"We have arrived."
A falcon swept across the sky above the knights' heads, releasing a sharp cry.
"Over there—the estate of the Marquis of Guinness."
It was late afternoon when Lennox Carlisle finally reached the residence. Juliet, still sleeping, remained under the protection of Elliot and a small contingent of knights. The journey had passed without incident.
*Rustle.*
They arrived without difficulty and, entering the courtyard, dismounted one by one.
The sprawling estate of the Marquis of Guinness—once the domain of one of the South's most influential men—now looked utterly abandoned. Only a handful of guards dispatched from the palace kept lazy watch at the entrance.
"It's the Duke of Carlisle... what is he doing here?"
The guards exchanged bewildered glances. Without waiting for their questions, Lennox spoke.
"We're going in."
He strode past them without explanation. The guards hesitated but made no move to stop him, limiting themselves to watching his retreating back.
"Your Grace..."
"What?"
"About Lady Juliet... leaving her behind like that—isn't it too much?"
Sir Milan, following close behind, spoke with careful hesitation.
"She'll probably be angry," Lennox replied evenly.
"Oh yes. She will *definitely* be angry," the knight said with a knowing grin.
*But the Duke had his reasons.*
*Juliet might have felt obligated to confront the ghosts of her past on her own. But for Lennox, it was different. He didn't consider her weak—he considered himself weak. He simply couldn't bear the thought of seeing Juliet in this place.*
"Did she truly say the item was kept here?"
"She did. Though I wonder what exactly she meant..."
Milan clicked his tongue thoughtfully as the knights surveyed the empty building, watching the Duke's reactions closely.
As warned, the mansion was practically deserted.
The remaining servants had grabbed whatever valuables they could carry and fled. A palpable sense of abandonment hung in the stale air.
"Perhaps Lady Juliet was mistaken?"
Lennox asked no unnecessary questions. He knew this was all connected to her past.
*The Marquis of Guinness's estate is in the South. What you seek is there.*
The Duke peered into the empty corridor ahead.
The knights saw nothing.
But his eyes perceived something else entirely.
A massive black panther materialized from the shadows, grinning. She turned, glanced over her shoulder, and padded forward—clearly inviting him to follow.
"There."
The knights, confused, fell into step behind him.
After several turns, the panther halted before a half-open door.
One of the knights peered inside—and immediately recoiled.
"Gods..."
"What a wretched place."
The room beyond was papered in deep scarlet, its walls lined with instruments whose purposes were better left unexamined. It looked less like a chamber and more like a torture pit.
The panther had already shown the Duke precisely this room. In a vision.
As Lennox crossed the threshold, the image assaulted him unbidden: an emaciated woman, head bowed, as though she had surrendered entirely.
**(You were wrong.)**
A whispering, mocking voice coiled through his mind.
**(You will see her suffer for the rest of your life.)**
Gritting his teeth, Lennox ignored the demon's taunts.
"Find the library."
"Your Grace?"
Not far from the red room, he discovered the library Juliet had described. Inside stood a towering bookcase.
It didn't take long to locate the correct volume—a book bound in green leather. The very *switch* she had mentioned.
*There is a book with a green binding in the Marquis's library.*
***Click.***
When he pressed the spine, a hidden mechanism engaged.
***Creak. Creak. Creak.***
A dull thud—and a secret passage yawned open before them.
"Gods above..."
The knights entered with torches raised, then froze.
A treasury spread before them.
The Marquis of Guinness's collection was staggering.
They had just witnessed darkness and horror—and now found themselves in a hall overflowing with gold and luxury. The contrast was jarring, almost obscene.
"Your Grace! We found it!"
Just a few steps from the entrance, among countless treasures, one object stood apart.
A tiara.
Elegant. Crafted from gleaming gold. Smaller than expected—but impossible to look away from.
"So this is it... the lost heirloom of the House of Carlisle!"
Milan and Hadin exchanged looks of quiet awe. Though they had heard of this artifact for years, neither had ever seen it in person.
Both were deeply moved. The Duke of Carlisle had been searching for this tiara for over a decade.
"Congratulations, Your Grace."
"Welcome home, relic!"
Even those knights who didn't know the full history bowed their heads in respect.
But the Duke himself, holding the delicate tiara in his hand, regarded it with cold detachment. His gaze was ice.
He raised his head.
**(So you've retrieved it. Congratulations.)**
Amid the general celebration, a black panther padded gracefully into the hall.
**(Excellent. You deserve praise. But... you don't imagine this is where it ends, do you?)**
Only he could hear her voice—a hoarse whisper threading directly through his mind.
**(You've held her in your arms before, haven't you? And how did that end? Your girl... she died, didn't she?)**
The words struck like frozen daggers.
Never before had Lennox heard such insolence from the panther. His eyes flashed crimson, and he fixed the beast with a murderous glare.
**(Will you be able to save her this time? Will you be able to stop fate?)**
The panther's grin only widened.
The tiara—once adorning the head of the mistress of House Carlisle—was impeccable. Filigree craftsmanship. Exquisite elegance.
But the Duke's gaze upon it remained cold.
The joy everyone expected was absent. No relief. No sense of victory.
"Your Grace... there is something worth mentioning," Milan said hesitantly, still studying the tiara.
"Actually, Miss Juliet showed interest in this heirloom."
He spoke almost casually, as though recalling something trivial.
"I don't know how she learned of it, but she knew about a couple named Fran."
*Fran.*
That was the name of the servants who had stolen the diadem from the Carlisle household nearly twenty years ago and vanished. The name had long since faded into obscurity.
"I'm not certain how reliable her information is. There may have been some confusion."
Milan's tone remained relaxed, almost conversational.
"Rumor has it the Frans didn't escape alone. They had a... daughter with them."
"Milan." The Duke's voice dropped to something hollow.
"Yes, Your Grace?"
"What *exactly* did Juliet say?"
"About the Fran couple?"
"No. Something else."
"Ah... yes." Milan paused. "She asked... if they had a daughter."
The Duke turned sharply.
"Hadin."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Where is Juliet now?"
"I believe... already in the capital. She was scheduled to arrive today, or early this morning."
*Juliet's group had departed ahead of them. If everything had gone according to plan, they should be resting in the capital by now.*
"If we leave immediately, when will we arrive?"
"If we ride hard... the day after tomorrow—Your Grace?!"
Hadin, usually balanced and composed, couldn't contain his surprise.
The Duke of Carlisle, without a word, hurled the tiara in his direction.
"Your Grace?!"
The knight caught it reflexively, staring at the precious heirloom in shock.
*This was no way to treat a relic...*
"Do you intend to... set out immediately?"
"Without delay," the Duke said curtly, already striding toward the exit.
The remaining knights exchanged bewildered glances. The tiara in Hadin's hands shimmered with a soft, almost mystical light.
And then it happened.
***BOOM.***
"What was that sound?"
Not only the knights inside, but the guards outside heard the strange, resonant hum.
Before anyone could react, there was a dull, thunderous impact.
The earth *trembled*.
"Your Grace!"
The floor began to cave in beneath their feet.
It was as though the building itself—keeper of ancient secrets—had awakened.
---