Chapter 45.2: Solving the Mystery

Chapter 45.2: Solving the Mystery
The blade against her neck didn’t tremble.

It was cold, too cold. And she would lie if she said thatt she isn’t a bit troubled - she is, because the thing is this is the first time that a sword is actually pointed near her neck. Isolde kept still, her breath barely moving past her lips. One wrong move and she was sure she’d feel blood trickling down her throat. The tip of the sword didn’t just rest there—it pressed, just enough to remind her how sharp it was.

“Turn around,” the man behind her said, his voice low but firm. “Now, tell me who you are and why you’re here.”

“I—I’m not here to fight,” she managed, keeping her voice steady even though her chest was tight. “I’m not your enemy.” She uttered as she turned around and she saw the golden haired man she is looking for and when she saw his face, she cannot help but to admire it for a while. She got a feeling right from the start that he had the looks but she didn’t expect it to be that astonishing.

“Wrong answer,” he muttered, the blade digging just slightly deeper. “People who sneak around at night, tail someone into the forest, and stay silent when questioned usually are enemies.”

Isolde winced as the steel grazed her skin—not enough to cut, but enough to make her flinch.

“I followed you,” she said quickly. “That’s the truth.”

The blade didn’t movebut she knew that the man had lots of questions in his mind. In fact his ssuspiciousness doesn’t match his handsome looks.

“Why?”

“I saw you at my debutante ball,” she continued, her words coming faster now. “You were near the fountain. You disappeared before I could see your face. Then I saw you again two days ago, then from my window a while ag—you jumped the wall. I got a feeling that you were heading toward the forest. I needed to know why.”

A pause. His breathing changed—she heard it. Just slightly sharper, heavier. Still, the blade didn’t lift.

“You… followed me from the academy,” he said slowly, and this time she could hear something new in his voice—disbelief, maybe even frustration. But she was no longer scared - as long as she will tell the truth.

“Yes.”

“You’re bold,” he muttered, though it didn’t sound like a compliment.

“I’m careful,” she said softly. “And same as you, I don’t like being left with unanswered questions.”

The blade still hovered at her throat and she can’t help but to swallow her saliva.

”If my neck is scratched I know my brothers wouldn’t sit still until they found who it was.”

“I don’t believe you,” he said plainly. “You could be one of them.”

“One of who?”

“Sent to find me. Sent to kill me. Sent to watch.”

From that moment, she understood. He wasn’t just suspicious—he was expecting to be attacked or rather he is already used to such thing. And she cannot help but to wonder why are the men getting involved with he are the ones who are constantatly in danger.

“Listen,” she said carefully, trying not to make any sudden moves. “I’m not sent by anyone. My name is Isolde. Isolde Serina Ansirad.”

That caught his attention. He moved. Not away—but around her. The blade remained close to her neck as he stepped into view, his eyes never leaving hers.

And finally, she saw him.

He was tall, with a slender yet strong build. His golden hair, long and slightly tousled, fell over his shoulders like it belonged in a painting. His skin was fair and smooth, his eyes sharp and golden-brown. He had the kind of face that drew attention without trying—handsome in a serious, almost haunting way.

But there was nothing soft about him.

He looked dangerous. Like someone who had been on constant battles for too long.

“You’re the duke’s daughter?” he asked, not hiding his doubt.

“Yes,” she said. “I arrived at the academy two days ago and I told you the first time that I saw you was at my ddebutante ball.”

“Then why are you out here in the middle of the night? What business do you have following strangers into cursed woods?”

“I told you—”

“I want the truth.”

“That is the truth!” she snapped, finally getting frustrated. “I saw you jump the wall. I saw where you were headed. And that forest isn’t just any forest. It’s connected to something much bigger.”

His expression didn’t change.

“You expect me to believe that a noble girl just happened to notice all this and decided to go wandering off on her own?”

“No,” she said, breathing heavier. “I expect you to believe me when I say that I was sent.” At that moment, she knew that she had no choice but to reveal bits of her mission because if she will not, she may surely end up wounded - not that she cannot defend herself, its just that she also knows that fighting back means that she will also be altering the academy and if the higher ups knew that she was sneaking around then her academy journey will end before it even started.

“By who?”

“The Spirit King.”

He stared at her, as if trying to figure out if she was mocking him.

“You’re not serious.”

“I am.”

“You spoke to the Spirit King.”

“Yes.”

“In the spirit realm.”

“Yes.”

He laughed once—sharp, bitter, and brief. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

He raised the blade slightly. “People don’t just talk to the Spirit King.”

“I did.”

“Then prove it,” he said.

“I don’t have to—”

“Prove it!”

The blade touched her skin again—this time, she felt the sting of the edge.

It was barely a scratch, but her breath caught.

Her hand started to rise, her instincts kicking in, magic already pulling toward her palm.

But then— A wave of magic rushed toward them, dark and fast.

She turned her head quickly, just in time to see something rushing toward them from the trees.

A wave of something dark.

“Get down!” she shouted.

The man barely reacted before Isolde raised her hand and cast a barrier with one swift motion.

She casted a barrier that expanded in front of her just in time for the incoming attack to crash into it—a jagged, black mass of magic, hissing and pulsing with malice. The impact sent a shockwave through the ground, kicking up dirt and leaves.

The barrier held but barely. That is because she only casted a normal barrier and not what she is used to casting. Isolde’s feet slid back from the force, her arms trembling as she focused to keep the spell active.

When the energy faded, she dropped the barrier and looked ahead.

Smoke rose from the ground.

The grass was scorched. The dirt beneath it blackened, and she felt it - that something in the darkness was still watching.

“That was dark magic,” she said through gritted teeth. “Someone’s here.”

The man beside her stepped forward now, his sword glowing faintly. He looked serious. But now… less suspicious.

“You blocked that,” he said.

“Of course I did,” Isolde snapped. “Would you rather I let it hit us?”

He didn’t answer, but she saw the way his grip on the sword tightened. They weren’t alone anymore.

And whoever—or whatever—had attacked them wasn’t done yet but now is not the time.

"Let's leave"