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  Duke Vittorio d'Ambrazio sat at his desk, lost in thought, when a group of terrified servants burst into the room.

  "My Lord! The princess—Lady Serinitha—she has lost her mind!" one of them cried in panic.

  Another, breathless and shaken, added, "She has taken a knife to one of the maids! She’s threatening to set her on fire. The others tried to stop her, but she screamed, swearing that anyone who dared to come close would be dragged to hell along with that ‘whore’!"

  Vittorio exhaled deeply, pressing a hand to his forehead. His voice was rough, weighed down with exhaustion.

  "When did this happen?"

  As his mind sank into reflection, the memories unfolded before him.

  —

  At first, the rumors of Serinitha’s condition had seemed insignificant. She had been sitting alone in her room, silent, distant. He had assumed she was merely upset—perhaps because he had forbidden her from going to the gardens. But he had been wrong.

  His daughter was ill.

  She had come to him once, her eyes cold as ice, her voice like stones grinding together.

  "I need a doctor."

  How had he not noticed?

  —

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Tightening his grip on the chair, the Duke recalled his efforts to monitor her condition. He had asked her childhood friend and personal guard, Simon, to keep watch over her.

  Simon had reported everything—the strange shifts in her behavior, the way something seemed to be consuming all that had once made her Serinitha. Her bright smile, her laughter, her warmth—one by one, they had faded, leaving behind only a hollow shell.

  Vittorio had tried to bring back their shared memories, sitting with her at the dining table, watching her eat with slow, lifeless motions, as if every bite were a stone in her mouth. Did she resent him? Was it because he had not noticed her suffering sooner?

  Then, she had looked at him.

  A look he had seen before.

  —

  His thoughts were shattered when Serinitha herself stormed into the room, eyes blazing with fury, a knife raised high.

  "Tonight, you die."

  Vittorio froze. His mind refused to believe what was happening.

  What happened to my little girl?

  Serinitha’s voice rang out, sharp and filled with venom.

  "Your daughter?! You dare call me that, you wretched devil?"

  And then it struck him—the look in her eyes. It was not just rage.

  It was the gaze of a warrior ready to kill.

  "Why are you silent?" she spat. "Can someone as vile as you not comprehend? I never wanted to be your daughter. I have despised you since the day I was born! You are a selfish, wretched creature!"

  Her voice cracked with fury.

  "You murdered my mother in cold blood!"

  Vittorio’s breath caught.

  "Those eyes… They don’t hold hatred," he murmured. "They hold something else."

  Before he could react, Serinitha’s body shuddered. Blood trickled from her lips.

  She swayed, and with a metallic clang, the knife in her hand hit the floor.

  Her eyelids fluttered.

  And then, she collapsed.

  —

  "Get the doctor!" Vittorio roared, his voice raw with panic.

  As the servants rushed to carry her away, he sank into his chair, trembling, her words echoing in his mind.

  "She called me a devil."

  He rose, his steps slow and heavy, and made his way to the dungeon where the imprisoned physician awaited.

  —

  The doctor observed him carefully.

  "Tell me, Your Grace. What exactly is happening to the princess?"

  The Duke’s voice wavered.

  "I don’t know. She told me that poison would heal her—yet with every passing day, her condition worsens."

  The doctor exhaled.

  "Then release me."

  Vittorio’s jaw clenched.

  "How can I? My daughter accused me of murder tonight. She held a knife to my throat."

  His knees weakened, and he sank down, burying his face in his hands.

  "Just days ago, she was smiling, laughing."

  The doctor placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

  "This is no mere sickness, Duke. The princess can no longer distinguish reality from illusion. Her mind is slipping beyond our reach."

  He hesitated before continuing.

  "I know you imprisoned me because of the nobles—the political games and family feuds. You gave your word that I would remain unharmed, free to eat and sleep in peace."

  His voice softened.

  "But let me see her again. Let me help."

  He glanced toward the heavy prison door, his eyes dark with warning.

  "She turned against you so easily, her own father. Whatever is haunting her mind…"

  He looked back at the Duke.

  "We have no idea what else it might change."

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