Chapter 79: Ghosts of the Past**

The moment Seraphina stepped through the portal, the scent of Eldoria’s market square enveloped her—the mix of freshly baked bread, sizzling meats, and the faint aroma of incense from the merchants’ stalls. The air was thick with the chatter of vendors and townsfolk, bargaining, gossiping, living their lives as if nothing had changed.

But for Seraphina, *everything* had changed.

She pulled the hood of her cloak lower over her face, instinctively shielding herself from any curious glances. Though the black fabric concealed her silver hair, her face remained exposed. She kept her gaze down, her movements quick and calculated as she weaved through the crowd.

This was where it had all begun.

The place where she had once lived in the shadows, hiding from the very people who would exploit her. The place where she had been dragged to the palace against her will. The place where her life had been forever altered.

And now, she was back.

Her fingers curled tightly around the *Origin Relic* beneath her cloak. It pulsed faintly against her palm, its ancient energy sending tingling sensations through her skin. It was warm, alive, responding to her presence.

But now that she had it—*what was she supposed to do?*

She had risked everything to get this relic, betrayed Cassian’s trust, and left behind someone who—despite everything—had *cared* for her.

Cassian.

A lump formed in her throat at the thought of him. She could still hear his voice, the raw anger, the pain.

*"I never want to see you again."*

Her steps faltered as a tear slipped down her cheek.

*"Cassian… I'm sorry."*

She hadn’t meant to whisper it aloud, but the words escaped before she could stop them.

A sharp pang stabbed at her chest, but she quickly brushed the tear away. Now was not the time for regrets. Her life was still at stake, and she had to figure out her next move.

She moved deeper into the market, keeping her head low. She had no destination in mind, only the pressing need to stay hidden.

That was when she spotted it—a small, dimly lit shop tucked between two towering buildings. The wooden sign hanging above the entrance was worn and barely legible, but the familiar symbols etched into the doorframe told her exactly what it was.

A *witch’s shop.*

Seraphina hesitated for only a moment before stepping inside.

The air inside was thick with the scent of herbs and aged parchment. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with vials of shimmering potions, ancient books, and bundles of dried herbs. The dim candlelight cast eerie shadows, making the space feel even smaller than it was.

A woman sat behind the counter, her fingers idly shuffling a deck of tarot cards. Her hood was drawn low over her face, but Seraphina could feel the weight of her gaze.

Without hesitation, she stepped forward. "I need help."

The witch didn’t respond immediately. She continued flipping the cards, the soft *swish* of paper filling the silence. Then, finally, she looked up.

"The answer you seek does not lie here," the witch said, her voice raspy yet knowing. "It lies in the *palace.*"

Seraphina stiffened.

The *palace?*

She took a step back, shaking her head. "That can’t be right. I can’t go back there."

But the witch only gave her a cryptic smile, as if she already knew Seraphina’s fate was sealed.

Frustrated and uneasy, Seraphina turned on her heel and left the shop.

Why did it have to be the *palace?*

Her hands trembled slightly as she gripped the relic tighter. Hadn’t she risked enough? Going back there would be *suicide.*

She had barely made it two steps away from the shop when a sudden commotion rippled through the market square.

The sound of horns blared in the distance, followed by the sharp voice of a palace official.

*"All bow for the Prince of Eldoria!"*

Seraphina’s breath hitched.

*Lucian.*

She had barely processed the thought before she caught sight of him, moving gracefully through the market on horseback.

He was dressed in a royal navy tunic adorned with gold embroidery, his dark hair tousled slightly by the wind. He sat tall in the saddle, his expression unreadable as he observed the people bowing before him.

Seraphina’s heart pounded against her ribs.

She *couldn’t* be here. Not now. Not with him so close.

Keeping her head low, she turned sharply and made her way toward the edge of the market, slipping between stalls, avoiding any direct path.

But the moment she heard his voice—deep, steady, unmistakable—she *panicked.*

She *ran.*

She bolted past carts and merchants, her cloak billowing behind her. People shouted in protest as she brushed past them, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t.

Ahead, a wooden fence blocked her path. Without hesitation, she leaped.

Her boots hit the top rail, and just as she was about to hoist herself over—

Her scarf slipped.

The fabric unraveled from her head, exposing a cascade of silver hair that shimmered under the sun.

For a split second, she heard gasps.

Then—

Lucian’s sharp intake of breath.

His gaze had been idly scanning the market when something caught his eye—a figure in black, moving swiftly through the crowd.

He hadn’t thought much of it at first.

Until he saw the *hair.*

Silver.

Glowing.

Familiar.

His entire body went rigid.

He whipped his head around, searching for the figure again.

But she was gone.

His heart slammed against his chest. He had only caught a glimpse, but—

It had to be *her.*

"Seraphina…" he murmured under his breath.

His hands tightened around the reins. His guards were still lined behind him, watching as the people continued to bow.

Lucian swallowed hard, his mind racing.

He hadn’t left the palace since returning to Eldoria. He had convinced himself that it was for the best—that drowning himself in royal duties would distract him from thoughts of *her.*

But here he was, in the middle of the marketplace, staring at the spot where he *knew* he had just seen her.

Had it been his imagination? A cruel trick of the mind?

Or was she *really* here?

Lucian inhaled sharply, his fingers itching to chase after her.

But before he could make a move, the official beside him cleared his throat.

"My prince, shall we proceed?"

Lucian hesitated.

If he left now, he might never see her again.

But if he stayed, if he followed that flicker of silver—

What then?

His chest ached with the weight of the choice.

But deep down, he already knew.

Seraphina wasn’t just a memory.

She was *here.*