"They speak of rewriting destiny, but can destiny be rewritten, or does it merely write back?"
***
The morning sun spilled over the palace gardens, gilding the marble pathways and waking the roses with its warm touch. Seraphina Aveline—no, Evelyn Monroe, as she stubbornly reminded herself—stepped into the crisp air, her pastel gown whispering against the grass as she walked. Sleep had eluded her, her thoughts an endless churn of questions and fragmented memories.
This world felt both foreign and achingly familiar.
Her feet carried her to the eastern fountain, its water catching the sunlight like liquid gold. She stared at its worn marble edge, a strange sense of déjà vu tightening in her chest. She knew this fountain. She'd never stood here before—at least, not as Evelyn—but Seraphina had. That knowledge was buried deep, like an instinct she couldn't unearth.
Evelyn knelt, brushing her hand against the cool stone. "How do I know this?" she murmured, her frustration spilling into the air. "It doesn't make sense."
The small bird perched on the fountain startled at her voice and fluttered away. She sighed, pulling her cloak tighter as she rose, her steps leading her to the cobbled streets of the noble district.
She walked without a clear goal, yet every turn felt deliberate. Before long, she found herself standing before the Aveline estate. The intricate iron gates gleamed in the morning light, their elegance matched by the white stone walls of the house beyond.
Her fingers brushed the gate as a wave of memories crashed over her: a child's laughter, the sharp sting of her father's reprimand, the heavy silence of loneliness. She drew back sharply, her heart twisting at the echoes of a life she'd inherited but never lived.
Her reverie was broken by the clatter of an approaching carriage. She stepped aside, pulling her hood over her head as two noblemen descended, their voices sharp with urgency.
"Are you certain it exists?" one of them asked, skepticism lacing his words.
"I saw it myself," the other insisted, his tone brimming with excitement. "The Golden Finger is real. The only question is who will claim it."
Evelyn froze, her breath catching. The Golden Finger.
She lingered in the shadow of the gate, her heart pounding as the conversation continued.
"They say it can rewrite destiny," the first man muttered. "A children's fable."
The second man shook his head. "Not a fable. A relic of unimaginable power. And it's hidden in the royal archives. But only the worthy can find it—if they can decipher the prophecy."
Evelyn's pulse quickened. Rewrite destiny? Could this be connected to why she was here?
She watched the men reenter their carriage and disappear down the road, her thoughts spinning. She had read about the Golden Finger in her previous life. It had been a subplot in the book—a mystical artifact, irrelevant to the main story. But now…
Her hands tightened on the gate. "Could it be why I'm here?" she whispered, the absurdity of the thought both terrifying and tantalizing.
The idea was absurd, but then again, so was everything else about her current predicament. She turned away from the gate and began walking, her steps quick and determined. The royal archives—the key to her questions—beckoned.
***
The library was quiet, the early hour granting her a rare moment of solitude. Evelyn ran her fingers along the spines of countless books, searching for any reference to the Golden Finger. The words of the noblemen echoed in her mind: rewrite destiny.
She finally found a slim volume, its cover embossed with intricate golden lettering. "The Lost Relics of the Elarith Kingdom." She opened it, her eyes scanning the pages hungrily.
"The Golden Finger," she read aloud, her voice a hushed whisper. "An artifact created by the first mage, said to channel the raw essence of fate itself."
Her breath hitched as she continued. "The wielder can alter the course of their life or another's, but only if their soul is worthy. Many have sought it, but none have succeeded."
She leaned back, the weight of the words sinking in. Could this be why she had been transported here? Was she being tested by fate itself?
She didn't hear the footsteps at first, too absorbed in her thoughts. It was the familiar, easy cadence of his voice that startled her.
"Lady Seraphina, reading so early in the morning? Should I be impressed or concerned?"
Evelyn looked up sharply, clutching the book to her chest. Kael Rotherford stood in the arched doorway, his emerald eyes twinkling with amusement. His dark green tunic, slightly unbuttoned at the collar, gave him a casual elegance that only Kael could pull off.
"Kael," she said, exhaling sharply. "Do you always sneak up on people like that?"
He stepped inside, his boots barely making a sound on the polished floor. "Only on you," he replied, a lopsided grin curving his lips. "You're much more interesting when you don't see me coming."
Evelyn rolled her eyes, tucking the book behind her back instinctively. "What do you want?"
Kael feigned a wounded look, placing a hand over his chest. "Is that any way to greet your dearest friend?"
"I wasn't aware you'd earned that title," she retorted, though her lips twitched at his theatrics.
"Well," he said, stepping closer, his grin softening into something more playful. "Let's see if I can't earn it now."
Evelyn arched an eyebrow. "By annoying me? A bold strategy."
Kael leaned against the table beside her, his proximity disarming. He reached out lazily and plucked the book from behind her back before she could stop him.
"What have we here?" he asked, holding the book just out of her reach. "'The Lost Relics of the Elarith Kingdom.' Planning to rewrite history, are we?"
"Give it back," she said, trying to sound stern, but there was a note of exasperated laughter in her voice.
Kael held the book higher, his grin turning mischievous. "Not until you tell me why you're so interested in destiny. Trying to escape yours, perhaps?"
Evelyn rose to her feet, narrowing the space between them. "And if I am?" she shot back, her tone sharp but light.
His gaze flicked to hers, his grin softening into something more intimate. "Then I'd say it's about time you stopped running. Destiny's more fun when you embrace it."
She reached for the book, but Kael pulled it behind his back, forcing her closer. "Kael," she warned, though her voice lacked any real venom.
He tilted his head, his emerald eyes sparkling with mischief. "You know, if you wanted me to hold you this close, all you had to do was ask."
Evelyn froze for a heartbeat, caught off guard by his teasing. The warmth of his words was matched by the faint brush of his hand grazing hers as he passed the book back to her.
"There," he said softly, his voice dropping just enough to make her heart flutter. "I wouldn't want you to think I'm a thief. At least, not today."
She clutched the book to her chest, trying to ignore the heat rising to her cheeks. "You're insufferable," she muttered, stepping back to put some distance between them.
Kael smirked, leaning casually against the table again. "And yet, you tolerate me. Curious, isn't it?"
"Barely," she shot back, but her smile betrayed her.
He stepped closer again, closing the gap with deliberate ease. This time, his voice softened, the teasing edge replaced by something quieter, more intimate. "Seraphina, what are you looking for?"
She hesitated, his gaze pinning her in place. His hand reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. The gesture was light, almost imperceptible, but it sent a shiver down her spine.
"I…" She faltered, her defenses threatening to crumble under the weight of his attention. "I'm looking for answers."
Kael tilted his head, his voice a low murmur. "To what? The questions keeping you up at night? Or the ones you're too afraid to ask?"
Evelyn's chest tightened. "Both," she admitted softly, her gaze dropping to the floor.
Kael stepped even closer, his hand gently tipping her chin up so her eyes met his. "You don't have to face it alone," he said, his voice steady but achingly tender.
"I'm not sure I have a choice," she replied, her words heavy with vulnerability she rarely allowed herself to show.
His thumb grazed her jaw, a fleeting touch that felt like a promise. "You always have a choice," he murmured. "You just have to trust someone enough to let them help you."
Evelyn blinked, the weight of his words sinking into her. "Do you really think I'm capable of that?"
Kael's smile returned, soft and disarming. "Oh, I know you are. But convincing you? Now, that's the real challenge."
She let out a soft laugh, the tension easing just enough to let her breathe. "You think you're so clever, don't you?"
"Not just clever," he replied, his grin turning wicked. "Charming, too."
She rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered. "You're impossible."
"And yet," he said, stepping back with a small bow, "here you are, still putting up with me."
Evelyn shook her head, her heart lighter despite herself. "Go away, Kael. Don't you have somewhere to be?"
He paused at the doorway, turning back with a smirk that made her stomach flip. "Not anywhere more interesting than here. But I'll leave you to your secrets. For now."
As his footsteps faded, Evelyn exhaled, clutching the book to her chest. Kael's warmth lingered in the air, a reminder that even in the solitude she sought, there was someone willing to stand by her side.
"Rewrite destiny," she murmured, her thoughts pulling her back to the book. But for the first time in days, the weight of it didn't feel quite so heavy.