The early morning dragged over Volcrist like a heavy shadow. The silence in the corridors was broken only by the distant howl of the northern winds and the occasional crackling of torches burning on the stone walls. Lilith, however, found no rest.

  After leaving her chambers, she walked through the castle with light steps, her golden eyes alert to every shadow. Her destination was clear, even if she refused to admit it to herself. Her body moved on its own, guided by the unrest that refused to quiet.

  When she reached the upper wing, she saw the heavy, silent black oak doors guarding the one who occupied her thoughts. The sleeping prince.

  Lilith hesitated for a moment. She touched the cold wood with her fingers and felt the subtle pulse of her own magic. On the other side, Aemon remained unmoving, trapped in a deep slumber since the war had ended. Something within her whispered that he wasn’t merely sleeping. Something was happening inside him.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  She pushed the doors open slowly. The interior of the room was dim, lit only by a single candle on the table beside the bed. The air carried the scent of medicinal herbs and the ancient dampness of stone. And there, in the center, he was.

  Aemon lay on the bed like a statue forgotten by the gods. His breathing was slow, almost imperceptible. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, but his skin remained pale, as if life itself was trapped somewhere beyond mortal reach.

  Lilith stepped closer, her eyes analyzing every detail. The wounds had healed, but the marks of battle remained etched into him. A new energy surrounded him—subtle, but present.

  She slid her fingers down his arm, feeling a warmth unlike before. It was as if Aemon’s essence was shifting. It wasn’t natural.

  Something was changing him.

  Lilith furrowed her brow. Her mind raced through every possibility, every answer she could seek. There was something in this castle—something that could explain what was happening.

  The hidden library.

  Her eyes lit up with determination.

  Volcrist harbored secrets, and if she wanted to understand what Aemon was becoming, she would have to unearth them.