The next morning dawned with a brittle chill, the kind that seemed to seep through the castle's ancient stones and settle in Sheenah's bones. She lay awake long before sunrise, staring at the ceiling, her mind replaying the events of the last few days in a constant, dizzying loop. Leah was still asleep, her breaths slow and even, but Sheenah could sense the tension that lingered in the air between them—an unspoken fear that neither dared voice aloud.
When Maya arrived with breakfast, Sheenah greeted her with a tired smile. "Thank you, Maya. Did you… did you hear anything? About us?"
Maya shook her head, her eyes darting to the door. "Nothing new. Some of the staff are curious, but most are just afraid. The Duke has a reputation for being harsh with outsiders, especially now."
Sheenah nodded, her appetite gone. "We'll try not to cause trouble."
After Maya left, Sheenah and Leah dressed quickly, bracing themselves for another day of searching. The library had become their only sanctuary—a place where the outside world seemed to pause, where hope flickered between the dust motes and the scent of old parchment.
Captain Aldric met them at the door, his expression unreadable as always. "Ready?" he asked.
Sheenah nodded, clutching the midnight-blue book to her chest. "As ready as we'll ever be."
The walk to the library was silent, save for the echo of their footsteps. When they entered, Sheenah felt a familiar sense of awe. The shelves stretched endlessly, filled with knowledge, secrets, and—she hoped—answers.
They split up, each taking a different aisle. Sheenah wandered through the stacks, her fingers trailing over spines, searching for anything that might connect her world to this one. She found books on history, magic, and ancient legends, but nothing that explained the portal or the vanishing words in her book.
Leah called out softly from the next row. "Sheenah, come look at this."
Sheenah hurried over. Leah had found a slim volume bound in faded red leather. The title was written in a language Sheenah didn't recognize, but the illustrations inside were clear: swirling portals, figures stepping between worlds, strange symbols glowing in the air.
Sheenah's heart raced. "This… this might be it. A record of other crossings."
Leah nodded, excitement lighting her face for the first time in days. "Maybe we're not the first."
They pored over the book together, piecing together meaning from the pictures and the few words they could decipher. It seemed to describe rare moments when the boundaries between worlds grew thin—always under a blue moon, always with some catalyst: a magical object, a powerful wish, a great sorrow.
Sheenah looked down at the midnight-blue book in her hands. "Maybe this is our catalyst. Maybe… maybe the story isn't finished yet because we're supposed to finish it."
Leah frowned. "But how? The book is blank. We can't write in it, can we?"
Sheenah shook her head. "I don't know. But maybe the answer isn't in the book now. Maybe it's in what we do next."
A sudden noise made them both jump. Captain Aldric stood at the end of the aisle, his arms crossed. "You've been here for hours. His Grace wishes to see you."
Sheenah's stomach twisted with nerves. "Did he say why?"
Aldric shook his head. "He rarely does. Come."
They followed him through the castle's winding halls, the air growing colder as they approached the Duke's chambers. When they entered, the Duke was standing by the window, his back to them, staring out at the snow-covered grounds.
He turned slowly, his expression as unreadable as ever. "You've been searching my library," he said. "Have you found what you're looking for?"
Sheenah hesitated. "We found a book about portals—about people crossing between worlds. It mentions a blue moon, and a magical object. I think… I think that's how we got here."
The Duke's eyes narrowed. "And you believe you can use this knowledge to return home?"
Sheenah glanced at Leah, then back at the Duke. "I hope so. But I think there's more to it. The book that brought us here—it's blank now. Maybe it's waiting for something. Maybe it's waiting for us to change the story."
The Duke studied her for a long moment. "You speak as if you have a choice. As if fate is something you can bargain with."
Sheenah straightened her shoulders. "Maybe we can. Maybe that's the point."
He looked away, his voice softer. "I have spent my life fighting fate. It has never once listened."
Leah stepped forward, her voice gentle. "Maybe it's not about fighting fate. Maybe it's about understanding it. About finding the part of the story that's yours to change."
The Duke was silent for a moment, then gestured to the chairs by the fire. "Sit. Tell me what you found."
They sat, and Sheenah explained what they'd pieced together from the red book: the blue moon, the thinning of the boundaries, the need for a catalyst. She spoke of the old man who'd given her the midnight-blue book, of his cryptic words about magic and belief.
The Duke listened intently, his gaze never leaving her face. When she finished, he was quiet for a long time.
"Magic is not well understood here," he said finally. "Most fear it. Some seek to control it. But it is rare to find those who trust it enough to let it lead."
Sheenah nodded. "The old man said something like that. He told me to let the magic guide my life. To believe in it, even when it seems impossible."
The Duke's lips twitched in a faint, almost wistful smile. "A dangerous philosophy. But perhaps the only one left to us."
He stood, moving to the window. Snow was falling outside, soft and silent. "You may continue your research. If you find anything—anything at all—that could help, bring it to me. I will do the same."
Sheenah felt a surge of hope. "Thank you, Your Grace."
He nodded, his gaze distant. "Do not thank me yet. There are forces in this castle that do not wish for change. Be careful."
Aldric escorted them back to the library, but now the air between them and the Duke had shifted. It was not trust, not yet—but it was something closer to understanding.
They spent the rest of the day searching, reading, making notes. Sheenah felt a new energy in her veins—a sense that the story was moving, that they were not just trapped but chosen.
That night, as they returned to their chamber, Leah flopped onto the bed, exhausted but smiling. "We're getting somewhere, Sheenah. I can feel it."
Sheenah sat by the window, the midnight-blue book open in her lap. She traced the empty pages, whispering a silent promise: I will find a way. For both of us. For the Duke. For the story.
Outside, the snow continued to fall, blanketing the castle in silence. But inside, in the quiet of their room, hope was stirring—fragile, persistent, and very much alive.