The palace no longer felt like stone and silk.
It pulsed alive, watching.Even the air buzzed with suspicion after the breach.
Elara had escaped the chaos of the library but hadn't outrun the questions.
Or the whispers.
Why her?
What now?
Who was M.?
Sleep never came. Only the echo of M.'s words, etched deep in her mind:
"They fear what they can't control. But you? You were never meant to be controlled. Keep your eyes open. M"
By dawn, the sky hung low with mist, the gardens glistened as if they wept through the night. Nobles roamed the halls, clutching half-truths and teacups, but Elara kept to the shadows.
She moved like a shadow cutting through the palace until the marble led her into the Imperial Gardens the one place not yet soured by suspicion.
Or so she thought.
The flowers leaned too close.
The breeze carried more than petals; it carried warnings.
The dandelion seeds drifted against the wind, playful and aimless. Her ins
tincts screamed.
She left the main path.
The garden maze, once a place of childhood dares and secret laughter, now loomed with thorny silence. The hedges towered, tall enough to hide secrets or bury them.
She paused at a fork, heart thrumming.
Suddenly, a small slip of parchment fluttered down, landing near her feet.
She looked up.
A figure slipped behind a hedge, a quick shadow disappearing.
Elara knelt, picking up the note with careful fingers.
"They watch in silence. You are not safe in the light. Find me where the roses bleed. Midnight. M."
Her pulse quickened.
"Roses bleed?" she whispered.
A voice startled her..
"You'll need that," it said softly.
She turned sharply.
A boy stood in the center of a rose-ringed clearing.
His face was calm, almost serene, but his eyes flickered with danger.
In his hand gleamed a curved knife ceremonial, sharp, wickedly familiar.
"Do I know you?" Elara asked cautiously
"No," he replied with a small smile, "But I
know you, Lady Flame."
Elara stepped back. "Lady Flame?"
He chuckled, stepping closer, eyes never leaving her.
"You're earlier than expected."
Her fingers clenched around the note. "Why are you here?"
Before he could answer, he lunged.
Elara barely ducked, rolling into the dew-wet grass.
The knife sliced the air where her throat had been seconds before.
Training surged through her not the courtly posture or sword lessons meant for show, but secret drills taught in the moonlit quiet of her father's guard hall.
She grabbed a thorned branch nearby and swung hard.
The boy hissed, stumbling back as blood bloomed across his cheek.
"You're better than the reports," he said, circling.
"You talk too much for an assassin," she snapped, voice sharper than she felt.
He lunged again, faster this time.
Elara twisted away, the branch snapping in her hand.
His blade grazed her shoulder hot pain bloomed, then numbed.
"Why me?" she demanded, breath ragged.
"Because the Stone chose wrong."
Her pulse pounded.
Wrong?
What did they think she was?
The boy raised his knife again but a sharp whistle cut the air.
He froze.
From the shadows of the hedge, another
figure stepped out all, hooded, familiar.
"M," Elara breathed.
"Enough," M said calmly.
The boy's eyes burned with resentment as he lowered the blade.
"She was unguarded."
"And you were sloppy."
"She fought back."
M looked at Elara, voice low.
"She always will."
Without another word, the boy melted back into the hedge, silent as smoke.
Elara pressed a hand to her bleeding shoulder, eyes wide.
"You sent him?" she asked.
"No. But I knew someone would."
"So I'm bait now?"
M shrugged, unaffected by the thorns brushing his cloak.
"You're the key to something old and dangerous.
Of course, they want you gone."
"Who are 'they'?"
Her voice trembled between fear and defiance.
"You'll know them by the silence they leave behind."
He held out a hand. For a moment, Elara hesitated.
Then she took it.
Together, they walked deeper into the maze.
The garden whispered behind them, thorny branches brushing her skin like secrets.
Elara glanced at M.
"Why help me?"
M's gaze flickered with something unreadable.
"Because I've seen what they do to sparks like you."
The maze seemed endless, twisting and folding, but finally, they reached a small alcove hidden by roses that bled dark red in the half-light.
"Here," M said, pulling back his hood.
He might be few years older than Elara with with a calm confidence that settled the air around him.
"Why the secret notes?
Why the warnings?"
"Because not everyone wants you to survive," he said, voice heavy.
Elara's heart hammered.
"I don't even know who you are."
M smiled faintly.
"Names don't matter. Not yet.
She studied him. "Then what?"
"I want to teach you how to survive."
Elara swallowed, pain in her shoulder forgotten.
"Why me?"
"Because you're more than a girl the Stone chose.
You're the spark that can light the darkness."
She looked away, letting the words sink.
The garden was quiet again.
But inside her, something was burning brighter than before.
A fire she wouldn't let die.