CHAPTER 455: A SWIFT ARM

"No!" Isaac snapped, voice cracking with a sudden, fierce heat that made Arabella flinch. He shook his head so hard the lantern light picked out the angles of his jaw. "I would never betray you. For Morpheus? Never. I— I would sooner tear out my own tongue than become one of his eyes for him! I could never, milady I haven’t been with you for long but-"

Arabella’s eyes narrowed, "No, Isaac— that’s not what I meant. What I’m saying is this: if you were placed beside me on purpose, it isn’t for no reason. What I suspect is he had chosen someone who he knew distrust him the most but if all of a sudden you began to trust me, I wouldn’t have a choice but to also begin putting my whole trust on Morpheus. So perhaps someone other than eyes had been placed to eye on us."

Isaac’s face fell as the idea settled into him. He ran a hand through his hair, guilt and surprise warring across his features. "True," he said quietly. "Lord Morpheus— he does have ways. He’s thoughtful enough to plan years ahead. If he wanted someone near you who would appear honest, he could place them without you knowing."

Arabella paced a small arc, measuring the floor, "I don’t want to believe it," she admitted, though her tone had the crispness of metal. "If I finally misjudge him, I’ll apologize. I will lay my pride in the dust. But I won’t be led by comfort into surrender. I’ve felt too many lies breathe close to me lately." Her hand brushed one of the shelves as she passed; the thought of falling into his plan unsettled her, "We need facts. Not feelings."

Isaac, still knotted with worry, opened his mouth and then closed it. "Milady—" he began, voice small. "Was Lord Morpheus the reason you were crying last night?"

Arabella’s smile was dry, humorless. "No. He won’t get the satisfaction of my tears." Her fingers tightened into a fist for a second, not from anger at Isaac but at the idea of being toyed with. "If he’s the one behind this, I’ll make him the one to shed water from his eyes."

They had not finished arranging the map of the runes when the hidden door behind the tapestry burst open like a struck drum. Stone and dust fluttered. A wind of cold and authority spilled into the chamber, and Morpheus strode in— not the composed, lacquered figure who kept his composure like a mask, but a man unmade by haste: silver hair rumpled, robe flaring, a crease of urgency cutting across his brow. He took the room in at a glance: the mapped runes on the floor, the lantern sitting beside the book pile, the way Arabella and Isaac were nowhere to be found inside the forbidden room.

"They must be here somewhere, search them now," ordered Morpheus without moving his position, ordering the men cloaked behind him who had immediately rushed to take the books off the shelves, searching for the two in such haste as if they were going to murder them once they locate them.

But Arabella was watching everything. With invisibility magic, she could do what others couldn’t, hide behind the walls, turning into one of the red bricks in the room without ever being located.

"Ever being located" she would like to admit but the fact is, Morpheus is also a great sorcerer. If he wanted to, finding her shouldn’t be too difficult. So she was at her highest guard, eyes carefully darting back and forth to where he was going.

"The monster isn’t here, milord," said one of the men, "It could be magic."

"It must have been a magic that obscure’s one eyes."

"But she couldn’t have remembered that creature," Morpheus clicked his tongue, as his green eyes suddenly darted to where she stood. She froze, her body almost shutting down and that made her realize that though she couldn’t remember clearly, something in her fear him.

"She must still be here," Morpheus then stepped toward her and she could only froze in place, wondering how he could have seen her when he hadn’t even used magic the slightest. It didn’t make sense-

Isaac tugged her by her elbow, bringing her away from her position and from there she saw how Morpheus had made his way straight from her side, walking toward the wall she had once stood in front of.

He then touched the wall and she saw how it opened, disappearing with magic.

Another room!

She glanced at Isaac who nodded in response, sharing the knowing gaze that they both have been fooled.

"Not here either," Morpheus muttered as he walked inside. He raised his finger, touching one of the books, "No trace of her ever opening this."

"It’s what is most important, we should be grateful that she hadn’t opened this room at all," someone uttered and Morpheus’s expression turned frigid.

Whatever that book was, Arabella thought of touching it, stealing from under his nose but with his focus on it, she couldn’t. The only thing she could last resort on was to bite down her lips and backed away when Isaac who hadn’t paid much attention to his surrounding has knocked on one of the books near him, causing for it to fall.

The book hit the floor with a hollow thud that shattered the fragile silence.

Isaac froze, horror blanching his face.

Morpheus’s head turned at once. His green eyes, so sharp they could slice the air itself, narrowed like a predator scenting blood. He didn’t move at first— only tilted his head slightly, as though listening to something neither of them could hear. Then his lips curved into a thin, merciless smile.

"So," he murmured, his voice calm— too calm, the kind that promised something far worse than anger. "Invisibility, is it? Clever."

Arabella’s hand snapped to Isaac’s wrist, pulling him toward the shadowed edge of the chamber. Her pulse thundered beneath her skin; every nerve screamed to run, to flee before he saw through them. She had used the invisibility spell countless times before, but Morpheus was not like ordinary men. He felt magic the way others felt heat.

He lifted one gloved hand into the air, his fingertips trailing faint ribbons of pale green light. The air shimmered as if struck by heat, and the runes beneath their feet began to glow faintly — pulsing, responding to his command.

"Do you think," he said softly, "that the unseen are beyond my reach? Magic leaves traces, Arabella. Even the breath you take leaves ripples when it’s cloaked."

Isaac tugged her again, his hand slick with sweat. "We need to move," he hissed under his breath, voice trembling. "Now, milady—now."

"Down," she whispered, eyes darting toward the far wall. "The passage below the library—behind the west shelves. Go before he—"

Her words cut short as Morpheus’s gaze swept closer, dragging through the air like a net of cold fire. The spell’s light chased through the dust motes, mapping the outlines of where they should not be.

Arabella clutched Isaac’s arm and bolted. The sound of their boots against the ancient stone was swallowed by the spell, but her heart pounded too loud, too fast. They slipped between the shelves, books brushing their invisible shoulders, pages fluttering as if whispering secrets to their passing.

At the far end of the chamber, Arabella pressed her palm against a small iron symbol carved into the wall. It was cold — too cold — but it answered her touch with a faint click.

Stone shifted. A narrow passage yawned open before them, exhaling a draft that smelled of wet earth and forgotten air. The stairway spiraled down into darkness so deep it seemed to drink the lamplight from above.

"Go," she breathed, pushing Isaac first.

They descended quickly, the sound of their own breaths echoing in the confined space. The walls dripped with condensation, slick and cold beneath their fingertips. Every few steps, a stone groaned beneath their weight — a reminder that the castle itself was listening.

Behind them, the murmur of voices began to rise — Morpheus’s soldiers.

"She’s close," one of them said, muffled but clear.

Arabella’s stomach knotted. She grabbed Isaac’s arm and pushed him lower into the winding dark, their steps faster now, their breaths uneven.

Then — a flare of light from above.

Morpheus’s voice drifted down the stairwell, smooth and cruelly amused. "Do you think I cannot hear your heart, Arabella? You were always the loudest thing in a quiet room."

"Keep going," she mouthed, though her throat was dry as dust.

Isaac turned to protest — but the sound of approaching boots silenced him. Morpheus’s men were descending.

A hand shot out of the shadows and grabbed her wrist.

She gasped — ready to fight, ready to burn whoever it was alive with the remaining charge of her spell. But before she could strike, the hand pulled her forward, hard.

The world tilted. The wall spun.

And suddenly, she and Isaac were swallowed by blackness — not the kind that comes from lack of light, but the kind that erases it. The door sealed behind them with a silent shudder, cutting off the glow of Morpheus’s magic above.

Her breath caught in her throat. The only sound left was her own heartbeat — and the quiet exhale of the stranger beside her.

"Stay still," the voice whispered — low, deep, and close enough that she could feel the warmth of it against her ear. "If you move, he’ll hear."

Arabella didn’t move. But her heart thudded harder, her thoughts whirling through one realization:

Whoever had hidden her... wasn’t one of her allies.