Chapter 2 – The Hollow Ghost

  For days, the rain had drummed softly against the high windows of House Caelistra-Veyrath like a forgotten melody. Unwelcome, but impossible to ignore. It painted the stone walls in cold, silver light and filled the air with a kind of sadness that stuck to the skin. The manor stood tall and proud, towering over its manicured gardens and black-iron gates, but inside, it was colder than the storm outside.

  Lilienne moved quietly through the halls, arms tucked close against her sides, her slippered steps barely making a sound on the polished floors. The tapestries and grand paintings stared down at her as she passed. They were beautiful, she supposed, reds and golds, deep shades of wine and forest green, but none of them looked familiar. They were of people she didn't know. Veyraths of old. Generals and governors, previous high ranked nobles, daughters in gowns and sons with swords. None of them smiled.

  None of them looked like her.

  Cassian, the eldest daughter, was born of Grand Duke Thaddeus' first wife, the previous Grand Duchess of house Veyrath. She was an uncanny image of her mother, poised and statuesque, with her father's cutting silver eyes.

  Seraphyne, the youngest, was born after Lilienne. She was a blend of Thaddeus and Isalyn with her dark hair, mint green eyes, and a playful smirk she wore like a badge.

  Lilienne kept walking. She didn't know where she was going. She rarely did anymore. But it was better than lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for time to pass. The manor was so big, and yet she never felt like she fit anywhere inside it.

  Sometimes she would stop by the balcony that overlooked the garden. The rain blurred the view now, but she could still make out the shapes: marble statues, hedges trimmed into perfect lines, the distant shimmer of the reflecting pool. It was quiet down there. Peaceful. But she had learned long ago that beauty didn't mean comfort. Not here.

  Not in this house.

  Her fingers tightened around the folds of her sleeve as she turned away. Her room was down the east wing, but she didn't want to go back yet. Not when she knew what waited there: silence, cold sheets, and a letter she still hadn't found the courage to read again.

  Instead, her feet carried her to the grand staircase, where golden banisters curved downward into the central foyer. From above, she could see the wide double doors, shut tightly, and the servants flitting in and out of side corridors with quick, trained movements. None of them looked up at her. None ever did.

  Her eyes drifted toward the study on the right side of the hall. The door was slightly open.

  Voices came from within.

  Cassian's tone was cool, firm, intelligent. Lilienne couldn't make out all the words, but she heard enough to know they were discussing House DeLacroix. Her half-sister's voice was sharp with curiosity and laced with ambition.

  Then came another voice. Deeper. Quiet. Steady.

  Grand Duke Thaddeus.

  Lilienne's breath caught in her throat at the sound. Even now, after all this time, hearing his voice made her feel like a child again, an intruder in someone else's home.

  He never shouted. He didn't need to. His presence alone was a warning. And when he did act, it came with the sting of skin against skin, sudden and cruel. A slap. A backhand. Once, a shove that left her shoulder bruised for days. Always when Grand Duchess Isalyn wasn't watching. Always when Lilienne looked too much like him.

  She had her father's eyes.

  Grand Duke Thaddeus hated General Sirius Alistair Nocthrein.

  So he hated her, too.

  She turned away before the urge to look inside overcame her.

  She had tried once, months ago, to speak to him. She had stood outside the library doors, clutching the hem of her dress, building the courage to ask a simple question about the estate. She never got the words out. He had passed by her like she didn't exist. His eyes hadn't even flickered.

  That was the last time she had tried.

  Her mother, Grand Duchess Isalyn, had once said he was simply distant. A busy man. Not cruel, just hardened by war and responsibility. But she hadn't seen the way his silence carved deeper than words. She hadn't seen the moments of violence that followed when the doors were shut and no one else was watching.

  In this house, Lilienne was a ghost.

  And everyone liked it better that way.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  She descended the stairs slowly, fingers brushing the cool banister. The study doors closed behind her with a soft click, shutting away the voices. She crossed the foyer and headed toward the dining hall, more out of habit than hunger.

  When she arrived, the long table was already set. Silverware gleamed beneath the chandelier. Cassian sat near the head of the table, already in conversation with Seraphyne, who twirled a strand of her dark hair around one finger. Both sisters wore rich, tailored dresses. One in deep navy, the other in burgundy. They looked like they belonged in portraits.

  Lilienne sat several seats down, near the end of the table. Her own dress was simpler, faded lavender silk that once belonged to her mother's wardrobe. It didn't fit quite right.

  The Grand Duke entered moments later. He didn't look at her. He took his seat at the head, greeted his daughters with a nod, and began discussing the upcoming royal gathering. Lilienne didn't even get a glance.

  She sat still, staring at her untouched plate. She didn't speak. She knew better.

  The Grand Duchess arrived last, smiling politely, her golden hair swept into a perfect knot. She looked tired behind her eyes, though her face was flawless as ever. She took the seat beside Lilienne and gave her hand a small squeeze.

  "You should eat, Lily," she said gently. "Just a little."

  Lilienne didn't move.

  Isalyn turned toward Thaddeus. "She's still recovering. Maybe we-"

  But Thaddeus didn't respond. He didn't acknowledge her at all. He continued speaking to Cassian, as if Isalyn had said nothing.

  Lilienne swallowed hard, the tightness in her chest returning.

  Eventually, the meal ended. The servants cleared the plates. Thaddeus rose without a word and left the room, followed by Cassian and Seraphyne. Isalyn lingered, brushing a strand of Lilienne's hair from her face.

  "You're strong," she whispered. "You've always been."

  But strength felt like a memory, not a truth.

  Lilienne stood and left the dining hall, her steps slow, her body heavy. She didn't return to her room right away. Instead, she wandered again. Past the music room where Seraphyne sometimes played. Past the library where her father's portrait once hung before it was taken down. And into the small chamber at the end of the west wing.

  It was quiet here. Forgotten.

  She sank into the cushioned bench beneath the window, pulling her knees to her chest. Outside, the rain fell harder, blurring the garden below until it looked like a watercolor painting left out in the storm.

  She pulled the letter from her sleeve.

  The parchment was thick. The edges slightly worn. She had read it a dozen times already, but her eyes still moved across the words like they were new.

  "To the Daughter of General Sirius Alistair Nocthrein..."

  She had always known his name. Clung to it when the nights were too quiet and the walls too cold.

  General Sirius. Her father.

  He had died when she was eight. The stories were never the same. Illness. An accident. A mission gone wrong. Some whispered he had disappeared.

  But none of it had ever made sense.

  And now, someone claimed it wasn't an accident. That it hadn't been illness or duty or cowardice.

  That it was murder.

  That someone had silenced him. And covered it up.

  That she would find answers in the Kingdom of Voltheria.

  Her hands trembled as she folded the letter again. She tucked it back into her dress, close to her heart.

  She didn't know who had sent it. Only the sigil at the bottom offered a clue. House Lysarian, the apolitical house cloaked in beauty and silence, the one everyone whispered knew more than they ever said. Why them? Why now?

  Maybe someone out there still remembered.

  Still cared.

  A gust of wind rattled the windows.

  Lilienne pressed her forehead to the glass. The storm outside matched the one she'd carried in her chest for years. It wasn't just sadness anymore.

  It was anger. Quiet. Slow-burning. But alive.

  She had spent too long pretending not to mind being invisible. Too long shrinking herself into a shape that others found easier to ignore. Too long biting her tongue when cruelty disguised itself as duty.

  But something inside her was changing.

  That night, when she returned to her room, she stood in front of the mirror and really looked at herself. Her lavender hair fell loose over her shoulders. Her skin was pale. Her frame thinner than it used to be.

  But her eyes, once hollow, held something else now.

  Resolve.

  She wouldn't be a ghost forever.

  She wouldn't let her father's name be buried in silence.

  Something had been taken from her.

  And she was going to take it back.

  No matter what it cost.