The carriage slowed as it crossed the gates,
wheels grinding over uneven gravel.
Beyond the iron bars, the estate came into view again-
vast, silent, its walls too high to look past.

No sound came from inside. No movement at the windows.
It was a house that kept its secrets.

Cael leaned back, arms folded with a faint smile still hanging on his mouth.

“That was a nice outing, don’t you think?”

Anastia sat across from him, posture steady, eyes unfixed on anything at all.

She hadn't moved much since they left the market,
her silence giving the impression of someone not even caught in thought.

“I don’t know.”

She said at last. Her answer was flat, unpolished.
She didn’t try to make it fit.

Cael studied her profile for a beat.
Then the smile tugged, faint as before.

“Well. Until next time, then.”

The carriage rolled through the gates and slowed to stop.
Servants moved quickly to open the doors, bowing low.

Anastia stepped down without hesitation and walked inside.

---

Her room was the same as she had left it.
The blank walls. The blank bed.
Everything had always been blank.

She lay down and stared upward.
The ceiling was still, as always.

She thought of the outing.
The crowd. The voices.
The way gazes pressed into her skin, too sharp, too curious.
Different place, different faces- yet the same weight followed.

Her hand shifted slightly on the sheet.
Then she let it go.

But she did not move.
She simply looked at the ceiling again.

As still as always.

---

Cael walked the corridor lined with dark wood.
The Duke was waiting, seated behind his desk, papers scattered like discarded orders.

Cael placed his own report down.

“The outing went smoothly. But the rumors have spread.”

The Duke’s eyes lifted, sharp.

“The royal family knows,” Cael continued.

“The Crown Prince seems to have taken an interest. More than what is convenient.”

“Expected.”

The Duke’s reply was clipped, his tone as cold as ever.

Cael only inclined his head with the ease of one long accustomed to it,
then set another set of folded papers across the desk.
It was thinner than the others, but carried more weight.

It was what the Duke asked for- the record of her.

He opened it, eyes flicking down the lines.

Child Weapon. Conditioned. Used. Discarded.

The silence stretched, iron and unbending.
Finally, the Duke’s voice cut through.

“I will look into it myself.”

He stood, cloak trailing as he stepped into the corridor.

---

Not far way,
Anastia walked the hall, hands at her sides, gaze forward.

She walked because silence had to be filled until the next command.

A maid turned the corner with a tray in her hand.
Her eyes widened after looking at Anastia, fingers trembling-
The glass slid.

It shattered against the stone, water spreading into a dark stain.

The maid's voice broke as she dropped to her knees, bowing low.

“I.. I’m sorry.. please forgive me..”

Anastia stopped.
Her eyes fixed on the mess.

It was only a glass.
Why was the woman kneeling?
Why was she trembling, as if a life could end over water on the floor?

Anastia felt nothing.
The divide between what was ordinary and what was not meant little to her.
She only recorded what was before her.

The Duke’s steps sounded from behind.
The maid lowered even further, her voice shaking.

“Forgive me, Your Grace, I’ll clean it..”

Relief flickered across her trembling frame at his presence-
cold as he was, he was not Anastia.

He didn’t answer her.
His eyes went to Anastia.

“Come with me.”

The words cut sharp, leaving no space for refusal.

Anastia stepped forward, following without a word.

The echo of their footsteps swallowed the hall,
carrying her toward what was unseen..