I woke up in an unknown room. The chambers were dimly lit, the soft glow of enchanted sconces casting gentle shadows on the stone walls. I distinctly remember being in a tent the last time we talked. Now, I was in a spacious room, intricately decorated with tapestries and carved furniture, the bed far larger and more luxurious than any I’d ever slept in. It took me a moment to process the change.

Beside me, the Grand Duke lay asleep, his features softened in slumber. He looked almost peaceful, a stark contrast to the hardened expression he usually wore. I blinked twice and rubbed my eyes, but the sight didn’t change. He was here, beside me, in a room I didn’t recognize.

I reached out instinctively, wanting to touch his hair, to make sure he was real and not some figment of my imagination. But before I could, his hand shot out, grabbing my wrist with a grip like iron. I gasped, my heart leaping into my throat as his eyes snapped open, alert and wary. He released me almost immediately, his expression melting into one of relief.

“Thank goodness you’re awake,” he said, sitting up beside me, his voice laced with worry.

“Pardon?” I asked, disoriented. Then it clicked. I had seen one of Sophie’s old memories—a vision from her past. I had been asleep for who knows how long. I held my forehead, feeling the lingering ache from the vision. “How long this time?”

“Three days and two nights,” he replied quietly. “I was about to summon an Arch Mage if you didn’t wake up today.”

Three days. The time I lost still shook me. I slowly swung my legs off the bed, feeling a wave of dizziness crash over me. The room tilted, and before I could catch myself, the Grand Duke was there, his arm around my waist, steadying me. His hold was firm but gentle, a silent promise that he wouldn’t let me fall.

I closed my eyes, focusing on my breathing until the vertigo subsided. “It’s fine now, Grand Duke,” I muttered, trying to step away. But he didn’t let go, his hand still resting on my waist.

I looked up at him, meeting his gaze. His eyes were a storm of emotions—relief, concern, and something else I couldn’t quite place. He held me there, as if afraid that if he let go, I might disappear again.

“We need to get you ready,” he said finally, his voice dropping to a softer, almost hesitant tone. “The ceremony is today. The Arch Mage will bestow mana upon you.”

My stomach twisted into knots. I had heard about this ceremony, a ritual that sounded almost mystical, but I had no idea what to expect. The idea of receiving mana—magic—felt like something out of a fantasy novel. But here, in this world, it was real. And it was happening to me.

“Are you nervous?” he asked, his voice unexpectedly gentle.

I bit my lip and nodded. “A little,” I admitted.

He gave me a small, apologetic smile, one that softened the usual stern lines of his face. “You’ll be fine,” he said, his tone reassuring. “Like I said before, I wish I could go with you, but I’ve been summoned to an urgent meeting with the Emperor.”

“Oh,” I replied, trying not to let the disappointment show. I hadn’t realized how much I’d wanted him there, even if just for a comforting presence.

“I’m sorry,” he added, squeezing my hand briefly before letting go. “I promise, I’ll come find you as soon as I can.”

I nodded, forcing a smile. “It’s okay. I’ll manage.”

“You’re stronger than you think,” he said, his gaze warm and encouraging. “Just trust yourself.”

And with that, he gave a final nod before turning away, leaving me alone at the threshold of the unknown ritual.

       I stood before the imposing entrance of the Arch Mage’s Tower, my breath catching at the sight. The tower stretched high into the sky, a gleaming, spiraling structure of white stone and intricate silver carvings that shimmered in the light. Arcane symbols danced along the surface, shifting and changing as if they were alive. This place felt ancient, and powerful—like stepping into a living relic of a forgotten era.

Two guards flanked the entrance, clad in ceremonial armor with enchanted runes glowing softly along their sleeves. They had already oriented me about the guidelines of the procession, warning me not to help anyone along the way, no matter what I saw. One of them handed me a small bottle of water, the glass etched with a protection sigil.

"Well, the entrance is ready, my lady," the guard on the left said with a respectful nod.

I took a deep breath and nodded back, stepping past them and into the tower’s entrance. As the heavy doors closed behind me with a resonant thud, a sense of isolation washed over me. The noise of the outside world fell away, replaced by the soft hum of magic vibrating through the air.

And then I saw it.

The staircase.

It was a hellish sight—an endless, winding spiral of stone steps disappearing into the darkness above. My heart sank. This was going to be brutal.

“Oh, dang it,” I muttered under my breath.

After climbing what felt like fifty steps, I was already gasping for air. The weight of my dress—a cumbersome, layered gown in white silk—clung to me like a second skin, dragging me down with every step. The air was thick with the faint scent of ancient incense and magic, making it harder to breathe. My legs burned with every upward push, and I could feel the sweat beading on my forehead.

I paused to catch my breath, taking a small sip from the water bottle. The liquid was cool, refreshing, almost unnaturally so. I had to ration it; I knew the climb was far from over.

As I continued, strange things began to happen. Whispers echoed softly around me, voices calling out my name. Shadows danced at the edges of my vision, and for a moment, I saw the figure of a small boy sitting on the steps ahead, crying.

I froze, staring at him. He looked so real—his clothes ragged, his face buried in his hands. But as I stepped closer, I noticed his body seemed... translucent. Goosebumps prickled my skin.

It’s just an illusion, I reminded myself, shivering. Don’t help anyone. Just like the guards and the Grand Duke said.

I forced myself to walk past him, my steps hurried, refusing to look back. The whispers grew louder, a cacophony of pleading voices, but I pressed on, determined not to get trapped in their illusions.

“H-Help me…” a broken voice called out.

I stopped, nearly stumbling. This time, it was a man, lying sprawled on the steps, his chest heaving as if he could barely breathe. His long black hair was tangled, obscuring his face. Unlike the boy from earlier, he looked disturbingly real. I hesitated, biting my lip. The guards’ warning echoed in my mind—don’t help anyone. But something about this man seemed different, solid. Could he be real?

He groaned, clutching his side as if in pain. “I can’t… breathe…”

I cursed under my breath. This is so frustrating. What if he was one of the other participants? They did say another person was undergoing the ceremony today. Could this be him, collapsed from exhaustion?

“I’m so dead if the Grand Duke finds out about this,” I muttered, shaking my head. Against my better judgment, I hurried over and knelt beside him. He was warm, solid—real. I slipped his arm over my shoulder, grunting as I hefted him up. He was heavier than I expected, his body sagging against mine.

“You owe me big time, mister,” I said, struggling to support his weight as we continued up the stairs.

His breathing was ragged, but he managed a weak chuckle. “Thank you, my lady…”

We climbed together, step by painstaking step. The air grew colder as we ascended, the walls narrowing around us. There were no windows, no way to tell how far we’d come or how much was left. It felt like time had stopped in this place.

“My lady, we can take a b-break from here,” he panted, barely able to speak.

I glanced around and spotted a small ledge jutting out from the wall—a rare, flat surface where we could sit. I gently lowered him down, and he slumped against the stone, eyes closed. I handed him my nearly empty water bottle.

“But my lady, this is yours,” he protested, trying to hand it back.

I pushed it back towards him. “It’s alright. You need it more than I do.”

He hesitated, then took a grateful sip. I finally had a moment to look at him properly. His long hair fell over his face, but he seemed young, maybe in his early twenties. Despite the exhaustion etched on his features, there was a rugged handsomeness to him. I couldn’t help but wonder what his story was.

“So, what’s your name?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation light.

“My name is Sebas, my lady.”

“Sebas, as in short for Sebastian?” I raised an eyebrow.

He nodded, avoiding my gaze shyly. “Yes.”

I watched him for a moment, curious. “What brings you to the tower today, Sebas? Why are you doing this ritual?”

He sighed, leaning back against the wall. “I used up all my mana fighting in the northern kingdom. I needed to replenish it before I could return home. It’s been years since I last saw my family. I left when I was just a teenager.”

I felt a pang of sympathy. “So, after this, you’ll go back home?”

“That’s the plan,” he said with a weak smile. “But the battle took a toll on me. I barely made it this far.”

“At least you’re doing this for a good reason,” I said, patting his back gently. “Your family will be proud to see you return safe and sound.”

He chuckled, though it sounded hollow. “I highly doubt that, my lady.”

I frowned. “Don’t be so pessimistic, Sebas. They’ll welcome you with open arms.”

He didn’t respond right away, just gave me a strange look, as if he wanted to say something but thought better of it. Instead, he asked, “My lady, may I know which house you belong to? And your name?”

I hesitated. The House of Griffith was well-known, and I could tell he recognized the name even before I answered. But something about his earnest gaze made me trust him, despite the strange circumstances.

“I’m Grand Duchess Sophia Grace Rosewood-Griffith,” I said with a sigh. “From the House of Griffith.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Oh, so you must be the infamous wife of Grand Duke Elliot Griffith?”

I scoffed. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Sebas looked as if he wanted to laugh but held back. “Forgive me, my lady, but it sounds like you don’t think too highly of him.”

“What’s there to like?” I muttered. “People only care about his looks, riches, and power.”

Sebas’ chuckle made me realize how unladylike I must have sounded. But I found myself grinning despite it. This was the first time in a while I could speak freely, without the weight of noble expectations.

“Well, my lady,” Sebas said softly, looking at me with something like admiration in his eyes. “What is it that you want to do?”

The question caught me off guard. What did I want? So many dreams flitted through my mind—painting, singing, traveling the world. But every time, the face of the real Sophie Griffith flashed before me, urging me to fulfill something she had left unfinished.

I shook off the melancholy and stood up, pulling Sebas to his feet. “We can’t waste any more time. Let’s keep moving.”

“Yes, my lady,” he agreed, his voice filled with a new resolve.

Together, we continued the climb, step by step, towards whatever awaited us at the top of the Arch Mage’s Tower.

   Sebas seemed to be doing better now. Although he was able to walk on his own, he often stumbled from dizziness. I stayed close, catching him when he nearly fell, and each time he flashed a grateful but almost playful smile as if embarrassed by his weakness.

“So, your relationship with your husband isn’t that great?” Sebas suddenly asked, his voice casual and oddly informal.

“Wow, you’re talking to me informally now?” I teased him, arching an eyebrow. “I like this new attitude, Sebas.”

He chuckled softly, a surprisingly warm sound. “My apologies, my lady. Should I continue speaking informally, or revert to formality?”

“It’s alright, talk informally with me. I prefer it,” I replied with a smile.

He gave a mock bow, his usual elegance softened by a playful smirk. “As you wish. Now, back to my question?”

I hesitated, studying him for a moment. There was something about Sebas—a sense of nobility and kindness that made me feel like I could trust him. It was almost as if I’d known him before, or maybe Sophie had.

“Yes,” I admitted quietly. “We’re not a great couple. That’s why I’m eager to find a way out of this marriage.”

“And what’s your plan?” He leaned closer, genuinely curious.

“This lady can sing, draw, design, and write stories. I could start my own business,” I said cheerfully, lifting my chin with pride.

“You’re certainly confident,” he remarked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. His expression was amused, but there was an unmistakable admiration in his eyes.

“But—” I hesitated, suddenly unsure of how to continue.

“But?” His teasing tone faded, replaced by a gentle concern.

“I still need to uncover certain truths and remember my past,” I said softly. “I made a promise to someone, and I intend to fulfill it before I can leave the Griffith house.”

A brief silence fell between us. He seemed uncertain how to respond, so instead, he simply patted my head, a gesture so tender it caught me off guard.

“May I ask another serious question, my lady?”

“Go ahead.”

“Why are you so eager to escape this marriage? Does it feel uncomfortable to be married to Grand Duke Griffith?”

I hesitated again, looking away as I tried to form the right words. I wanted to tell him everything—that it wasn’t the marriage itself I wanted to escape, but the life of a Grand Duchess. This wasn’t the life I’d chosen, and I felt trapped by the expectations that came with it. I longed for a simpler life, one where I could rely on my skills and live freely.

“My lady, are you alright?” Sebas’ voice broke through my thoughts.

I realized I had been staring blankly, lost in my mind. “I’m fine, thank you. I just don’t know how to answer your question right now.”

He bowed his head slightly. “Forgive me. It seems I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s alright,” I assured him. “I just… don’t have an answer yet.”

He gave a nod of understanding. “Then, shall we continue?”