The creature—the thing that had lunged at her in the square—had been unlike anything Marcella had ever seen. Malformed, its eyes hollow, its flesh stitched together. It had been neither human nor beast.
Marcella had refused to believe it at the time, dismissed the thought as superstition. But now, sitting before this ancient book, she couldn't deny the dread curling in her gut.
Beside her, Anthony's voice pitched higher. "This has to be a mistake. The church has always spoken of demons, yes, but as a warning. Not as something that actually exists in our world."
"And yet," Evelyn murmured, turning the page, "they do."
The next illustration was more detailed—a battlefield. Bodies lay in heaps, faces twisted in agony. Some of them were human. Others… were not.
This reminded Marcella of something. "Evelyne, what do you know about Black Vale Massacre?"
Anthony's head snapped toward her at the mention of it, but she didn't look at him. Her gaze was still fixed on Evelyne, whose hands stilled over the pages of the book.
For a long moment, the sister said nothing.
Then, she closed the book. "The Black Vale Massacre… was not the work of men."
The room went deathly silent.
Anthony let out a disbelieving breath. "You can't possibly mean—"
"I do," Evelyne interrupted. "And if you value your lives, you must understand that what happened back then is connected to what is happening now."
A shudder ran down Marcella's spine.
Everything she had once ignored in her past life—every disappearance, every incident that had been conveniently swept under the rug—it was all tied to something far more dangerous than she had ever imagined.
But one question gnawed at her.
Why me?
The question had been gnawing at her ever since the attack, but now—after everything Evelyne had revealed—it felt heavier. More urgent.
Pressure ballooned in her chest. "That creature… it didn't attack at random, did it?" Her voice came out scratchy and hoarse. "It was looking for me specifically."
Evelyne sighed, gaze flickering toward the closed book as if it could shield her from what she knew. "My Lady..."
"I need to know," Marcella pressed, leaning forward. "Why?"
Evelyne didn't answer. Instead, she studied her, her eyes thoughtful, conflicted. "There are things in this world," She replied thoughtfully, "that move according to rules unseen by mortals. To the untrained eye, it may look like coincidence… but nothing ever is."
Her jaw unhinged. "That's not an answer." Marcella mustered a dry laugh.
"It's the only one I can give you." Evelyne's expression remained calm, but there was a flicker of something deeper in her gaze. Something like pity.
Marcella stiffened. Why was she looking at her like that?
"You know, don't you?" Marcella accused, her voice sharper than she intended. "You know why that creature targeted me, why it tried to kill me."
Evelyne stood, stepping away from the table to relight the candles that had burned low. The golden glow flickered over her face, making the lines of her features look even more solemn.
"There is a reason," she admitted, "but the answer is not mine to give."
Marcella clenched her jaw. "Then whose?"
Evelyne hesitated before saying, "The one who walks with you in fate."
The words sent a ripple of unease through Marcella. The one who walks with you in fate?
Her mind spun through possibilities. A person? A force?
Anthony, who had remained silent all this time, finally exploded. "Sister… you're saying Marcella was meant to be attacked. That something—someone—wanted her dead."
Evelyne turned back to them, her lips pressing into a thin line. "All I would say is this, if that creature succeeded, it would have pleased someone very much."
Marcella felt the blood drain from her face. Her mind whirled with possibilities, but one thought kept rising to the surface, no matter how much she wanted to suppress it.
Duke Berith. The man she was set to marry. The man who had—in her past life—killed her with his own hands. She could still feel it; the ghost of a dagger pressed against her skin.
Was history repeating itself?
Her throat went dry. "How would my death benefit someone?" Marcella leaned forward. "Tell me."
Evelyne's fingers tightened around the prayer beads at her wrist. "There are… forces at play, Lady Marcella. One that go beyond the ambitions of men."
Frustration bubbled beneath her skin. She had thought she was ahead of fate, that she had a chance to change things this time. But the pieces of the puzzle were shifting in ways she hadn't foreseen.
Too many questions.
Too few answers.
And a rising dread that told her Marcella was running out of time.