The Damsel and her Knight

♚ The Rebel's Sorcerer

♚ The Rebel's Sorcerer

ANTHONY

He opened the door.

Anthony contained his heavy breaths, carefully looking around the room. There wasn't anything unusual. If he wasn't mistaken, this place was the king's library. It was dimly lit, but so were all the other rooms in this castle. It was evidently well-furnished. Henry Wykeham frequently spent his days locked up in this place if he wasn't in the throne room, as the spies had reported to them.

While on his way to catch up with Miles and the others, Anthony was taken back when he felt an immense but familiar magical spell coming from this room. There were other powerful sorcerers that were scattered around in the palace, some of them were in the service of the tyrant and the others were his own allies that had taken part in the uprising. But he couldn't be mistaken. The time that had passed didn't let him forget the pattern of her lifeline, the structure of the sorcerer blood that was running in her veins.

Even if he was in a hurry, he had no choice but to see it for himself. The last time he had sensed her lifeline in its faintest form was in Miles's seal. Now, it was in its full form. How could he let this opportunity pass? There was no explanation why it was here in this room. But if his hunch was right, he had an idea of what could be possibly happening.

Anthony was careful with his steps. There was someone moving in this empty room, aside from him. He couldn't see it. More so, he couldn't believe it. She had died sixteen years ago. But he knew that she was here. There was no mistaking it.

"Keira?" Anthony asked guardedly, narrowing his eyes. There was something different with her lifeline. It was her, and he was certain. But something else was there. It was as if her lifeline was woven with someone else's, and it had given her immense power, even if she had already used up most of it.

No one answered. There were no movements that would indicate her presence. Anthony carefully searched the room. Across the hall, there was a deep red couch, and the portion of the walls that surrounded it were covered with mirrors intricately designed with golden carvings.

Anthony stepped closer to the couch. The moonlight had fallen right into him. He watched his steps, and his eyes landed on his image on the mirror to his right. The chandelier above his head was not lit. His ghastly reflection was staring right back at him in this dark and vacant room. Anthony was wearing a long black tunic, the clothing he had worn ever since he became a bandit. The war cries were loud outside, but it was seemingly hushed down by the library walls. If he would listen closer, he could even hear his own heart as it steadily rose and fell in his chest.

As he was about to turn away, from the corner of his eyes, he saw a figure at the edge of one of the mirrors. When he turned around, his eyes grew wide in astonishment. She took a step forward, slipping out of his shadows. He didn't know what to say or what he should do. But right beside him, Keira Lockwood was standing.

Anthony looked at his right, where she should be standing, but his naked eyes couldn't see her. He hurriedly turned his gaze back to the mirror, afraid that she would be gone in an instant. But she was there. His eyes hadn't been deceiving him.

Keira Lockwood was wearing her apprentice uniform, a white toga with a faint of bluish tint on the hem. That brown locks that fell across her face when she spoke in a composed manner. The way her thick eyebrows met when she wrinkled her face. And the eagerness in her eyes, which was the most beautiful to behold.

"How could this be?" Anthony asked, riddled with confusion. She had opened her mouth again and said something, but he couldn't hear her. So he asked, "What's going on?"