The night had grown silent.
Moonlight streamed through the half— drawn curtains, silvering every corner of Miralen's room. She lay still on her bed, but sleep refused to come. Her mind whirled— images flashing one after another: the ruined cathedral, the glowing veins, the portrait that had changed, and the map sealed behind glass.
She turned on her side, shut her eyes again— but the thought wouldn't leave. The map.
With a sigh, she sat up, her sheets crumpling softly. The faint ticking of her wall clock echoed in the room. Her gaze drifted toward her study table, where the map rested under the pale light of her desk lamp. Something about it seemed to shimmer faintly, as though the golden lines were breathing.
Miralen rose and crossed the room quietly. The floor felt cool under her feet. She pulled out the chair and sat, eyes narrowing as she studied the parchment.
It was unlike any map she had seen— no names, no landmarks. Only thin golden lines pulsing gently, like veins of living light, all branching from a single point at the top. And above that point was a symbol— the Queen from a chessboard.
Her brows furrowed. "A chess piece symbol?" she murmured, tracing it with her fingertip. The golden pulse flickered under her touch.
"The line is passing from the Queen... to a Knight," she whispered, following the light as it snaked down to the right.
"Then to a Bishop... and another Knight, side by side."
She leaned closer.
"What does it even mean?"
Her fingers moved lightly against the paper as she traced the glowing path. From there, the line curved again, connecting to a Rook, then down to a Pawn and a Bishop drawn in the center of the map.
"These two are in the middle... but connected to the same line," she muttered, her voice a mix of confusion and awe. "Something's maybe different about them."
The golden pulse danced across her face as her eyes followed the last few connections. "Then the line passes... to another Pawn, then a Rook... and finally–" her voice lowered, "a Knight... at the very bottom. Just below the... Queen at top."
She narrowed her eyes slightly at the map "Why is there three knights in this map? Doesn't a chessboard have only two knights on either side?" She paused, her voice barely above a whisper "Could one of them be enemy or worse...a traitor to the Queen?"
Her eyes darted over each glowing symbol as she began counting them softly.
"One... two... three... four... five..." Her voice grew faint as realization dawned. "Ten of them."
The pieces seemed to whisper their secrets, their meaning dancing just out of reach.
Then suddenly, a thought struck her. Her eyes widened. "Wait– there were ten statues in the cathedral too..." She froze, her pulse quickening. "Could this map be about them?"
The air around her seemed to shift, almost hum, as though the map itself had heard her realization. The golden veins pulsed brighter, the light rippling across her hands.
Miralen leaned forward, her reflection shining faintly in the golden glow.
"I don't know what this is trying to tell me..." she whispered, "... but I'm going to find out soon...yeah, soon."
And under the moonlight, her eyes gleamed— steady, sharp, calculating.
For the first time, she looked less like a girl trying to solve a mystery... and more like a Queen preparing for her next move.
———
Miralen had fallen asleep on her study table, her head resting on folded arms, soft breaths brushing over the map beneath her. A faint droplet of drool glistened on the parchment's corner where the golden lines still pulsed faintly, alive, as if breathing in silence.
She stirred awake, blinking at the morning light seeping through the curtains. With a tired sigh, she straightened, rubbing her eyes and stretching her arms before trudging to the bathroom.
When she returned, her gaze immediately found the map again. The golden veins were glowing softly, each chess symbol flickering like it carried a heartbeat. Miralen leaned closer, fingertips brushing near the queen's sigil— but before she could study it further, a knock echoed through the room.
"Miss Miralen, please come downstairs. Mr. Evander is calling you," her maid's voice came from the other side of the door.
Miralen froze. "Y-yeah, I'll be there in a few minutes," she managed, forcing calm into her voice.
As the footsteps faded, her heart began to race.
'Why is Dad calling me? Did he see me going behind the portrait? Did he find out about last night?'
She swallowed hard, wiped her palms on her shirt, and walked downstairs.
Valerian Evander sat on the couch, posture composed yet sharp like a man who already knew the answer to every question he was about to ask.
Miralen took a seat opposite him, pretending calm though her pulse quickened.
"What were you doing last night?" Valerian's tone was steady, but there was an edge beneath the calm— the kind that made even silence feel heavy.
Miralen blinked once, then met his eyes. "I was doing my assignment."
"Assignment?" His eyebrow rose slightly. "Which one?"
"Physics," she replied, tone firm, unwavering.
A flicker of amusement— or disbelief — touched his face. "I see... because I heard some noise coming from the hallway. Did you hear that too?"
Miralen tilted her head, feigning confusion. "Noise? No, I didn't hear anything. Maybe you're hearing things, Dad." A tiny smirk tugged at her lips— a bold risk, but she needed to look sure of herself.
Valerian studied her for a moment, his gaze unreadable, then exhaled quietly. "Perhaps. You may go now."
Miralen stood, nodding quickly. "Okay, Dad."
As she turned to leave, his voice came again, quieter this time almost distant.
"Miralen... stay out of the end of hallway."
She paused mid–step, her heartbeat skipping. But when she turned back, Valerian was already looking elsewhere— as if the words had never been spoken.
(The end of chapter 5)