By the time dawn broke through the stained glass windows of the estate, I hadn't slept a second.
Seraphina had left in the early hours with a list of names—servants and guards who had access to my wing the night the poison was planted in my tea. In return, I had promised to act normal at court today. Pretend everything was fine. Pretend I wasn't walking a tightrope above my own death.
But something was wrong.
A letter had appeared on my vanity. Elegant. Sealed with black wax I didn't recognize. I hadn't seen it the night before—and I never heard anyone enter.
My fingers trembled as I broke the seal.
"To the one who wasn't meant to exist:
You've already changed too much. The story will begin to reject you.
Step back, or be erased with it."
No signature. No mark of origin.
But my timer pulsed faintly as I read the words—like it recognized the threat.
Seraphina returned that afternoon, pale and tight-lipped. "Evelyne… the person who delivered the poison wasn't in the estate records. I don't think this plot came from the Duke's enemies."
She handed me a small piece of parchment—another warning, identical in style to the one I received.
Something bigger than betrayal was unfolding.
Not just a story… but something—or someone—who didn't want it rewritten.