The Morning Shifted

Morning in the Vale Estate was always the same.

The scent of citrus oil and rosewater. Sunlight spilling through ivory-curtained windows. The soft hush of slippers on polished marble. Polite silence wrapped in elegance and repetition.

Lady Seraphine Vale sat at her vanity, allowing her maid, Lysa, to brush out her hair. She didn't need help, but the routine mattered. The appearance of normalcy was part of the armor.

“Tea, my lady?” Lysa asked, voice gentle.

“Yes. Jasmine.”

Jasmine calmed her nerves. Not that Seraphine was nervous. Just… watchful.

After last night’s meeting with Celestine, her instincts buzzed louder than ever. Someone else was waking up. Maybe many.

She sipped her tea slowly, eyes flicking to the morning scroll laid out on the side table.

LORD ADRIEN VANCE TO ATTEND VALE HOUSE BREAKFAST

PRINCE CAEL ARDENT ACCEPTS ROYAL INVITATION TO REMAIN IN CAPITAL

CHARITY BALL PLANS CONTINUE AT ROYAL HALL

Nothing dramatic. Not yet.

But “normal” was beginning to feel like a performance. Like the entire house was reading from a script she’d already rewritten.

Downstairs, the breakfast room gleamed in soft golds and creams. Fresh bread, spiced eggs, seasonal fruit. Everything set perfectly, every fork aligned.

Adrien arrived as expected—on time, impeccably dressed, with that same composed confidence that once made her heart skip.

He bowed slightly when he saw her. “Seraphine.”

“Lord Adrien,” she replied.

He raised a brow. “Titles now?”

“We’ve both changed.”

He smiled faintly and sat beside her. “So it seems. You’re colder lately.”

“And you’re not stabbing me today. Progress all around.”

A flicker of tension passed through his posture. He masked it well, but she caught it.

Good. Let him feel it.

He poured himself tea. “I came to check on you. There were rumors you disappeared during the banquet. Something about a prince in a greenhouse?”

“And you believed them?” she said coolly.

“I don’t know what to believe with you anymore.”

“That makes two of us.”

He looked at her then—not with affection, not exactly. But something quieter. Like he was trying to remember who she used to be.

Seraphine didn’t flinch. That girl was gone.

They ate in silence for a few moments. Polite. Controlled. Measured.

Then Adrien set down his cup. “You know the Emperor will ask about your behavior.”

“I’m sure he will.”

“You’ve always been… efficient. Predictable.”

“Useful, you mean.”

His jaw tightened. “That’s not what I—”

“It is.”

Silence.

Then Seraphine leaned forward slightly. “Tell me, Adrien. In the last timeline, what were my last words?”

His brows furrowed. “What?”

“You hesitated,” she said. “That’s answer enough.”

He stood abruptly. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, Seraphine—”

“Then learn quickly. Because I’m not dying for you this time.”

Adrien stared at her for a long beat. Then gave a stiff bow and left the room without a word.

After he left, Seraphine stood and walked slowly toward the window, letting the sunlight wash over her. Her reflection appeared faintly in the glass.

And something shifted.

The window rippled—not like water. Like film. For a split second, the image in the glass distorted. Her reflection smiled—but she hadn’t.

Then it snapped back. Clean. Still.

Her heart beat once. Hard.

She turned, fast.

No servants. No wind. Nothing disturbed.

But the air… felt wrong. Thinner. Like the narrative had blinked.

She pressed a hand to the windowpane. It was cold. Real.

Still, she whispered: “You’re slipping, aren’t you?”

No answer.

But she knew the world was watching. Adjusting. Trying to close the gap.

Too late.

She wasn’t just awake now.

She was alert.

And she wasn’t alone

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