The night air was cold, brushing softly against Ella's skin as she stood in the garden, clutching Lyra's silver ribbon in her hand. The moon hung low, bright and lonely, casting silver light over the castle walls. The air smelled of roses, damp earth, and rain — but beneath it all, Ella could sense something darker, something alive.
Her best friend was here.
Or had been.
Lyra — the girl who once laughed beside her in the marketplace, who used to braid her hair and dream of adventure — was now somewhere inside this castle of secrets.
Ella's chest tightened. Why had Lyra come here in secret?
The echo of laughter she had heard still lingered in her mind. It was soft, almost familiar… but twisted somehow, as though two voices had spoken at once — one human, one not.
She tucked the ribbon safely into her pocket and whispered, "I'll find you, Lyra. Whatever this means."
Inside the castle, the corridors were empty and echoing. A few torches burned low, their flames trembling like frightened hearts. The castle at night always felt different — colder, quieter, and full of whispers that didn't belong to the living.
As Ella made her way toward her chamber, a shadow passed across the far end of the hall. She froze.
It wasn't a person. It was something else — something tall and thin, with long, misty arms that brushed against the walls like smoke.
Her instincts screamed to run, but she stood still. The creature's head turned slowly, though it had no face — only two glowing eyes like dying embers.
It whispered her name.
"Ellllaaa…"
Her pulse raced. She raised her hand and spoke a word of light — one she had learned from Master Arcturus. A golden spark flared from her palm, bright enough to fill the corridor. The shadow recoiled, shrieking in a soundless cry, and then melted into the floor like ink in water.
Ella staggered back, her heart hammering.
"That wasn't just a ghost," she whispered. "That was a warning."
She hurried the rest of the way to her room, bolting the door behind her. For a moment, she simply sat on her bed, trying to calm her shaking hands.
The ribbon in her pocket felt warm, as if it were alive.
She took it out and looked closer. Strange runes glimmered faintly along the edges — symbols she had never seen before. When she brushed her thumb over one of them, the air shimmered, and a small illusion appeared above her palm: Lyra's face.
"Ella," the image whispered, her voice distant and trembling, "if you find this, it means I've failed to keep my promise. They're watching me. Don't trust—"
The message cut off. The illusion flickered, and the ribbon went cold again.
Ella stared in shock. "Don't trust who?"
Her chest tightened. Lyra was in danger — or worse, already trapped by the same darkness that had once possessed the King and Queen.
The next morning, Ella found Master Arcturus waiting for her in the library. He looked tired, as though he hadn't slept in days.
"You saw something again, didn't you?" he asked, reading her face.
Ella nodded. "The shadows are growing stronger. I think they're coming for me now."
Arcturus sighed deeply. "That means the darkness is aware of you. It knows you're searching for the Heartstone."
Ella hesitated, then pulled the ribbon from her pocket. "And someone else might be caught in it too. My friend Lyra — she's here. I found this last night in the garden."
Arcturus took the ribbon carefully, his eyes narrowing as he studied the faint runes. "These markings… they're binding sigils. Very old. Whoever placed them was trying to hide her — or control her."
Ella's stomach dropped. "Control her?"
He nodded grimly. "It seems your friend may be under the influence of the Shadowmark."
"No," Ella said, shaking her head. "Lyra would never let that happen."
Arcturus's voice softened. "Magic that feeds on fear can twist even the strongest hearts, Ella. It doesn't ask permission — it finds the cracks and seeps through."
Ella clenched her fists. "Then I'll find her and free her."
"You can try," Arcturus said, "but you'll need to be careful. The Heartstone's trail will lead you deeper into danger. The first clue lies in the Hall of Echoes — below the castle."
Ella frowned. "I didn't know the castle had a hall below it."
"That's because it's been sealed for centuries," Arcturus said. "But if anyone can open it… it's you."
That night, armed with only a small lamp and her courage, Ella descended into the hidden depths of the castle.
The entrance was hidden behind a tapestry in one of the lower corridors. When she pushed it aside, she found a narrow staircase curling down into darkness. Cold air rushed up from below, carrying the scent of stone and time.
Her lamp flickered as she descended. The steps seemed endless, and the deeper she went, the stronger the hum of magic became — deep, rhythmic, like a heartbeat.
At the bottom, she reached a heavy iron door carved with strange markings. When she touched it, the symbols glowed softly — the same crescent shape that marked her wrist. The door groaned open, and she stepped inside.
The Hall of Echoes was vast and beautiful, though broken by time. Stone pillars rose like trees, and faint lights danced between them like trapped spirits. Along the walls, dozens of ancient mirrors hung, cracked and covered in dust.
Her voice echoed softly. "Hello?"
For a moment, there was only silence. Then one of the mirrors shimmered — and Lyra's reflection appeared.
Ella gasped. "Lyra!"
Lyra's reflection smiled faintly, but her eyes were strange — too bright, too sharp. "You came," she said softly. "You shouldn't have."
Ella took a step closer. "Where are you? What's happening to you?"
Lyra tilted her head. "I told you not to trust them, didn't I? But it's too late now."
"Too late for what?"
Lyra's reflection lifted her hand — and the mirror's surface rippled. The air in the room changed. Cold wind rushed through the hall, and shadows spilled out of the mirrors like smoke.
Ella stepped back, heart racing. "Lyra, stop!"
But Lyra's reflection only smiled wider, her voice echoing from every corner of the hall. "You don't understand, Ella. I'm not your enemy. I'm the key."
The shadows lunged at Ella. She raised her hands, summoning light. A burst of golden fire shot from her palms, striking the closest one and scattering it like dust. But more came, clawing and whispering in voices that weren't human.
She fought with everything she had — wind, fire, and light. The air burned with energy. But there were too many.
Then, just as she stumbled, a voice rang through the hall — strong and clear.
"Enough!"
The mirrors shattered all at once. The shadows screamed and vanished. Ella fell to her knees, gasping for breath.
When she looked up, Maeve stood in the center of the hall, her cloak billowing with power. Her green eyes glowed in the dim light.
"Maeve?" Ella breathed. "How did you find me?"
Maeve smiled faintly. "You think I'd let you wander into a cursed hall alone?"
She helped Ella to her feet. "You're brave — but reckless."
Ella managed a weak smile. "You sound like Arcturus."
Maeve's expression softened. "Arcturus taught you well. But there are things he hasn't told you."
Ella frowned. "What do you mean?"
Maeve glanced at the broken mirrors. "Your friend Lyra — she isn't just a victim. She's connected to the Shadowmark. When you first awakened your power, the darkness reached for you… but it found her instead. It's using her to get to you."
Ella's throat tightened. "Then I have to save her."
Maeve nodded. "You can. But to do that, you'll need the Heartstone. And now we know where to look."
Maeve pointed to the center of the room, where the shattered mirrors had revealed a large, round seal on the floor. At its center was a carving — a crescent moon crossed by a star.
"The seal of Arindale," Maeve said softly. "The Heartstone sleeps beneath this mark."
Ella knelt beside it, pressing her hand to the symbol. The stone was cold at first, then pulsed with warmth — matching the rhythm of her heartbeat. Light spread beneath her fingers, tracing glowing lines across the floor.
The seal cracked open with a deep, echoing sound.
Beneath it, a small pedestal rose, holding a crystal the size of her palm. It glowed with a soft blue light, pulsing like a living heart.
"The Heartstone," Ella whispered.
Maeve nodded, her expression unreadable. "Take it, Ella. It belongs to you."
Ella reached out, and as her fingers touched the crystal, a rush of warmth and vision flooded her mind. She saw her ancestors standing together beneath the same castle, sealing away a storm of darkness with their magic. She heard Ella's voice:
"Power is not light or dark. It is the heart that shapes it."
Tears stung Ella's eyes. She held the Heartstone close, feeling its power settle inside her like a second heartbeat.
Maeve's gaze softened. "You've done well. But remember — every light casts a shadow. Now that you hold the Heartstone, the darkness will come for you harder than ever."
Ella nodded firmly. "Let it come."
As they climbed the stairs back toward the surface, the mist outside the castle began to move, swirling faster, darker, alive with hunger.
Somewhere in the distance, Lyra's voice whispered through the wind:
"Find me, Ella… before it's too late."