"So, what are you planning to do?" Meg asked, her brow furrowed with concern.

"I will leave," Amara replied, determination flickering in her eyes.

"When?" Meg pressed, urgency in her voice.

"Tonight," Amara answered.

"Tonight? Do you really think you can manage to escape? They’ve chained you," Meg said, disbelief coloring her tone.

"What? This? Meg, this is nothing for me. The real problem is I need my magic stone to erase my existence," Amara stated, her voice steady.

"What is that? Does something like that even exist?" Meg questioned, her curiosity piqued.

"Yes, and it’s costly too. I have a friend who can help me escape if I get it," Amara explained.

"But haven’t they found everything you have? How can you retrieve it?" Meg countered, doubt creeping in.

"No, I actually hid it in our lady's room—in her dressing room. You need to get it for me, Meg. Then I can escape," Amara insisted.

"You want me to get it? Wait... okay... I’ll do it. Yes, I can, but where is it?" Meg asked, her resolve building.

"In her blue dress," Amara replied.

Meg nodded and hurried out the door, leaving Amara alone. She broke the chains binding her and walked to the window, gazing out into the night. "I’m tired of lying," she whispered, opening the locked drawer where the magic stone lay hidden. She had stashed it there for emergencies, knowing no one would suspect its presence in a room rarely used by her master. She was aware they would follow Meg, so she had deceived them. Yet, the thought of leaving brought a pang of sadness. "It’s always painful," she mumbled to herself.

She glanced into the mirror. "Coward, as always," she said, her reflection mocking her.

"I need to hurry. He’ll follow Meg; I have maybe ten minutes at most," she urged herself. 

Quickly, she approached the window, but suddenly the door swung open. Amara braced herself for a fight, ready to confront whatever came next— she didn’t care about death. "You! think—" she began, but her words died as she turned to see the boy standing there, his blue eyes strikingly familiar. Could it be true what Max had said? "No, it can't be," she thought, disbelief washing over her.

"You should leave," the boy said coldly, yet his palm was blood in it, 

Amara remained silent, her heart racing. "I know you will," he continued, his voice steady.

"I’m not your mother," Amara shot back, urgency pressing down on her.

Time was slipping away; she had to escape. She grasped the window ledge, ready to jump, but her body betrayed her, refusing to move. 

"I hope you die," the boy said, his tone chilling.

"I hope," Amara reply, though her body remained rooted.

"Useless woman," the boy whispered. Amara met his gaze, locking eyes with him.