Xana froze, the weight of the ornately carved chest a crushing burden in her arms. The flickering light from her torch danced grotesquely across the intruder's face, momentarily blurring their features. Her mind raced, adrenaline flooding her system.
"Who's there?" a stern voice demanded.
The voice belonged to Seraphina, the head librarian, a woman known for her sharp wit and even sharper tongue. Xana wasn't sure if relief or dread was the stronger emotion. Seraphina wasn't a guard, but her discovery in the archives could be just as bad.
"It's just me, Seraphina," Xana stammered, forcing a calmness she didn't feel. "I lost my way while delivering a message for the Head Maid."
Seraphina's eyes narrowed, taking in Xana's disheveled state and the telltale chest clutched tightly in her arms. The flickering torchlight cast an accusing glint in them.
"Lost, are you?" Seraphina's voice dripped with suspicion. "The archives are off-limits to servants, especially at this hour. And what, pray tell, are you carrying?"
Panic clawed at Xana's throat. She couldn't reveal the contents of the chest, but she needed a convincing lie, and fast. Her eyes darted around the room, landing on a stack of forgotten scrolls near the entrance.
"Cleaning supplies, Seraphina," she blurted out. "The Head Maid asked me to dust these old scrolls. They were gathering dust, you see."
Seraphina's gaze flickered towards the scrolls, then back to Xana. The silence stretched on, each passing second an eternity. Finally, Seraphina let out a sigh, a sound of weary resignation.
"Look, girl," she said, her voice softer now. "I know the palace can be a confusing place. Especially at night. But these archives are no place for a clumsy servant. Stick to your duties, and stay out of trouble."
Relief washed over Xana, warm and intoxicating. "Thank you, Seraphina," she stammered, bowing low. "I promise, I won't make a habit of it."
Seraphina grunted, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "See that you don't," she said. "Now be off with you. And next time, be more careful."
As Seraphina turned and began to walk away, Xana wasted no time. She scurried towards the exit, clutching the chest to her chest like a lifeline. Reaching the heavy oak door, she slipped out into the dimly lit hallway, the echoing click of the lock swallowed by the oppressive silence.
Leaning against the cool stone wall, Xana took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. She had narrowly escaped discovery, but the danger was far from over. Seraphina's presence in the archives at this ungodly hour was unsettling. Was she onto something? And if so, how much did she know about Xana's true identity?
More importantly, what was Xana going to do now? The documents in the chest confirmed her worst fears. She wasn't just Xana, the lowly servant girl. She was Amara, a fugitive harboring a secret that could condemn her to death.
A fire, hotter than fear, ignited within her. She wouldn't cower in the shadows any longer. The truth about her past, the betrayal that led her to the palace, demanded answers. But how could she find them, a nameless servant in a vast and unforgiving city? As she stared down the long, dimly lit hallway, a flicker of movement in the distance caught her eye. A lone figure emerged from the shadows, shrouded in darkness.
Her heart hammered against her ribs. Could it be a guard? Had Seraphina alerted someone of her presence in the archives? Or was it someone else entirely – someone who held the key to unlocking the secrets of her past and the future that awaited her?