Chapter 11

Miu’s POV

Fire everywhere.

It roared through the palace like a living thing—climbing walls, devouring curtains, turning marble into something molten and cruel. The air burned my lungs with every breath, thick with smoke and screams that didn’t sound human anymore.

I was running.

No—
I was Prince Matthew again.

I looked down and saw hands I hadn’t worn in years. Larger. Unscarred. Royal rings digging into my fingers as if the past itself refused to let go of me. My boots pounded against the palace floors, the same halls I had memorized as a child, now warped and collapsing around me.

“Mother!” I shouted.

My voice echoed, swallowed by fire.

I ran faster, heart slamming against my ribs, panic clawing up my throat. I knew where she would be. I always knew.

And then I saw her.

She stood at the far end of the hall—
engulfed in flames.

Not burning.
Standing inside it.

Her silhouette was sharp against the inferno, crown still perched on her head, her dress flowing like it was woven from fire itself. The flames curled around her lovingly, obediently, as if they knew her.

“Mother!” I screamed again, my voice breaking apart. I ran toward her, reaching out, ignoring the heat blistering my skin. “I’m here—I’ll get you out—”

“Stop.”

Her voice cut through everything.

It was wrong. Too deep. Hoarse, scraped raw by smoke and fury. It didn’t sound like the woman who used to tuck me in at night and whisper lullabies about freedom.

I froze.

She turned to face me.

Her eyes burned brighter than the fire.

“I told you to be free,” she said, each word heavy, deliberate.
“I told you to run.”
“I told you to survive.”

The flames surged higher with every sentence, licking closer to me, pressing in like they wanted to drag me back where I belonged.

“Why,” she demanded, her voice rising, cracking with rage and something like grief,
“are you here?”

I shook my head, tears blurring my vision. “I—I didn’t mean to—I just— I was looking for you—”

“Why are you back?!” she screamed.

The fire exploded outward.

Her face twisted—not with love, not with relief—but with fury so sharp it hollowed me out. The warmth I remembered from her eyes was gone, replaced by disappointment so heavy it crushed my chest.

“You were supposed to live,” she snarled.
“You were supposed to disappear.”
“You were supposed to forget us.”

“I tried!” I cried, clutching my head as the walls began to collapse inward. “I tried to be free—I tried to survive—I didn’t want this—I didn’t want to come back—”

The palace groaned, beams snapping, the ceiling caving in.

Her figure began to burn away—not consumed, but judging.

“Then why,” her voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere,
“do you keep dragging my ghost with you?”

I screamed.

The fire rushed toward me, swallowing the hall, swallowing me—

—and I woke up choking, heart hammering, the echo of her last words still seared into my bones.

“Why are you back?”

“Mother—!”

The word tore out of my throat and vanished into nothing but silence.

There was no fire. No throne room. No flames licking at my skin. Just a dim, unfamiliar room washed in soft evening light. My chest heaved violently as I sucked in air like I’d been drowning, sweat slicking my face, sliding down my neck, soaking into the sheets beneath me.

My hands clenched the fabric of the bed, fingers digging in so hard my knuckles burned. I couldn’t stop shaking. My heart wouldn’t slow. My head felt wrong—heavy, spinning—my vision blurred at the edges, a faint streak of red bleeding into the corner of my sight.

What’s happening to me?

I lifted a trembling hand toward my face, desperate for something solid, something real—

And my fingers brushed against pain.

A swollen lump. Tender. Hot.

I sucked in a sharp breath, panic crashing down all at once.

No.
No, no, no—

My mind raced. Was I captured again? Had they dragged me back? Was this another room, another cage, another waiting place before—

“Where am I…?” I whispered hoarsely.

Fear flooded my veins. I shoved myself off the bed, my legs unsteady, nearly giving out beneath me. I stumbled backward until my shoulders hit the corner of the room, my back pressed flat against the wall like I could disappear into it.

That’s when I saw her.

A figure stood near the window, half-swallowed by the fading light of evening. Just a silhouette at first. Still. Watching.

My breath hitched.

“Who are you?” I demanded, my voice cracking despite my attempt to sound strong. “Where am I?!”

The figure moved.

She spoke—but the words didn’t reach me properly. They sank and warped, muffled and distorted, like her voice was trapped underwater, dragging itself through layers of fog before it reached my ears.

I couldn’t understand her.

My pulse roared in my head, drowning out everything else. I pressed myself tighter into the corner, every muscle coiled, ready to run, ready to fight, ready to scream.

Please, I thought wildly.
Please let this be another nightmare.

—–

Lena’s POV

I stretched my hands out slowly, making sure she could see I was no threat. She huddled in the corner, trembling, like a child afraid of the dark. Her eyes barely opened, swollen and bruised, making it hard for her to even register me.

But then—her body tensed, a shudder running through her. She was about to pass out again. Everything had happened so fast. I had only come by in the middle of the night to check on her, restless from my own sleeplessness.

Her sudden cry pierced the quiet. “Mother…” she whispered—or maybe it was a plea—and her voice cracked as she swayed, nearly collapsing.

I lunged forward just in time, catching her against my chest. Her body was limp, fragile in my arms. “Shhh… it’s okay,” I murmured, pressing her close, rocking her gently. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Her breathing hitched as tears slipped down her cheeks. I hushed her softly, holding her like she couldn’t fall, like if I let go, the world might swallow her whole.

I carried her gently back to the bed, careful not to startle her more than she already was. Her breathing was shallow, and I could feel her trembling against me. Just as I laid her down, the door creaked open.

“Your Highness. The head of the prison ward has some news for you,” Daliah said, her voice measured but tense.

I nodded, my hands still hovering near the woman’s shoulder. “Thank you, Daliah. But please… watch over her while I’m gone.”

Daliah hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly as she stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Your Highness… are you certain about this? Her identity is completely unknown, and given the circumstances that brought her here… she could be entangled in things far beyond what we realize. Keeping her here—even for a night—could… invite complications, unforeseen dangers.”

I paused, letting her words linger in the air. My gaze dropped to the woman sleeping before me, bruised and fragile, yet still so human. A faint smile tugged at my lips.

“She’s still a person in need of help,” I said softly. “Her ethnicity, her station, her past… none of that matters. Aid should never be selective, Daliah. Not for anyone.”

Daliah’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she gave a small nod. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

I watched her leave before settling back near the bed, my hand brushing a strand of hair from the woman’s face. She was vulnerable, yes, but that didn’t make her any less deserving of care. Not here. Not while I could help.