The shadows are long.
As if the very walls are afraid to touch the light.
I walk behind her—the maid.
My steps are heavy, and everything in the palace groans beneath them.
The floors, the columns, even the doors…
They don't creak.
They mourn.
As if the spirits trapped within no longer know the difference between the dead and the living.
But I do.
I am alive—
Even if I'm no longer entirely human.
**
The long corridor ends at a back gate.
Rusty.
Above it, the symbol of our bloodline is etched with care…
Its corners scorched, as if someone tried to burn away its glory from the root.
She opens it quietly and speaks without looking at me:
"You won't live long if you stay here."
I watch her hand…
Still gripping the dagger.
Stained with blood.
But she doesn't wipe it clean.
As if she knows—
There's no shame in what she's done.
I step through the gate.
The outside is cold.
It bears no resemblance to the warmth of the bloodied hall.
The night air is like knives—
Slipping into my lungs with violence,
Reminding me that my body… is no longer what it was.
Every breath… brings a new shift.
She walks along the stone path, and I follow.
The palace behind us,
The night ahead—
And nothing in between… but her and me.
"Did you know they were going to kill me?" I asked.
She didn't answer right away.
Then she said:
"I knew they'd try."
"And who are you, really?"
She stops.
Turns her face toward me—
And for the first time, I see her up close.
Her eyes are not normal.
One green.
The other a pale, ashen gray—
As if born from fire that refuses to die.
"My name is Kyna."
Her name leaves her lips like an old wound.
As if she spoke it only to remind herself she still exists.
"Why did you save me?"
"Because I was waiting for you."
"Since when?"
"Since the first stone of this palace fell."
**
We reach the rear garden—
Or what remains of it.
The trees are dead.
The flowers wilted.
The once-singing fountain now silenced,
Its stagnant water reflecting warped faces beneath the surface.
She stops at a statue—
A headless angel, holding a broken sword.
Kyna places her hand upon it and says:
"Tonight… was only the beginning."
I look at her.
There's something stored in her expression.
Not fear,
Not strength—
But a past far older than she should carry.
"There are those who've waited centuries for your bloodline to fall.
And now… your blood won't just be blood."
I feel it.
Reacting within me.
Shifting. Expanding.
As if seeking a new form.
"The ones who killed you…
were only pawns."
"And you? Who moves you?"
She laughs.
Short. Bitter.
"Me?" she says.
"I belong to no one anymore."
Then, softly—almost a whisper:
"But if you want to survive, you'll have to learn how to become a master…
Before you become prey again."
**
I ask:
"Where are we going now?"
"To where the truth begins."
"And where does it end?"
She looks at me—
Her eyes hold no answers.
Only a promise.
"When it ends…
you won't be the one asking that question."
**
She walks ahead.
And I follow.
The night slowly swallows us.
But this time, I do not fear the dark.
Because I…
was born from it.