When Lior arrived at the Archive, her eyes swept across the room with urgency, as if searching for something hidden in plain sight. Her gaze landed on the young man seated in his usual corner, immersed in his reading. Without hesitation, she strode toward him.
She slammed her palms onto the table, the sound echoing through the quiet hall. The sudden gesture startled everyone nearby—especially the Prince, who looked up at her, puzzled and slightly alarmed.
"I need a book," she said, her voice firm and direct.
The Prince furrowed his brow at her abruptness. He turned toward the bookshelves in front of him and reached for a volume, assuming she was simply looking for something to read.
But Lior's eyes narrowed. "I'm looking for a specific book," she clarified. "Since you're always here, I thought you might know where it is."
The Prince closed his book and turned to her, now fully attentive and starting to walk.
"What book?"
"A book of history," she replied.
At that, the Prince froze mid-step. Lior noticed his hesitation and stared at him, confused. "What?"
He shook his head and resumed walking, leading her to a section of the Archive filled with historical texts. Lior began pulling books from the shelves, flipping through each one with growing frustration. The Prince stood nearby, watching her with curiosity. Her intensity was palpable, and it felt as though she had forgotten he was even there.
Books began to pile up on the table, yet Lior continued her search. Occasionally, the Prince heard her sigh—deep, heavy, and filled with tension.
"Where is it…" she muttered under her breath, scanning each page for the elusive story.
Suddenly, the Prophecy reader arrived. The Prince bowed respectfully, but Lior remained focused, oblivious to the newcomer. Elthara gestured for the Prince to leave them, and he nodded, quietly exiting the room.
"What are you looking for, Lior?" Elthara asked.
Lior glanced up briefly. "A history," she replied.
"History? History of what?" Elthara asked, puzzled, as she looked at the growing stack of books.
Lior stopped flipping pages and turned to her, her expression serious. "The history of the Punished Princess."
Elthara's face changed instantly. She stopped scanning the books and looked around cautiously before grabbing Lior's arm and pulling her into a hidden chamber.
Inside, a vast space unfolded before them. At its center stood a large table—not meant for meals, but for revelation. A hologram of the entire kingdom shimmered above it, displaying every palace and hidden corridor. At the far end of the room, a smaller table held a glowing, floating book.
Elthara turned her back to Lior, her voice trembling. "How do you know about the Punished Princess?"
"My grandfather," Lior answered.
Elthara spun around and gripped Lior's arms tightly. "How does he know? That history is forbidden. Only a few know about it—and those who do are punished. It was meant to be forgotten. If the Lord King hears of this, you'll be condemned. You must forget it, Lior. For your own safety."
Lior's confusion deepened. Her grandfather had spoken of the Punished Princess many times, yet he had never been punished. He had died of old age, not by decree.
"You once asked me what I am," Lior said softly. "I don't fully know. But that history will tell me who I truly am."
Elthara's eyes searched hers, filled with questions. Before she could speak, Lior continued.
"You're the only person I'll tell this to. Not because I trust you—but because if this spreads, I could easily kill you."
Elthara stiffened.
"My grandfather told me everything," Lior began. "He said I would be the one to save her. I don't know how. That's all he said. I believed him. But lately… something's wrong. My power is fading. Every time I train, it weakens."
Elthara watched in silence as Lior transformed. Her true form emerged—long, radiant white hair, skin glowing like starlight, a dress woven of pure light. She looked divine. Elthara gasped. She had never seen anyone like this.
"This is the real me," Lior said. "But I had to change to survive in the world I grew up in."
She raised her hand, revealing black magic swirling in her palm. Elthara stepped back, stunned.
Lior waited. The silence stretched like eternity.
Finally, Elthara spoke. "Who are you?"
Lior closed her hand, hiding the magic, and approached the hologram table. "I need your help, Elthara. I need to restore my power."
Elthara paced, anxious. She turned toward the Prophecy, hoping it held answers.
"I'll return," Lior said, her voice hollow. "But next time, give me the story of the Punished Princess."
Elthara's expression darkened. "There is no book. It was never written—only spoken."
Lior's eyes widened. "Who?"
"No one knows."
Frustrated, Lior sighed and left the chamber. She walked straight out of the Archive.
She vanished, reappearing at the usual hangout where her friends waited. As she arrived, she let out a scream of frustration, startling them.
"What's wrong?" Keal asked, alarmed.
They had known Lior for years, but never seen her like this. Her eyes glowed with a strange force—unfamiliar, powerful, and unsettling.
Minutes passed before she calmed down, collapsing to the ground. Her friends heard her soft sobs. Tears streamed down her face.
They didn't ask. They simply let her cry. Kira wrapped her arms around her, holding her close.
They knew Lior—lively, radiant, strong. She never cried unless the weight was unbearable. They sensed her pain, even if she didn't speak of it.
Hours passed. Finally, Lior whispered, "Thank you…" and wiped her cheeks.
"There's just… a lot in me these past few days. I don't know what to do," she said, her voice fragile. "But don't worry. I'll tell you when the time is right."
Her friends nodded, understanding without words.
Later, as they sat together, Lior spoke again—calm now, as if she hadn't cried.
"I spoke with the leader. He said we need to finish the mission soon. Something happened…"
"What?" Thorne asked, curious.
"When I got home, Papa told me the castle's light had returned—as if someone was there. When they investigated, they felt the King's power… calling."
Her friends exchanged worried glances.
"This isn't right," Kira said. "We need to act now."
They all nodded. It had happened once before—the castle's light returning like a memory. But this time, it wasn't just a message.
It was a call for rescue.
As the moon ascended over the kingdom, its silver light spilled across the Archive's ancient stones, bathing the forgotten chamber in a quiet, spectral glow. Elthara stood alone before the floating book, its pages aglow with secrets no ink had ever dared to hold. Her fingers hovered just above its surface, trembling—not from fear, but from the weight of what might be revealed.
She whispered into the stillness, her voice barely more than breath, "She's not just searching for history… she's searching for herself."
And somewhere deep within the Archive's hollow corridors, where dust clung to memory and silence guarded truth, a voice—long buried by time—rose like a distant echo:
'The punished are not always guilty. Sometimes, they are chosen.'
Elthara closed her eyes, the words lingering in the air like a prophecy half-remembered. The Archive did not answer. It never did. But the walls seemed to lean in, listening.
Outside, the wind shifted. The castle's light flickered once more.
And far beyond the Archive, a girl with fading power and a name tied to myth walked toward a fate she had not yet chosen—but could no longer avoid.