.

  ?“The sword’s somewhere around here.”

  ?True… when I think about it, he never had his sword at breakfast.

  ?The thought of finding it completely captivated her. She searched the room but found no trace of it.

  ?“I guess I should come back later and ask properly,” she muttered, turning to leave.

  ?Ba-dump.

  ?That same chilling pulse struck her again.

  ?Her eyes darted left and right. It’s coming from under the bed.

  ?Kneeling, she lifted the edge of the blanket and froze. There it was—a sword in its sheath, faintly glowing as if it were breathing.

  ?“Aha!” she gasped, pulling it free with effort. “Did he hide it? Why would he do that?”

  She lifted the sword by its sheath, her eyes tracing its form. The scabbard was a stark, pure white, polished to a smooth, matte finish that seemed to absorb the light. In striking contrast, the hilt was a work of intricate art. A tight braid of light-blue and snow-white silk was wrapped around the handle in a traditional diamond pattern, revealing glimpses of ornate, silver fittings beneath. The handle culminated in a finely crafted, spiral-shaped pommel. Swallowing hard, she grasped the hilt.

  ?The moment her fingers touched it, her vision shifted. Vague images appeared before her, until her surroundings were completely obscured by fog. Still, she had a feeling that someone, or something, was just ahead.

  ?What… is this place?

  ?Before she could look closer, something yanked her back.

  ?When she came to her senses, she was kneeling beside the bed, staring at the sword. Lucien was there too, gripping her wrist tightly, prying her hand away from the hilt.

  ?“What do you think you’re doing?”

  ?His voice thundered through the room. His breathing was ragged, his eyes wide with disbelief. In a single motion, he snatched the sword from her grasp.

  ?“Uncle, I—”

  ?Slap.

  ?The sharp sound cracked through the room. Aelira’s head jerked to the side, her eyes wide, her face hidden behind strands of hair.

  ?Silence followed. Lucien’s anger faded as quickly as it came, his expression softening with regret.

  But before he could speak, Aelira turned and bolted from the room, her footsteps echoing down the corridor.

  ?Lucien stood frozen, staring at his trembling hand—the one that had struck her.

  ?“What have I done?” he whispered.

  ?He sank into a chair, his mind spiraling. “But she was in my room… without permission…”

  ?He glanced at the sword on the bed. His teeth clenched. He bit down on his thumbnail until it bled.

  ?“No… If Father hears about this, he’ll find out everything…”

  ?Curling up, he buried his face in his hands. “What am I going to do…?”