Seraphine looked around in her room. Her dream, or rather nightmare, felt awfully vivid. It was almost like it showed a vision of the future, or perhaps her fears she did not know she had.
“That woman…”
She mumbled under her breath. She recalled the whisper, so close to her ear it had felt as if the woman were hovering beside her as she slept. It sounded familiar, but also slightly distorted so she couldn't recall where she heard that voice before. She wasn’t even sure if she could trust her own recallment. It could’ve been a voice from someone she never even met.
She stepped out of the bed and looked for any sign of intrusion. The windows were still closed, the night still fresh with the full moon shining brightly above the sky. No clouds near it.
There had been no sign of anyone entering her room so far as she knew. She went back to bed and reached for her journal under her pillow.
It was still there.
She signed in relief and looked in the drawer where she put the journal of the original Seraphine. It was still there too, untouched.
Everything important was still in place. Now that she was fully awake, she pondered what to do. It was still night and her body hadn’t fully recovered yet from her duel with prince Cassian. It was mostly sore though, not bruised.
She plopped onto the bed and lay flat on her back. Her hand found her journal under the pillow, and she pulled it close, hugging it to her chest as if it could ward off the chill still clinging to her. It couldn’t, of course, but the comfort it gave was real, and right now that was all she needed.
“What to do now? I can continue writing in my journal until I feel sleepy.”
She whispered almost inaudible, thinking aloud. She felt far too awake now, nerves still buzzing faintly under her skin. The nightmare might have been just that, nothing more, but it didn’t stop the unease curling in her stomach. The thought of closing her eyes again made her tense. Even if it had only been a simple bad dream, she had no desire to drift back into sleep just to risk another. Going back to bed was out of the question for now.
She sighed and tried to make the same movement Edmund did with his hand, when he controlled the shadows.
Nothing happened.
She laughed a bit helplessly. Thinking of herself as foolish that the mere gesture would already summon shadows for her to control.
“Of course nothing would happen. It wouldn't be that easy.”
She sighed and stretched her arms and legs toward the ceiling, then used a quick swing of her limbs to rock herself upright. It took a bit of wobbling, but she managed to sit without using her hands.
She got out of bed and started to write more of her past memories in her journal. Adding the eerie nightmare she had in detail as well, just in case it would happen more often. She couldn’t be too sure about anything in this world.
“My lady!”
Seraphine blinked hard and pushed herself up a little, her head heavy as she lifted her gaze. She rubbed at her eyes and wiped a bit of drool from the corner of her mouth. For a moment she had no idea who would dare wake her so abruptly.
Her eyes landed first on a pair of polished dark boots planted neatly on the stone floor, laced tight. Her gaze drifted upward past layered black skirts, a crisp apron, and a dark blue dress trimmed with pale frills. A slim waist, a ribbon tied at the collar, long black hair falling like a straight curtain against her back.
“Who?” She mumbled through a yawn.
Only when her gaze finally reached the woman’s face did she notice the wide viridian green eyes fixed on her, shock written clear across them.
“Oh. It’s just you, Alisea.”
Seraphine yawned again and lifted her arms for a stretch.
“Oh Lady Seraphine, how did you end up falling asleep at the dressing table again?”
Alisea sighed and gently began combing through the tangled mess of her hair.
(Ah, no wonder my back Felton more sore.)
Seraphine laughed sheepishly. There was no excuse, apparently she fell asleep at some point even though she did not know when.
“Sorry for troubling you so much, Alisea.”
Alisea smiled faintly, though her eyes were half-scolding. “It is my duty, my lady. But you’ll give me gray hairs before my time if you keep sleeping in strange places. You’re not supposed to move much yet.”
Seraphine waved her hand lazily. “I’m fine, really. Just a little stiff. Besides, I wanted to write something down before it slipped away.”
Alisea tilted her head, curious. “Is something bothering you, my lady?”
Seraphine hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Something like that. It was just a nightmare though, no big deal. However, I thought it might do me good to write it down.”
The maid looked thoughtful, but didn’t pry further. She tied Seraphine’s hair neatly in a low braid before stepping aside to fetch her outfit for the day.
“Their Graces asked me to remind you that breakfast will be brought to His Grace’s study this morning. His Grace said you should not tire yourself walking downstairs.”
Seraphine blinked. “His study?”
“Yes, my lady. He said it will be used for your first lesson,” Alisea said. Then her eyes widened a little, as if she had only just remembered something. “I should have said this earlier, but I will guide you there myself. So you don't have to worry about getting lost.”
Seraphine nodded with a thankful smile. She had only been at the estate for some days now, about four perhaps, but that did not mean she understood the full layout. She had not stepped outside at all except for the training yard, and she barely remembered the trip here. She had slept through most of the carriage ride, and it had been dark as well. Perhaps she should ask for a tour soon. It would be weird if Seraphine du Fane did not remember anything besides her own chambers, training yard and dining hall. Her tour had to be subtle. She couldn't act like a tourist on a holiday trip.
Her mind got distracted again. She pulled herself together and refocused on her current goal. Her first lesson. Real magic. The thought cut through the last bits of sleepiness and left her fully awake.
By the time she entered the study, the hearth was already lit and the smell of parchment mingled with the faint sweetness of milk. Isolde sat by the couch in front of the desk with Adrian in her arms, her posture relaxed. She had just finished nursing him, as the soft rustle of fabric was the only sign that she adjusted her bodice back into place with practiced grace. The newborn rested against her shoulder, tiny fingers curling and uncurling as he drifted toward sleep.
Beside her, the other twin, slept in a small bassinet, only the rise and fall of a blanket showing he was there at all.
Edmund stood behind his desk, near the tall windows, sleeves rolled up, papers and books scattered in front of him.
“Good morning,” Seraphine said softly, stepping lightly so she wouldn’t wake the babies. Somehow it felt like she hadn’t seen her little brothers in ages, even though it had only been a few days. She rubbed the back of her neck, realizing how little thought she’d given them lately.
Isolde looked up with a gentle smile. “Good morning, dear. Sit down and have some breakfast. Don’t worry about Adrian and Julian, they’re deep asleep once they have been nursed.”
Edmund set down his quill and moved to the couch, taking a seat beside Isolde while motioning for Seraphine to sit across from them. On the low table between them, a light but elegant breakfast had been arranged with quiet care.
There were soft rolls and slices of brown bread resting on a small plate, a silver butter knife laid beside them. A pair of soft boiled eggs sat in their cups with tiny spoons, and thin slices of smoked salmon were arranged on a chilled dish. A wedge of mild cheese waited next to a small knife. Two glass dishes held raspberry preserves and golden apricot jam, catching the pale northern sunlight that fell through the tall windows. The lemon tea steamed gently in porcelain cups, filling the warm room with a soft citrus scent.
Edmund extended his hand toward the breakfast, the gesture clear and inviting. “At an informal meal like this, it is perfectly proper to use your hands a bit more than cutlery. You hold the plate close, tear the bread over it so the crumbs fall neatly on the plate, and take only as much as you intend to eat. Each side dish has its own utensil, so you never use your personal knife or spoon on them.”
Isolde nudged her elbow against his arm gently. “Edmund, love, I thought you were meant to be teaching her magic today, not rehearse table manners.”
He didn’t miss a beat. “You should take every opportunity that stands in front of you, even teaching moments,” he replied, half serious, half amused. “Might as well make good use of it.”
Isolde chuckled and gave him a look so tender it warmed the air between them. Seraphine glanced away, feeling briefly like the unnecessary third person in a quiet little world meant just for the two of them. Not that she minded. The morning felt calm, almost gentle, and she had begun to treasure moments like this. She never knew what kind of trouble or danger might be waiting just beyond them.
Alisea returned with a few maids who quietly cleared the breakfast. Isolde gathered Adrian and Julian into her arms and withdrew with them, leaving the study warm and still. When the door shut behind her, the quiet that followed seemed to settle over the room with purpose, as if the space itself meant to give them privacy. Edmund crossed the room and turned the key in the lock, a simple precaution to keep wandering eyes from intruding. The walls here were thick, the door heavy, and the study seemed to always hold sound as if it meant to guard whatever happened within.
Edmund clapped his hands lightly, eyes bright. “Alright. Time for your first magic lesson.” His grin was almost boyish, which felt strange for a subject this dangerous, but he looked genuinely excited to begin.
Edmund placed a few old books on the low table. They looked well cared for, the leather still smooth, but the worn edges and softened corners gave away their age. It felt like the kind of set that had been passed down for years, handled often yet kept safe.
“These will be our references today,” he said, his voice low and steady, while sitting down. “Magic is learned by doing, but it is wise to understand what guides it.”
Seraphine sat across from him, the last tendrils of morning sunlight brushing the floor. “Where do we begin?” she asked, eager yet cautious.
“I suspect you have never called upon magic. We must begin at the foundation. The basics matter, for dark magic is far less forgiving to those who skip them.” His tone was calm and patient, though the warning in his voice was unmistakable. “Yesterday, I showed you a small display. Shadow control. A simple art, not too advanced. That will serve as your first step.”
Seraphine nodded slowly. Her heartbeat had picked up in her chest. She could still remember the way the shadows had warped around her, as if she was concealed in a shadow ball. The memory made her skin prickle. It was definitely exciting, even though her body reacted more frightened by it.
Edmund noticed. The corner of his mouth lifted. “You will be fine. Sit comfortably. And listen to your body. That is important.”
She blinked. “My body?”
“Yes. You will understand soon.” His tone was gentle in a comforting manner. “Like how I explained yesterday, dark magic draws on mana, but that alone is not enough. The type we wield consumes stamina and blood, mostly blood. Not always visibly, usually from within. If you overuse it, you can become lightheaded or short of breath.”
“Oh.”
A faint worry crossed her face, and Edmund softened even more. “I tell you this so you do not push yourself into danger. Women are more prone to such weakness because of their natural cycles. It does not make you weaker. It simply means you must be more careful than I am. Be sure to eat well to replenish.”
He gave her a moment to take it in.
Seraphine swallowed and nodded. “I understand.”
(So I have to eat more iron-rich food, like red meat and spinach. Noted.)
Then he lifted his hand and let his palm hover over the table. “Shadow control is gentle. It only needs a little blood. More mana than blood, really. So this is safe for a beginner.”
The sunlight dimmed, or maybe it just seemed so, as the shadows under the table stretched toward his hand like water following a tilt. The air changed with a faint scent. The scent lingered, sweet, chemically and metallic, sharp beneath the warmth of the room. A warning wrapped in sweetness.
Seraphine’s pulse jumped.
(So weird. I never thought dark magic would smell a bit like nail polish remover mixed with burnt caramel and blood.)
She hadn’t noticed it before, perhaps because her excitement at experiencing dark magic firsthand had distracted her.
“Good. You sensed it,” Edmund said. “Shadow control reacts to intent. It will pull toward you if you invite it.”
“How do I invite it?”
“By focusing on a small movement. A tiny idea.” He tapped the table. “Try pulling the shadow of this cup a little to your side. Only a little. Do not force it.”
She inhaled and tried to settle her thoughts. The scent hung in the air like a whisper urging her forward. She pictured the shadow shifting.
Nothing happened.
Her brows knitted. She was imagining it more, almost making the veins in her head pulse and visible.
“Stop. Don't force it. Slow your breathing,” Edmund said gently. “Dark magic does not like impatience. Ask, do not command...Wait. This might help.”
He stood up and walked towards his desk, dipped his quill into the inkpot, and wrote a short line onto a scrap of paper. Returning to her side, he set it gently in front of her.
Umbra parvo, moveo.
“Although an incantation is not necessary, it could steady the mind. Repeat after me. Umbra…parvo…moveo.”
Seraphine tried again. She exhaled, focused on the shape of the shadow, and spoke softly, “Umbra… parvo… moveo.”
She felt a tiny tug in her chest. Her fingertips tingled, and a faint ache curled in her forearm as the cup’s shadow quivered. A shiver ran through her shoulders, enough to make her pause and inhale sharply.
It moved. Only a fraction. But it moved.