The next day, after an especially tense breakfast where Magnus accidentally insulted a visiting noble by calling his mustache "a confused squirrel," his father's glare could've shattered stone.
Before the shouting could start, Magnus stood up suddenly, grabbed an apple from the table, and muttered through clenched teeth, "Ophelia. Walk with me. Now."
I followed him, confused but curious.
He led me through winding corridors, past unused stairwells and hidden alcoves. Eventually, we reached a narrow passage behind a heavy tapestry. He pulled it aside with a smirk and motioned for me to follow him into the darkness.
"Do you always sneak girls into secret passages?" I asked.
"Only the ones who witness my public humiliation," he muttered. "Welcome to the Sulk Route."
The path eventually opened up to a small, hidden chamber—a hollowed-out space tucked behind the castle wall.
The stone room was filled with old pillows, hanging lanterns, and mismatched books scattered across the floor.
A single narrow window let in streaks of sunlight, catching dust in the air like golden snow.
"This is… cozy," I said, lowering myself onto one of the large cushions.
"Right? When Father starts yelling or when the nobles start preaching about etiquette, this is where I hide," he said proudly. "No one knows about this place except you. And maybe a cat named Horace, but he comes and goes."
He tossed himself dramatically onto a pillow beside me and took a bite of his apple.
We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the tension of the morning melting into something peaceful. The air smelled faintly of old parchment and lavender.
I watched him carefully his usual sarcasm had softened, his eyes a little more distant.
"Do you ever wish you were someone else?" I asked quietly.
He blinked, surprised by the sudden question. "All the time," he said. "Usually someone taller. Or with better luck."
I smiled faintly. "No, I mean… truly someone else. Like not even a normal being."
He raised an eyebrow. "You're not about to tell me you're a lizard wearing human skin, are you? Because honestly, I'd respect the commitment."
I laughed, then hesitated. My fingers tightened in my lap. It was time.
"I'm not a Mefen, Magnus."
(Mefen another word for human)
He blinked at me, chewing slowly. "…I mean, same, but I'm a wolf ...woff."
"I'm serious," I said, turning toward him, eyes calm but solemn. "I'm a seraph. A celestial being. An angel, if you want the simple word."
There was a beat of silence.
Magnus stared at me.
Then he burst out laughing.
"Oh—oh no—Ophelia, come on " he wheezed. "That's the best one yet. You almost had me. You should've done the wings thing! That would've sold it."
"I'm not joking," I said flatly, though his laughter only grew.
He wiped his eyes, catching his breath. "Okay, okay—seriously. You've got jokes today. Did you bump your head or inhale some magic mushrooms in the forest?"
"I have wings," I said.
"You what?" he snorted.
"I have wings."
"Prove it."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "I can't just summon them in the middle of a hideout surrounded by iron lattice and mortal dust. Besides, most mefens wouldn't even be able to see them."
"Right. Of course. Invisible holy chicken wings. Makes sense." He leaned back on the pillow, still grinning. "You are something else."
I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at my lips. "Why is it so hard for you to believe?"
He looked over at me, head tilted. "Because… you laugh too much to be divine. And you mock me too well. I always imagined angels would be a lot more boring."
He smiled again, but his eyes lingered on me a little longer this time.
Something unspoken hung in the air.
He didn't believe me.
Not really.
But maybe—maybe—he wanted to.
The warmth in the hideout began to settle into silence again, the laughter fading like an echo. I glanced out the narrow window slit, where sunlight was already dimming despite the early hour.
Clouds had begun to gather.
Thick. Heavy. Almost unnatural.
The shadows were creeping faster lately.
I shifted slightly, pulling my knees to my chest. "Magnus…"
"Hmm?" He was lazily flipping through a half-burnt book, clearly not reading a word of it.
I hesitated, then asked, "What's happening to Yeneva?"
His hand paused on the page.
I looked over at him. "Why is there so much darkness? The land feels… tainted. The air's heavier. People are afraid. And there are whispers—about things in the night. Creatures that hurt others just for existing."
Magnus didn't answer right away. He stared at the book, lips parted slightly, like he was weighing whether to speak at all.
"You don't know?" he said quietly, setting the book aside. "Everyone else just pretends it's normal now. Like we've always lived this way."
He drew his knees up and rested his arms on them, eyes distant.
"I was eight," he started, voice low and steady, "when the first howling came from beyond the borders. Before that, we were just a forest family. My father wasn't a high lord back then. He was a tracker. A wolfblood—part of one of the old clans sworn to protect the balance between mefen's and nature."
I listened closely. His tone was different now. Stripped of sarcasm. Real.
"Our people used to believe the forest had a soul. That it would warn us when something was wrong. That it would fight beside us if danger ever came."
He took a breath, jaw tightening.
"But the night those creatures came… the forest didn't fight. It fell silent."
I felt a cold shiver crawl up my spine.
Magnus continued. "They weren't beasts, not really. Not animals. They had no eyes—just faces like cracked porcelain, too long, too thin, always shifting. And when they screamed, it made your bones shake."
He looked at his hands like he was remembering something burned into them.
"My mother was one of the strongest in our pack. She had the mark—silver streaks in her veins. She led the younger wolves into the woods that night to protect the villagers on the edge." His voice cracked, just faintly. "She told me to stay hidden beneath the roots of the weeping tree. I watched her go. I waited."
A long silence.
"She didn't come back."
I swallowed hard, my heart aching for him.
"My father found her sword days later. Snapped in half. Blood... everywhere. After that, he changed. Took us away from the pack. Swore to protect the realm with politics instead of claws."
Magnus chuckled dryly, but there was no joy in it. "And now he sits in his castle while the darkness creeps in through the walls, pretending this kingdom still has hope."
I reached over without thinking and placed my hand over his.
He stiffened, just for a second, then relaxed.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
His eyes still fixed on something invisible. "They just see the idiot prince who talks too much."
"You're more than that," I said quietly. "You carry loss in silence. That's not idiotic. That's brave."
He finally looked at me, and for a moment, the sunset in his eyes flickered with something raw pain, yes, but also trust.
"You asked why the darkness is spreading," he said after a moment. "I think… something ancient woke up. Something that was supposed to stay buried. And now the creatures are only the beginning."
I nodded slowly.
Because deep inside, I felt it too.