Chapter 12 – Inkblood and Obsession

The sky crouched on the edge of dawn.

Candles guttered in Elizabeth Voss’s attic like tiny conspirators.

Loose curls of black‑dyed hair brushed across her journal as she furiously sketched another profile of Alfred.

Ink pooled in the hollow of each letter.

“The willow crest must catch his eye. (He’ll see the truth in one glance.)”

Dust motes floated through the single cracked window.

Stacks of pilfered scrolls leaned against the slanted roof, threatening to spill centuries of secrets across the floor.

She shivered in the chill air, but excitement burned warmer than any hearth.

Downstairs a kettle clanged.

“Elizabeth! Wash that ridiculous dye before Father’s sermon!” her mother shouted.

“I’m going to market, Mother! (I’m going to destiny.)”

She shoved quills, maps, and half‑eaten toffee into a patched satchel.

The journal slid in last, wrapped in oilcloth like a sacred relic.

Floorboards groaned under her boots as she snuck to the back stair.

Her mother’s footsteps thudded toward the front door.

Elizabeth lifted the latch on the tiny servants’ window and wriggled outside into frosty air.

“I’ll bring home bread!” she called, hoping the promise would muffle suspicion.

“Bring home sanity!” her mother answered.

Elizabeth dropped onto wet grass, landing in a crouch that jarred her knees.

She exhaled white mist.

“Pain is fleeting. (Legends are forever.)”

Far across the academy grounds, Alfred tapped a bamboo practice sword against a straw dummy.

Morning fog curled around the field, blurring stone walls and training targets into gray smudges.

“This drill feels pointless. (Maybe I swing too softly.)”

He struck again, but the dummy merely squeaked on its stake.

Seraphina Blackwood watched from ten paces away, gloved fingers squeezing the hilt of her real blade.

“Such restraint. (Or a test before the storm.)”

She noted every angle of his shoulders, every measured breath, filing details into a mental ledger labeled Possible Signs of Doom.

Luna materialized beside Alfred in a swirl of silver motes.

“Good morning, mighty terror. (Everyone’s still scared stiff.)”

Alfred wiped sweat from his brow.

“I keep sparing the dummies. (Why do stitches matter?)”

Luna rotated mid‑air like a lazy firefly.

“Newsflash! A crow flaps at the gate. (Black feathers, frantic heartbeat.)”

Alfred paused mid‑swing.

“A crow? (An actual bird?)”

“Two legs, not wings. She demands your audience! (Fan club upgrade!)”

Seraphina’s eyes narrowed.

“Nightsade cultists wear black. (This must end quickly.)”

She strode toward the main gate, boots slicing dew.

Alfred rested the bamboo sword on his shoulder and followed at a slower pace.

“Why call me a cult target? (Can’t be that serious.)”

Luna zipped circles around his head.

“They treat your name like thunder. (And I adore the weather.)”

Elizabeth reached the iron bars of Starfall’s outer gate just as first light painted the sky lilac.

Her scarf slipped, revealing ebony locks still glossy with dye.

She gripped the bars.

“I am ready. (Heart, stop shaking.)”

A sleepy guard leaned on a spear, breath smelling of last night’s ale.

“State your business.”

“I must meet Alfred. I carry Nightsade knowledge. (Please don’t laugh.)”

The guard’s pupils shrank.

“N‑Nightsade? We don’t need more curses.”

He turned to summon a superior.

Elizabeth hugged her satchel like a shield.

“Your crest flies upside down. (Great first impression, Liz.)”

Seraphina reached the gate first, sword chinking softly against her thigh.

“Leave now. (Before he sees you.)”

Elizabeth pressed her journal through the bars.

“Just five minutes with him. (I rehearsed this speech all night.)”

Seraphina flicked a glance at the open page.

A willow tree twisted into a crown.

Roots coiled like serpents.

She felt her pulse skip.

“That seal is restricted. (How did she find it?)”

Luna drifted above them, legs crossed.

“Family reunion time! (Break out the fireworks.)”

Seraphina tightened her grip.

“Explain yourself.”

Elizabeth tugged her scarf free, letting dark hair tumble over her shoulders.

“I’m Elizabeth Voss… a distant branch of the line. (Practically siblings!)”

Luna covered her smile with a glowing hand.

“Branch? More like leaf in high winds. (She’ll blow away at first rumor.)”

Alfred arrived, bamboo sword under one arm.

“Who’s visiting? (I hope not another debt collector.)”

He spotted Elizabeth’s frantic expression.

Her violet eyes shone like wet ink.

“I traveled across three provinces. (Don’t faint now.)”

Alfred rubbed the back of his neck.

“You know me? (We’ve never met.)”

Elizabeth pushed a second drawing forward—Alfred beneath a floating castle, cape swirling, eyes blazing.

“I’ve recorded your deeds. (Every rumor, every whisper, every bakery receipt.)”

Seraphina leaned closer.

“This sketch shows him controlling dragons. (He only controls laundry mishaps.)”

Alfred squinted at the artwork.

“My jaw isn’t that square. (Cool cape, though.)”

Luna hovered between them.

“Her artistic license has no speed limit. (Crash incoming!)”

Elizabeth swallowed hard.

“I dyed my hair to match Nightsade heritage. (Mom will kill me.)”

Alfred blinked twice.

“My family bakes honey buns. (Heritage of cinnamon, maybe.)”

Seraphina’s heartbeat drummed in her ears.

“If she’s genuine, she knows passwords.”

She spoke aloud.

“Recite the Shadow Oath.”

Elizabeth straightened.

“Through willow shade and crimson dawn, the last root binds the future. (Please be correct!)”

Seraphina’s sword dipped.

“That’s classified. (She passed step one.)”

Luna floated upside down, hair brushing invisible clouds.

“Classified? I leaked it to a goat last week. (Goats keep secrets.)”

Alfred tapped the bamboo sword on the grass.

“Why do secret oaths involve trees? (And blood colors?)”

Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed.

“Will you accept me?”

Alfred shrugged gently.

“I accept friendly conversation. (Maybe she needs directions.)”

A breeze carried the scent of clover through the gate courtyard.

Seraphina sheathed her sword with a sigh.

“Five minutes. (But I’ll time it.)”

Elizabeth exhaled relief so hard her knees buckled.

Luna drifted toward her ear.

“He adores gifts. (Try breathing again first.)”

Elizabeth fumbled with her satchel, producing a small velvet pouch.

“I brought moon‑capped ink. (Rare, expensive, totally real.)”

Alfred peeked inside.

Blue liquid shimmered like midnight tides.

“Pretty.” (Do I drink it?)

Luna clapped tiny hands.

“Now he can sign autographs in starlight. (Autographs of terror, yes!)”

Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled.

“I also mapped ancient ruins that respond to Nightsade blood.”

Seraphina’s stomach twisted.

“Respond? (Explode, you mean?)”

Alfred waved dismissively.

“I have no special blood. (Just platelets.)”

Elizabeth’s voice trembled.

“You hide your greatness to protect us. (Noble and tragic.)”

Alfred chuckled awkwardly.

“I hide nothing. (Except how laundry machines work.)”

Luna spun slow circles around Elizabeth’s head.

“Careful, he also hides his appetite. (One loaf per minute.)”

Elizabeth scribbled a note in her journal.

Moderate bread consumption = coded distress signal.

Seraphina rubbed her temples.

“This is spiraling. (I need tea.)”

A trainee messenger dashed up, panting.

“Instructor! The dean requests your report!”

Seraphina nodded.

“Stay here. (No summoning demons while I’m gone.)”

She jogged toward the main hall, armor jingling.

Alfred and Elizabeth stood awkwardly by the gate.

Luna perched on the bamboo sword like a sparkly parrot.

Alfred cleared his throat.

“So… you study crests? (Please don’t ask math.)”

Elizabeth hugged her journal to her chest.

“Since childhood. (Obsessed, really.)”

She flipped to a page titled Potential Weaknesses of Dragon Steel.

Alfred leaned closer.

“This equation is upside down. (Numbers feel dizzy.)”

Elizabeth beamed.

“Upside‑down script is Nightsade tradition. (Ancestors loved puzzles.)”

Luna whispered to Alfred.

“They also loved confusing accountants. (No one filed taxes.)”

Alfred laughed, shaking his head.

“I can relate. (Paperwork here is nightmare fuel.)”

Elizabeth gasped softly.

“Your laugh… it’s exactly how the ballads described.”

Alfred blinked.

“Ballads?” (Did someone write a song about me?)

Luna traced circles in the air, leaving faint trails of light.

“I may have submitted lyrics under Anonymous Moonbeam. (Royalty checks pending.)”

Elizabeth’s gaze turned solemn.

“The old stories say the last Nightsade will rebuild the kingdom or burn it.”

Alfred crossed his arms.

“I’d rather rebuild bakeries. (Cinnamon first.)”

Elizabeth scribbled again.

Prefers pastries → symbol of merciful rule.

Seraphina returned, eyes scanning the trio.

“Time’s up.”

Elizabeth bit her lip.

“One last question!”

Alfred nodded.

“Sure.” (Hope it’s easy.)

Elizabeth’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“Does the scar on your chest still ache before storms?”

Alfred’s brows knitted.

“Scar?” (I have a mosquito bite.)

Luna burst into wild giggles.

“He heals too fast for pain. (Supernatural metabolism!)”

Elizabeth clasped her hands.

“Of course. (Silly me.)”

Seraphina guided her back toward the gate.

“Return home. (And maybe dye remover.)”

Elizabeth walked backward, eyes never leaving Alfred.

“I’ll find more clues! (Our fates are linked.)”

Alfred waved politely.

“Safe travels. (Take snacks.)”

The gate slammed shut behind her.

Seraphina exhaled through clenched teeth.

“She knows secrets no commoner should.”

Luna flicked starlight onto Alfred’s sleeve.

“Secrets travel faster than dragons. (But misunderstanding travels light‑speed.)”

Alfred watched Elizabeth disappear down the hill.

“Nice girl. (Probably needs sleep.)”

Seraphina massaged her temples.

“I foresee migraines. (And headlines.)”

Luna glowed brighter.

“I foresee chapter thirteen. (And extra popcorn.)”