e woman in the corner, the insistent, brutal clang that resonated in my skull whenever iron came into view, the cold, dul

led with countless ancient tomes. But one book always stood out, its spine a dark, gnarled wood bound with tarnished silver clasps. An inscription, etched in a language I didn't understand yet felt deep in my bones, glowed fa

nful ping had echoed in my head, a fleeting wave of dizziness washing over me. I had dismissed it then as a sudden headache. And just last week, while helping the gardeners, the sight of their iron tools leaning against the stone wall had

each tiny sound a prelude to the brutal clang I now dreaded. I kept my gaze firmly fixed on the detailed patterns of my plate. The aroma

voice laced with concern as he lowered the morning's dispat

ed, pushing a piece of buttered toast around my pl

a thing. "You've been quiet since that incident at the market. Some

nsation that had become increasingly frequent si

yebrows arching. "You have

within me. I could feel their combined scrutiny, Papa's concerned frown, and Anne's unwavering suspicion. The urge to confess the bizarre truth, to unburden my

e Papa's plate as he cut a piece of fruit. The brutal clang echoed in my skull

urmoil. "Are you alright, dear? You look quite pale." Her hand

seemed to thicken, almost suffocating. The urge to snatch the small, innocuous iron knife, to feel its

difficult to focus. A strange, unsettling feeling crawled beneath my skin, a restless energy that

Isla," Papa suggested, his

. The concerned looks followed me as I made my escape, the clinking

shed silver clasps, the glowing inscription – it felt like more than just a figment of my imagination. A despera

of the Royal Guard. His usual air of cool professionalism seemed even more pronounced in the brigh

my voice barely

"Your Highness." He inclined his head

u something," I said,

, his silence promp

ark wood, with silver clasps?" I described the book from my dreams as best as I could, the ins

sually impassive face. "There are many old books in the royal librar

" I hesitated, feeling a blush rise on my

twitches in his jaw. The air around him seemed to grow c

ved by his reaction. "And

his eyes boring into mine. "You must stay away from such things. Such thoughts... they are dangerous. There are whispers i

fear through me. "But... What a

your heart. Trust me, Princess. Some doors are best left unopened. Some knowledge is a poison." His voice held a weight of conviction that chilled me to the bone. He looke