The carriage slowed.
Then stopped.
Silence followed—heavy, deliberate.
When the door opened, pale sunlight spilled inside, revealing towering white stone walls and spires that pierced the sky. The palace stood like a monument to power—grand, immaculate, and utterly unforgiving.
A butler waited outside.
He was tall, rigid, dressed in black and silver, his posture so perfect it felt unnatural. Without a word, he stepped forward and placed two briefcases inside the carriage.
"From the king," he said flatly.
The scientists stiffened.
Immediately, they moved.
Chains were unlocked. Runes deactivated. Dampeners peeled away one by one. The cuffs fell to the floor with dull metallic thuds, and for the first time in what felt like forever—
She was unbound.
No restraints.
No seals.
Only the dark rose tattoo resting against her neck, stark and unmistakable.
And the faded infinity symbol along her thigh—so faint now that only someone searching for it would ever notice.
She stood slowly.
Free… yet not.
The butler turned and gestured for her to follow. As she stepped out of the carriage, he handed her a small bag.
"The king requests that you change into this."
They walked through the palace gardens.
White stone paths. Perfectly trimmed hedges. Rows upon rows of roses in full bloom.
And then—
Her vision blurred.
For a heartbeat, the world shifted.
The roses darkened—petals black as ink. The sky dimmed, light draining away as if swallowed whole. The air grew cold, heavy with something ancient.
Then it snapped back.
Color returned. Light resumed. The roses were red again.
She didn't stop walking.
She was used to it now.
Inside the palace, she was led to a quiet room—elegant, minimal, carefully curated. Alone, she changed.
The clothes were simple, yet deliberate. Dark fabric. Clean lines. Nothing ornate—nothing accidental. When she finished, she stood before the mirror.
She barely recognized herself.
The black rose at her neck stood out sharply against her skin—beautiful in a way that felt wrong. The infinity symbol had faded further, nearly hidden.
She touched the glass with trembling fingers.
Then her strength failed her.
She slid down until she was sitting on the floor, knees drawn close, shoulders shaking. No sound at first—just silent tears falling one after another.
"…Zane."
She whispered his name once.
That was all she could manage.
A knock echoed through the room.
Soft. Controlled.
A woman's voice followed—calm, practiced, unreadable.
"Please be quick," she said.
"The king is waiting for you."