The library rivaled the ballroom in grandeur, yet unlike the glittering court, it welcomed Thalia without judgment. The moment she crossed its threshold, leaving behind the polished chaos of the evening, the dim expanse of her personal sanctuary wrapped around her like a salve applied to an open wound.
Towering shelves rose on every side, laden with ancient tomes whose spines bore the weight of centuries. Thalia paused, drawing in a slow breath, allowing the familiar scent of aged leather and parchment to steady her racing thoughts. This place had always been different. Where the rest of the castle thrummed with expectation and quiet cruelty, the library breathed silence and contemplation. It asked nothing of her except attention.
Candlelight pooled softly across the room, its glow coaxing long shadows from the shelves. They flickered along the walls like spectral companions, infinitely preferable to the ones she had abandoned in the ballroom. A shiver passed through her, and she rubbed her arms absently, seeking warmth that had nothing to do with temperature. Lifting her gaze to the wavering light, she inhaled and pressed deeper into the stacks.
The central reading area awaited her, furnished with plush chairs worn smooth by time and use. Thalia sank into her favorite seat, surrendering to its familiar embrace. The rigid weight of her gown seemed to dissolve, and with it, the suffocating mantle of duty. She closed her eyes, allowing the cool stillness to settle over her like a protective cloak.
Evelina was not here. Thalia knew that much. Her attendant would still be in the ballroom, likely interposing herself between the king and the path Thalia had taken. The thought sparked a flicker of gratitude, quickly swallowed by exhaustion. Here, among the books, Thalia had always found truer companionship than anywhere else in the castle. These volumes spoke honestly. They demanded nothing but understanding.
She rose at last, kicking off her heels and moving barefoot along the aisles. The reading nooks lay shrouded, their curtains drawn for the night. Moonlight streamed through the arched windows, painting fractured mosaics across the floor and shelves alike. Thalia's thoughts drifted far beyond the castle walls, beyond the suffocating rituals and blood-bound politics of her father's court.
Somewhere beyond these books lay a world untouched by expectation.
The library seemed to listen.
Go.
The thought was not entirely her own.
She had already walked away from the announcement. From her father. The realization struck with startling clarity. There was nothing, nothing at all, preventing her from walking farther still.
Without pausing to retrieve a ladder, Thalia grasped the carved mahogany shelving and began to climb. Hand over hand, foot finding purchase with practiced ease, she ascended until she perched beside the window. Cool night air rushed in as she pushed it open. Moments later, she was scaling down the stone exterior, slipping into the garden below.
Her senses flared instantly. As a child of the night, she could hear every rustle, every breath. She could also be felt. The moment her feet touched the ground, she ran.
Shouts rang out behind her. Guards broke formation, their pursuit immediate but futile. She had spent centuries outrunning them. Yet she did not slow as she reached the outer wall, the boundary she had never crossed. Fear had held her there before—fear of her father's wrath.
No longer.
"No more," she whispered, pushing herself harder.
As she climbed, her breath came ragged, tears streaking her face. "Moon Goddess," she prayed under her breath, desperation lending strength to her words. "I want to be free. Guide me through this darkness. Illuminate my path. Grant me courage."
She reached the top and looked down into the forest beyond. Her father's voice echoed faintly behind her, calling her name. Thalia did not answer. She jumped.
The earth absorbed her landing, soft and forgiving. She ran again, branches clawing at her like grasping hands as the forest swallowed her whole.
Moonlight bathed her skin, a silvery benediction, and for one fleeting moment she felt, as surely as she had ever felt anything, that the Goddess heard her.
The trees parted suddenly.
A clearing bloomed before her, bathed in moonlight, its flowers glowing faintly as if lit from within. Thalia slowed, awe stealing her breath. Magic thrummed in the air, ancient and benevolent. It felt prepared. Waiting.
She stepped forward. And nearly fell.
The wolf lay sprawled before her, massive beyond belief, ensnared in a cruel silver trap. The sight stopped her cold. She would have blundered into it herself had it not already claimed its prey.
Golden eyes snapped open, locking onto her.
The creature rose with a low, resonant growl, hackles lifting as moonlight caught in its fur. Thalia's breath caught in her throat. She had seen illustrations in books, but this, this was something else entirely.
Larger. Older. Powerful.
The growl reverberated through her bones, igniting every nerve in her body.
And to her own astonishment, she could not tell where the fear ended and where something else began.