A Broken Inheritance

Chapter 47: Untold Truths

Chapter 47: Untold Truths

The halls were quieter than usual.

Not in the way they were late at night, when the only sound was the distant shifting of the castle's foundations, the whisper of wind through high windows, the soft creak of ancient wooden beams settling into place.

This was a different kind of quiet.

The kind that followed after something had shifted, after something irreversible had taken place. The kind of quiet that wasn't truly silent at all, but filled with whispers too hushed to make out, the weight of a hundred eyes tracking her movements without ever meeting her gaze.

Anastasia walked, as she always did, head high, shoulders straight.

She ignored the glances cast her way, the murmured words slipping just out of reach.

She had grown used to whispers. Had learned to tune them out long ago—the thinly veiled contempt, the well-practiced sneers, the way her name was spoken with a sharp, biting edge. But this was different.

This wasn't disgust.

It was fear.

The realisation settled in her bones before she could name it.

She had once thought she would like this. Being feared. Being untouchable. Being respected in the only way that had ever truly mattered.

But now—

Now, it only made her feel further away from everything. From everyone.

Her pulse was steady, her steps measured, but beneath it all, there was something else.

An itching sensation just under her skin.

A pressure that hadn't been there before.

She wasn't numb, not like she had been for weeks. That strange, vacant fog that had dulled her thoughts was gone, burned away by something restless, something she didn't understand.

It wasn't a feeling she recognised.

Not dread. Not exhaustion. Not grief, though she was well acquainted with all three.

No—this was something sharper, something harder to shake. A coil of tension wound too tight in her chest. A quiet, uneasy hum vibrating at the base of her skull.

The kind of feeling that told her something had been set into motion.

And she didn't know what it was.

Anastasia exhaled slowly, steadying herself, but it didn't help. Her body still felt wrong—like a thread pulled too tight, fraying at the edges.

She needed to understand.

What had happened in the Great Hall—that power, that magic—it hadn't just been raw strength. It had been something else entirely.

Something unnatural.

Something that felt like it had always been there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting.

Her fingers twitched at her sides.

She wasn't going back to her dorm just yet.

***

The library was nearly empty at this hour.

A few students lingered, hunched over parchment, quills scratching softly in the candlelight. The air smelled of ink, of old paper, of melted wax pooling at the bases of brass candleholders. Shadows stretched long across the wooden tables, flickering with each shifting flame.