CHAPTER 47: CHAPTER 47: WITNESS?

Thud.

The door closed.

The sound was small, ordinary, like wood kissing its frame. Yet to Luna’s ears, it struck louder than thunder. It rippled through her chest, a tremor that made her heart quiver and stumble.

Her golden eyes widened—no, they shook. She had seen it. Aiden, the servant, the outsider who should never have been allowed to rise above the dust on his boots... slowly pushing the door shut behind her, arms still wrapped around her—The viscountess herself.

Her aunt.

For a suspended second her breath abandoned her, and the world slowed. She pressed her hand against her mouth, fingertips trembling so violently she thought they might tear her lips apart.

What had she seen? No—what had she really seen?

She wanted to scream, to break the silence of the hall with all the voice she had left inside her, but a fear, sharp and cold, kept her throat tight. What if they heard? What if Aunt Catherine noticed? What if the wrong word slipped free and everything turned against her?

The mansion walls, tall and adorned with portraits of her ancestors, seemed to lean inward, listening, their oil-painted gazes filled with judgment.

Flora wasn’t enough for him... he touched her mother, and her own Aunt Cathe too?

Her mind reeled, images overlapping, colliding—Flora’s gentle eyes dimmed by shame, her cousin’s laughter snuffed into silence, and now Catherine’s lips near Aiden’s own, the way her body leaned not with reluctance but with surrender.

A hot pang struck her chest, and she pressed harder against her own mouth.

This wasn’t just betrayal—it was something blacker, deeper.

She staggered back one step. Then another. Her shoulder brushed the cold wall, and she shuddered as though the stone itself had witnessed the act and branded her with its silence.

What is happening inside this house? What poison is spreading beneath its roof?

The hallway stretched endlessly before her. She turned and fled, her footsteps quick and frantic, every strike echoing like a guilty confession. Tears welled and broke, streaking down her cheeks, hot against the cool air.

’This man... this vile man. The words he spoke that first day at the gates—they were not just words. He is doing it. Piece by piece, hand by hand, he is swallowing this mansion whole. Flora. Catherine. Who next? My mother?’

The thought cracked through her skull like glass. She could not contain it.

Her body obeyed instinct, pulling her down the familiar corridors until she burst toward her mother’s guest chamber.

"Mother! Mother!" Her cry splintered against the doorframe as she shoved it open.

But the bed was empty. The air smelled of lavender soap and fresh linens. A cluster of maids busied themselves with cloth and broom, their heads bowing so quickly when she appeared that it seemed rehearsed.

"Where is my mother?!" Luna’s voice fractured, desperation grinding her words raw.

The maids froze, frightened as rabbits caught in torchlight.

A voice emerged from the side, soft yet steady. "My lady Luna?"

Akidna.

She approached swiftly, her expression one of concern—but in her eyes, behind the polished worry, something unreadable flickered.

"The lady duchess is bathing," Akidna said. "What has happened?" She stopped short when she saw the tears trembling at Luna’s chin.

Luna clenched her fists, her throat tight with rage. "Aiden! That servant! He’s—he’s—"

Akidna’s eyes widened. Then, in a sudden movement, she pressed her hand firmly over Luna’s mouth. "Shhh." Her whisper was like a knife drawn in the dark. "Not here. Not aloud."

She pulled Luna gently, yet insistently, away from the maids and into the hall, scanning quickly to ensure no one lingered. Her grip was warm but firm, her face close.

"Lady Luna," she whispered again, eyes sharp, "words like these cannot be spoken where ears may drink them. Do you understand?"

Luna’s chest heaved. She nodded reluctantly.

"But... but Aunt Cathe," Luna whispered when Akidna’s hand lowered. Her voice broke. "She’s loyal, I thought—she was loyal—how could she—"

"Shhh." Again, Akidna’s voice hushed her, a repeated blade, slicing her words down before they could breathe.

Akidna’s thoughts tangled. She had known suspicion lurked in Luna’s eyes ever since the girl first whispered doubts about Aiden. She had dismissed it as the paranoia of a young noble unused to cracks in her perfect world.

She should have silenced her then, decisively, before those suspicions grew teeth. But she hadn’t. And now—now they gnawed too deep.

Her chest tightened with regret. Too late.

Akidna drew Luna into her arms, pressing the trembling girl against her shoulder. "It’s alright," she whispered, fingers stroking her hair. "It will be fine." The lie sat heavy on her tongue, but her tone never faltered.

Luna clung to her, the contact grounding her for the first time since she fled the doorway. Her sobs softened into hiccupped breaths.

"I know where Lord Augustus is," Akidna murmured. Her words dripped with softness, but inside they struck like iron. "We’ll go to him. Tell him everything. He will set it right. Aiden....Aiden will be punished."

Hope flickered in Luna’s golden eyes. She nodded, wiping at her cheeks, too quick to trust the promise.

Akidna turned, catching the subtle glances of the maids who had been listening. Loyal not to Luna, not to the duchess, but to Aiden. She nodded once. They returned the gesture, almost invisible, yet binding.

This would end tonight.

Her face softened again as she held Luna’s hand. "Come, my lady. Lord Augustus is inspecting the servants’ quarters. We’ll find him there."

Luna’s grip tightened. She followed, though her breath trembled.

The further they walked, the darker the corridors grew. The warmth of the noble chambers faded into damp chill. Lanterns thinned, shadows multiplied, and silence pressed heavy.

Luna’s steps faltered. Her instincts screamed, but her trust in Akidna pushed her forward.

Figures emerged from the dim—a butcher with blood still staining his apron, a guard with shoulders like stone, a baker dusted in flour, a maid Luna half-recognized. They closed in, one step at a time.

Confusion furrowed her brow. "Where is Uncle Augustus? Why... why are these people here?"

Akidna’s chest clenched. For a fleeting second she saw the girl for what she was—just eighteen, still innocent enough to believe love and loyalty were permanent, still fragile enough to think the world obeyed rules.

Akidna whispered, almost to herself: "my lady....."

There was a bit if guilt lingering, as her heart told her, ".....Forgive me."

Luna’s golden eyes flared wide. The tone, the guilt—she knew instantly. Her heart seized. She was dumb, yes but not this dumb.

"You," she gasped, shoving Akidna backward. Betrayal seared through her like fire. "You’re with him too!"

Her voice cracked with fury. "You filthy peasants! All of you the same!"

Her hand surged with mana, radiant and wild. Air thickened as though the mansion itself held its breath. With a flick, she seized Akidna’s throat in invisible iron.

Akidna’s body jerked upward, legs kicking, throat straining, eyes bulging.

"I should never have trusted you. Not Flora. Not anyone!" Luna’s scream echoed, each syllable rattling the narrow halls.

Akidna clawed at her neck, vision darkening. Her lips parted, gasping, but no sound escaped. Her lungs clawed for air as Luna’s golden gaze burned through her.

"You dare bite the hand that fed you? You think you can steal my uncle’s land, my family’s blood, our name?" Luna’s hand tightened, trembling with rage and hurt, her words spilling like curses.

Her fury mounted, the mana around her crackling.

But before she could finish the incantation that burned on her tongue, a shadow surged behind her.

Cornish. The butcher. His hand smothered her mouth with a cloth soaked in bitter fumes.

The potion hit her nose, sharp and metallic, sinking instantly into her lungs. Luna struggled, muffled screams rising, her body thrashing with wild sparks of mana—but the fumes were stronger.

Her arms weakened, fingers slipping, and Akidna fell hard to the stone floor, coughing violently.

"Hhhhaaahhh—hhhhhhuuuuuhhh!" Akidna gasped, each breath tearing her throat raw.

Tanya, the maid, rushed to her, gripping her shoulders. "Breathe, mistress, breathe!"

Luna’s body sagged in Cornish’s arms, the folds of her gown sliding open, pale skin glinting in lantern light. Her golden eyes fluttered, then closed, her fury smothered under layers of drugged sleep.

John, the guard, shifted uneasily. His hand trembled near his sword. "What... what now?" His voice cracked. "That’s the duchess’s daughter. If this is found out—we’re finished. They’ll hang us all."

The butcher’s knuckles whitened on his grip. The baker swallowed hard, flour dust drifting from his tunic.

Akidna, still coughing, forced herself to stand with Tanya’s help. Her chest burned with every inhale. She looked at them, then at the unconscious girl sprawled before them—high blood, heir, innocent and blind.

"...He will come," she whispered, voice hoarse, but steady. "And he will decide."

Cornish shifted. "You mean... Aiden."

Akidna’s eyes hardened, though her voice trembled with pain. "Yes. Have faith. He is more than a man. If anything can save us from this... it will be him."

Her words were both vow and prayer.

The servants, one by one, nodded. Even in their fear, something in her tone—something almost holy—anchored them.

They lifted Luna’s unconscious body, carrying her deeper into shadow, away from the noble halls, toward a place hidden.

Akidna’s throat throbbed, but her thoughts throbbed louder.

She had betrayed the girl’s trust. She had crushed innocence with her own hands. And yet, even now, a sliver of her heart whispered: What if we are wrong? What if the miracle never comes?

But she silenced it, as she had silenced Luna’s words. But more than her doubts, her love for him was stronger...much much stronger.