The days grew shorter as winter tightened its grip on the castle. The snow outside lay deeper now, muffling the world in silence. For Sheenah and Leah, time passed in a strange rhythm—measured not by clocks, but by the slow turning of pages, the arrival of meals, and the rare, tense summons from the Duke.
It was on the third morning after their discovery in the library that everything changed.
Sheenah awoke to the sound of voices outside their chamber. She sat up, heart pounding, as the door swung open and Captain Aldric entered, flanked by two unfamiliar guards. His face was grave.
"Dress quickly. His Grace requires your presence in the council chamber. There's been… an incident."
Leah's eyes widened. "What kind of incident?"
Aldric's lips pressed into a thin line. "You'll see soon enough. Come."
They dressed in silence, nerves taut. As they followed Aldric through the winding halls, Sheenah noticed a tension in the air—a nervous energy, as if the whole castle was holding its breath. Servants hurried past with their heads down. Even the guards at the doors looked uneasy.
The council chamber was grand and cold, lit by tall windows and a roaring fire. The Duke stood at the head of a long table, surrounded by his advisors. Among them was a sharp-eyed woman in velvet, and a stooped old man who watched Sheenah and Leah with open suspicion.
On the table lay a book—one of the volumes they'd found in the library, its cover now scorched and curling at the edges.
The Duke's gaze was icy as he addressed them. "This morning, a fire broke out in the library. Several rare books were destroyed—including the one you found yesterday. My advisors believe it was no accident."
Sheenah's breath caught. "We had nothing to do with it, Your Grace. We would never—"
The woman in velvet cut her off, voice crisp. "You are outsiders, and you alone had access to that section. How do we know you didn't set the fire to cover your tracks?"
Leah stepped forward, fists clenched. "We're trying to help! Why would we destroy the only clues we have?"
The old man's voice was thin and reedy. "Magic leaves traces. The wards on the library were disturbed. Something unnatural is at work here."
The Duke studied Sheenah, his expression unreadable. "You say you came here by magic. You say you seek to break my curse. Yet every step you take brings more chaos. Why should I trust you?"
Sheenah's voice shook, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. "Because we're trapped, too. Because we want to go home. And because I believe your story isn't finished. Please—let us try to help."
A heavy silence fell. The council murmured among themselves, but the Duke raised a hand for silence.
"Very well. You will continue your research—but under stricter supervision. Captain Aldric will remain with you at all times. And if anything else happens, you will answer for it."
Sheenah nodded, relief and dread mingling in her chest. "Thank you, Your Grace."
They were escorted from the chamber and led back to the library. The smell of smoke lingered in the air, and several shelves were blackened and empty. Aldric watched them closely as they searched for new leads, but Sheenah's mind kept returning to the fire. Who would want to destroy the evidence? Was someone else trying to keep the secrets of the curse hidden?
That afternoon, as Leah pored over a book of ancient spells, Sheenah wandered to a quiet corner of the library. There, tucked behind a row of dusty atlases, she found a hidden alcove. A single chair faced a narrow window, and beside it sat a journal bound in plain leather.
Sheenah opened it, her breath catching as she recognized the handwriting—delicate, slanted, and unmistakably feminine. The entries were dated years apart, written by someone who had lived in the castle long before their arrival.
The Duke grows colder each year. I fear for him. The curse is stronger than any of us guessed. I have tried every charm, every prayer, but nothing breaks the ice in his heart. If only he would let someone in…
Sheenah's heart ached as she read. The journal was filled with accounts of failed rituals, desperate hopes, and quiet moments of kindness—the story of someone who had loved the Duke, perhaps even tried to save him.
She copied several passages into her own notebook, then tucked the journal back in its hiding place. When she returned to Leah, she shared what she'd found.
"It's proof," Sheenah whispered. "Someone else tried to help him. Someone who cared."
Leah's eyes shone with hope. "Maybe we're not alone in this. Maybe we just need to find the right way."
That evening, as they walked back to their chamber under Aldric's watchful eye, Sheenah felt a subtle shift in the castle's atmosphere. The staff seemed more wary, the guards more tense. Rumors of the fire spread quickly, and Sheenah caught snippets of conversation—whispers about curses, outsiders, and the dangers of meddling with fate.
Back in their room, Leah curled up on the bed, exhausted. Sheenah sat by the window, the midnight-blue book open in her lap. She traced the blank pages, thinking of the journal, the fire, and the Duke's haunted eyes.
She whispered to the darkness, "If you're still listening—if there's any magic left—show me what I need to do."
As the moon rose, casting silver light over the snowy courtyard, Sheenah felt a flicker of something deep within her—a thread of hope, fragile but unbroken. She didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but she knew she couldn't give up.
Not when the story was still unfolding. Not when the Duke's fate—and her own—hung in the balance.