After breakfast, Lyra wandered through the endless corridors of the castle, Eryss draped lazily around her shoulders. The snake had been surprisingly quiet since their conversation, occasionally flicking her tongue as if tasting the air.
"Are you even paying attention to where you're going?" Eryss finally muttered, breaking the silence.
Lyra glanced at the towering walls lined with faded tapestries and cracked stone carvings. "Not really," she admitted. "I'm just… exploring."
"Exploring," Eryss drawled, her tone skeptical. "That's how most people in cursed castles end up dead. Just saying."
"Noted," Lyra replied dryly, pushing open a large oak door. It creaked loudly, revealing a massive library that stretched farther than her eyes could see.
The room was breathtaking. Shelves of ancient tomes reached up to a vaulted ceiling painted with constellations. Dust motes floated in the warm, golden light filtering through narrow stained-glass windows.
Lyra stepped inside, her awe momentarily silencing Eryss. "This is… incredible," she breathed, running her fingers along the spines of books that looked older than time itself.
Eryss slithered off her shoulders and onto a nearby table. "Just don't knock anything over. I'd rather not have Caelan blame me for your clumsiness."
Lyra shot her a playful glare and wandered deeper into the library, her fingers brushing against the intricate carvings on the shelves. She paused in front of a tall ladder leaning precariously against one of the higher rows.
Curiosity got the better of her, and she began climbing. "What could possibly be so interesting up there?" Eryss called from below.
"I don't know," Lyra replied, her voice slightly strained as she ascended. "But I'm about to find out."
She reached for a thick, leather-bound book with a gilded spine. Just as her fingers closed around it, the ladder wobbled.
"Uh-oh," she whispered.
The ladder tilted further, and in an instant, Lyra's world spun. She let out a yelp as she fell, the air rushing past her.
Before she could hit the ground, strong arms caught her, the sudden stop stealing the breath from her lungs. She blinked, her heart racing, and found herself staring up at Caelan's face.
"Careful," he said, his voice low and steady.
Lyra's breath hitched. She'd never been this close to him before. His face, usually half-hidden by scars, was completely smooth where her hand brushed against his cheek in her scramble to steady herself.
The scars were gone.
His features were stunning, as if carved by some divine hand. High cheekbones, a strong jaw, and those eyes—sea blue, deep and mesmerizing. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe.
Caelan's expression shifted, his usual cold demeanor cracking as something unspoken passed between them. His gaze flicked to her hand, still resting lightly on his cheek, and a flicker of vulnerability flashed in his eyes before he quickly masked it.
Lyra realized what she was doing and yanked her hand away, her cheeks burning. "I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
He set her on her feet gently but stepped back as though her touch had scalded him. His jaw clenched, his usual distance returning like a shield.
"What were you doing up there?" he asked, his voice clipped.
"I—I was just looking," Lyra stammered, still flustered. She glanced at the ladder, then back at him, her heart still hammering. "Thank you for catching me."
Caelan didn't respond immediately. His gaze lingered on her, and she could have sworn she saw conflict in his eyes—something unsure and raw. But then he turned away, his expression hardening.
"Be more careful next time," he said, his tone curt.
Lyra swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. "Right. Careful. Got it."
She glanced down at her hands, the lingering warmth from his touch making her skin tingle. He'd felt it too—she was sure of it. For a fleeting moment, there had been something between them, a spark that neither of them could explain.
Eryss, who had been watching from the table with a mixture of amusement and exasperation, finally broke the silence. "Well, that was dramatic. Honestly, you two are worse than a bad romance novel."
Lyra shot the snake a glare, her face heating up further. "Not. Helping."
Caelan ignored both of them, walking to a nearby shelf and pulling a book as if nothing had happened. "If you're going to wander around the castle, try not to destroy anything," he said without looking at her.
Lyra bristled at his tone but decided not to argue. "I'll keep that in mind," she muttered, brushing dust off her dress.
As he turned to leave, she found herself blurting out, "Wait."
Caelan paused, glancing back at her with a raised brow.
"Your scars," she said hesitantly, pointing to her own cheek. "They… they were gone. When I touched you."
He froze, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze distant as if lost in thought.
"It doesn't matter," he said finally, his tone dismissive.
"It does," Lyra insisted, stepping closer. "You felt it, didn't you? Whatever this is… it's connected to me."
Caelan's eyes darkened, a storm brewing behind them. "Stay out of it, Lyra. You don't understand what you're dealing with."
Before she could respond, he turned and left, his footsteps echoing through the library.
Lyra stood there, her heart still racing as her mind swirled with questions. Eryss slithered onto her shoulder, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. "Well, that was… interesting."
Lyra sighed, leaning against the nearest table. "Interesting doesn't even begin to cover it."
The library seemed quieter now, the air thick with the weight of something unspoken. Lyra stared at the book she'd been reaching for, wondering just how deep the castle's secrets went—and what her part in all of this truly was.