The road to the Mage Tower was as perilous as ever, twisting paths veiled in fog, laced with old enchantments and traps long forgotten by time. Navigating it felt akin to walking willingly into a lion's den… while knowing that the lion was hungry.
Leesa and Roman rode in silence for most of the journey, their minds weighed down by the task ahead. By the time they reached the tower, the sky had begun to pale with the faintest hues of dawn.
The moment they arrived at the gates of the ancient stone structure, Leesa wasted no time. She requested an urgent audience with the Tower Master, invoking her status as a close aide to the Crown Prince. The name alone opened the doors. Within moments, they were shown to a high-ceilinged guest chamber filled with warm candlelight and the scent of old spell parchment. Tea was served but left untouched.
Not long after, the heavy door creaked open.
Jeremy, the Master of the Mage Tower, stepped into the room. He was robed in flowing midnight blue, his silver-threaded collar glinting with enchantment. Despite the early hours, his expression was alert, haunted, even, by something deeper than fatigue.
"What is it, Lady Marlene, Sir Roman?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. "To summon me at such an hour… has something happened?"
"Sir Jeremy…" Leesa began, her voice edged with urgency, "His Highness, the Crown Prince, has been abducted. Overnight."
The mage froze. "What are you saying?" he asked, almost in disbelief. "Abducted? From where and how?"
Roman stepped forward, explaining everything they knew with clipped precision. Leesa gave firm nods at key points, her eyes downcast in moments of quiet shame, as it had all unfolded under her watch.
Jeremy was silent for a long time. He gripped the back of a carved chair, his knuckles white. The words weighed too heavily on him to speak. Flavian was not merely the Crown Prince. He was his friend. His confidant. To imagine such a presence simply vanishing… was unthinkable.
"And we believe," Leesa said finally, breaking the silence, "that such a feat—taking him without a trace—is not possible by ordinary means. His Highness is trained. He's strong. He would have fought back."
"Unless," Roman added, his voice grim, "he was drugged. Or… enchanted. There's no way they subdued him by force alone."
Jeremy slowly exhaled. "You're right to suspect magic. Very few forces can achieve what you described... and even fewer without leaving evidence." He turned to them with narrowed eyes. "So, you've come here to confirm whether magic was involved?"
Leesa nodded. "We need to know. It may be the only lead we have."
Jeremy brushed his hair thoughtfully, his mind already drifting into the arcane. "Very well. But I'll need the exact location. I'm not fond of travelling by foot—and I'm certainly not waiting for a carriage."
"The festival grounds," Roman replied. "At the heart of the capital, just beyond the main thoroughfare, near an alley that turns sharply into shadow. That's where it happened."
Jeremy nodded once. "I'll go immediately. You two wait here."
Without another word, he vanished in the blink of an eye, leaving behind a thin wisp of smoke where he once stood. The tower chamber fell silent, the scent of arcane residue lingering in the air like the ghost of his presence.
Jeremy's heart was uneasy, and he was rightly so. The last time he spoke to Flavian, the conversation had not been light-hearted. It was weighty, burdened with emotions that the Crown Prince could no longer contain. Flavian had confessed his growing despair—the pain of loving Leesa while she remained unaware of the bond they once shared, in lives long past. He had spoken of dreams, of memories that felt more like truths carved into his soul. He was desperate to awaken those same memories in her.
And so, Flavian devised the only plan that made sense to his troubled heart. His own abduction.
Yes, he arranged his disappearance with the very enemies sworn against his house, believing that only the terror of losing him could stir something deep within Leesa. He believed that pain could unlock the door to a forgotten love. A foolish, dangerous gamble. And so, the Crown Prince placed himself in the hands of assassins. Entrusted his body to those who would not hesitate to see him dead. All for a chance that Leesa might remember… and love him again. A reckless heart, blinded by yearning.
While the palace panicked, guards scattered through the capital, and nobles raged in fear and blame, Flavian slept peacefully in a hidden chamber, far from the world. As if on holiday. Cloaked in silence, unaware of the storm he'd left behind. His face was calm, childlike, free from the burdens that usually weigh him down. To him, it felt like a brief escape from duty.
But there was no retreat. He had been taken—willingly—into the lion's den. A den filled with true danger, real blades, and men who would gladly spill royal blood. What Flavian did not know was how deeply he had underestimated the chaos he had seen.
Back at the Mage Tower, Jeremy returned not long after. His robes were slightly singed at the hems, and his expression was grim.
"I found no traces," he announced quietly. "No residual enchantments. No signatures. No magical tampering of any kind."
Of course, he hadn't. There was no magic involved to begin with.
Leesa stood slowly, her fingers tightening at her sides. Roman frowned, the weight of disappointment settling on his shoulders like armour.
"No trace?" she whispered, half in disbelief, half in dread.
Jeremy shook his head. "I'm sorry."
With no evidence and no magical clues to follow, they had no choice but to return to the imperial palace. Empty-handed. Directionless. And for the first time since the Crown Prince's disappearance, Leesa's hope flickered. Not just because they had failed to find him…but because, deep in her bones, something still didn't make sense. And that made it worse.