CHAPTER 40: A NOTE BEYOND TIME

The morning light in Haselburg came thin and colorless, combed through by mist that pressed pale against the windowpanes. The silence in the ransacked room stretched heavy, as if even the walls strained to listen.

A soft sound stirred—the faint pad of paws. Anneliese’s head snapped toward it, her heart leaping before she recognized the sleek, dark figure slipping into the room.

"Oscar..." she whispered.

The cat’s eyes gleamed gold in the fractured light, unnervingly intelligent. He leapt onto the broken table with a grace that belonged more to a predator than a pet. His gaze fixed on Vincenzo, unblinking.

"What happened here?" Vincenzo’s voice was low, edged with command.

Oscar did not move, but his answer slid cold into his master’s mind: "I heard whispers and followed them into the restricted forest. No one was there, but the ground stank of dark magic, clinging like rot. When I returned, shadows were already slipping from here—vanishing before I could catch them."

Vincenzo’s jaw tightened, his gaze narrowing as though he could already see the scene Oscar described. "Where, in the restricted forest?"

Oscar’s tail flicked once before he replied: "In the bushiest part—south of the Waspa River."

Anneliese’s eyes darted between the two—cat and master—her brow knitting. The cat hadn’t spoken aloud, yet something had passed between them.

She hesitated before asking Vincenzo, "How... how are you able to talk to him?"

Vincenzo’s gaze didn’t leave Oscar. "Because of the master–slave bond. He is bound to me, so I can read and hear his thoughts."

Anneliese blinked, her lips parting. "Then why... why did Oscar send a message through your crow? If you can speak mind to mind..."

This time, his eyes flicked to hers. "It only works across short distances. Even a bond has its limits."

Vincenzo’s gaze swept the ruined room, his voice low and measured. "But the real question is, why is only this room turned upside down?"

His expression darkened, certainty cutting through the calm. "Our guess was right. With your father under their chains, his secrets lost to them... they know. They know you are the anchor."

Anneliese’s eyes drifted over the scattered papers and overturned books. A sharp thought stirred. "I... I think we should check his study," she murmured, almost to herself. Her gaze met Vincenzo’s. "Maybe we will find something... a hint, anything that could tell us more."

Vincenzo tilted his head, curiosity flickering behind his calm. "Why the study, then? Not his bedroom?"

Anneliese shook her head slowly. "Father was careful about it. If he was hiding something and keeping secrets, even Mother wouldn’t have known. I doubt he would have kept anything in his own room."

A faint, approving curve touched Vincenzo’s lips, hidden beneath the usual calm. "Very well," he said. "Lead the way."

They moved quickly to her father’s small study—a cramped, book-filled room tucked away at the end of the narrow corridor. The door creaked slightly as Vincenzo pushed it open, revealing shelves stacked with tomes, scrolls, and scattered papers, some yellowed with age, others fresh and crisp.

Anneliese stepped inside, her eyes scanning every corner. "He... he kept so many things here," she murmured, her fingers brushing over a row of leather-bound books. "Maybe... maybe we can find something... a note, a journal... anything that could help."

She moved slowly between the shelves, her fingers trailing along the spines of books, feeling the weight of knowledge and secrets they held. Vincenzo stood just behind her, eyes scanning every inch of the room, muscles tense, ready for any sign of danger.

"There has to be something," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "Something important."

Anneliese moved through the study, her eyes scanning the shelves, the scattered papers, the drawers—every inch she could reach. Twice she searched, twice she came up empty-handed. Nothing seemed out of place. Nothing spoke of the secrets she hoped to uncover.

Frustration prickled at her, and she leaned slightly over the table, hands pressed to her face. Then... a flicker of memory surfaced, buried beneath the memories of years.

Her father placed a folded paper—a parchment he had been working on for weeks—into a box that resembled a book if one didn’t look attentively.

Little Anneliese peeked curiously, trying to see inside the book-box. Too small to see inside, she frowned and asked, "What is this, Pappa?"

Her father looked down at her, his eyes filled with a sadness and a weight she couldn’t understand. "There is time until you know about it, my dear," he said gently.

The memory lingered in her mind as she slowly removed her hands from her face and glanced at Vincenzo, then up toward the higher shelf.

He understood without her saying a word. They moved toward the shelf, and this time she scanned the tomes carefully, searching for a particular one. Then it caught her eye—so ordinary, so similar to the other books on the shelf.

Vincenzo followed her gaze. With a swift pull, he took it out.

Taking the box in her hands, she opened it. Inside lay a single neatly folded parchment. As she unfolded it, a smaller paper slipped out. She lifted the smaller note before placing the box and parchment on the table.

It was a handwritten note—she recognized the handwriting instantly.

"My dear Ann,

If you have found this note, it means I am not there with you. I know you feel alone, with so many questions and uncertainties in life. Remember, my little girl, I have loved you dearly and tried to protect you for as long as I could. I cannot tell you much, but I will do all I can to help you. My hands are bound by the wheel of time; I cannot reveal anything before the right moment. I am leaving a map for you in this box to guide you. By now, you must have found someone—stay with him, do not leave his side. You will be safe."

Anneliese’s fingers trembled slightly as she traced the familiar loops of her father’s handwriting. Her eyes glistened, each word seeming to echo in the quiet study, carrying both love and the weight of his absence.

Vincenzo’s dark eyes softened as he stepped closer. He gently took the note from her hands and slipped it into his coat. Slowly, he brushed away the single tear that had escaped her resistance. And then, ever so slowly, she looked up at him—raw, unguarded, like she never had before. It stirred something deep within him, something he couldn’t name.

Lowering her gaze, she picked up the parchment. She frowned before looking at him again. "It is blank!"

Vincenzo’s dark eyes stayed fixed on old parchment. "No. It is not."

As her eyes returned to the parchment, the paper seemed to shimmer faintly, as if catching some inner light. Slowly, strange symbols and words began to appear, curling like smoke across the surface. Seals glowed softly, illustrations etched themselves along the edges, and intricate patterns formed in a delicate, almost living rhythm. The layout seemed to pulse, guiding her gaze from one mark to another, as though the parchment itself were speaking, revealing a map and secrets long hidden.

Anneliese’s breath caught. The magic within her thrummed, alive and ancient, and for the first time, she felt her father’s guidance reach her across the years.