The frozen heart

Chapter 27: Threads of Fate

Chapter 27: Threads of Fate

The moonlight filtered through the heavy curtains of Anne's room, casting soft silver shadows across the lavish bed. She tossed and turned, the plush mattress doing little to soothe her restless mind. Sleep refused to come, her thoughts whirling with the unsettling revelations of the day. Her body may have been tired, but her mind raced, spinning with confusion. She kept returning to one question that gnawed at her—the reflection she had seen earlier.

She was no longer herself.

The discomfort gnawed at her, keeping her wide awake. Why had she changed now, after already living a full day in this world as herself? It didn't make sense.

Sighing in frustration, Anne sat up in bed, throwing the covers off her legs. The room was still, the silence unsettling. The crackling of the fireplace had long since died down, leaving only faint embers glowing in the hearth. She needed to move, to shake off the unsettling energy that crawled beneath her skin.

With slow, deliberate steps, she crossed the room, her bare feet sinking into the thick rug beneath her. She moved around aimlessly at first, examining the lavish tapestries and heavy furniture that filled the space. Her hands trailed over the cold stone walls, but there was something off—something that felt wrong. She couldn't place it, but it gnawed at her, a vague sense of unease creeping over her skin like a cold wind.

A feeling. A pull.

It tugged at her, leading her away from her room. She paused at the threshold, looking out into the corridor, half-expecting to see the usual guards standing in their posts. But there was no one. Not a single guard in sight.

Her stomach knotted with unease. The castle should have been heavily guarded at night. Why were they gone?

Despite her growing anxiety, Anne stepped out into the hallway. The dim light from the torches cast long, flickering shadows against the stone walls. The corridor stretched out before her, eerily empty. Each step echoed in the silence as she wandered through the castle's twisting halls, driven by a force she didn't understand, but couldn't resist.

Something was pulling her. She could feel it, like an invisible thread guiding her forward.

The air grew colder as she ventured deeper into the castle, her footsteps now almost automatic as she let the strange compulsion take hold. She was being led somewhere—somewhere important.

Before she knew it, she stood outside the Crown Room. The massive, ornately carved doors loomed before her, slightly ajar. A thin sliver of light peeked through the crack, illuminating the floor beneath her feet.

Her heart pounded as she approached cautiously, peeking through the gap. Inside, shadows moved. Figures—two of them, standing near the center of the room, their voices low but urgent. Anne's breath hitched, and instinctively, she crouched behind one of the thick columns lining the entrance, peering into the room from the shadows.

It was her father and her brother.

Her heart raced; the air thick with tension as she watched them from her hiding spot. The King stood by the throne, his hands clasped tightly behind his back, his posture rigid. Her brother stood before him, pacing restlessly, his brow furrowed in deep concern.

They were both anxious. She could feel it, see it in their stiff movements and hushed voices.

"Do you think the guards will be enough to stop him?" her brother asked, his voice strained with worry.

Anne's pulse quickened. Stop who? Who were they talking about?

Her father let out a long, heavy sigh. His shoulders sagged, the weight of the moment clearly pressing down on him. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, thick with emotion.