Chapter 12: Delphine

I didn’t sleep after the greenhouse.

Not because of fear. I should’ve been afraid, maybe. The spring’s hunger, the way the castle hummed under my skin, the way Theron looked at me like I was something sharp and dangerous wrapped in moonlight—none of that made sleep possible.

But more than that, I didn’t want to miss anything.

I could still feel the spring’s magic curled in my bones. Whatever was beneath this castle—it knew me now. And I wasn’t sure if that was power or a trap.

Probably both.

By sunrise, I’d moved my entire spell setup from the East Wing sitting room into the small annex Mira had quietly opened for me earlier in the week. She’d called it “the crafting room,” but I was pretty sure it used to be a chapel. Or a crypt.

Hard to tell in this place.

The walls still whispered, though. Faintly. Like they were trying to remember the shape of a prayer.

I placed the ward ledger on the central stone table, the pages now annotated with my own hurried notes, diagrams, and suspicions. Beside it, I spread out a new parchment—a tracing of the leyline network from last night’s pulse reading. The lines had changed again.

The central anchor—the one beneath the West Tower—was glowing brighter now. Not brighter in magic. Brighter in intent. Like it wanted me to know it was watching.

Or waiting.

I circled the anchor sigil in ink. “You’ve got a crush on me,” I muttered aloud to the castle. “That’s cute. I don’t date buildings.”

The walls didn’t answer.

But the candle flames did flare—just slightly.

“Not funny,” I said, pointing at the nearest sconce.

A soft knock pulled my attention back to the door. Mira peeked her head in, a tray balanced in her hands. Tea. Of course.

“You’re working early,” she said, stepping inside carefully.

“Midnight strolls through cursed gardens will do that to you,” I replied, clearing space for her on the side table.

She set the tray down and gave me a cautious look. “Valesa said you met with Lord Valemont again.”

“Briefly.”

Mira hesitated. “And?”

“And we had an unsettlingly polite conversation about magic, death, and the castle trying to eat us both.” I paused. “Oh. And he said I’m dangerous. Which was weirdly flattering.”

Mira blinked. “Did you argue?”

“Of course,” I said, sipping the tea. “That’s basically foreplay at this point.”

She made a small choking sound that might’ve been a laugh. “You’re not afraid of him?”

I paused. “I’m not sure ‘afraid’ is the right word. He’s not what I expected. He’s... more. Which is deeply inconvenient.”

“More dangerous?” Mira asked, voice quiet now.

“More honest,” I said slowly. “Or trying to be. I think he’s carrying something heavy, and he hasn’t figured out if I’m supposed to help lift it or be crushed beneath it.”

Mira looked down at the floor. “The last time he let someone close... it didn’t end well.”

“I figured,” I murmured. “But I’m not her. And if he can’t see that, this castle’s going to kill us both.”

Mira nodded once, then slipped out without another word, leaving me alone again with flickering glyphs and pulsing walls.

I turned back to the map and pulled a fresh thread of silver into the anchor point.

This time, I didn’t send magic outward.

This time, I called it in.

“Come on,” I whispered, voice low. “Show me what you want. What you’re protecting. Or hiding. Or feeding.”

The silver thread trembled—and then pulsed.

Not outward.

Upward.

The pulse came from beneath the spring, yes—but it wasn’t pushing through the castle’s bones. It was climbing toward the surface. Fast.

The parchment trembled. The ink blurred.

And for one flickering second, I felt it.

Not the castle.

The thing beneath the castle.

Alive.

Awake.

And absolutely delighted.

I gasped and tore my fingers away from the circle, the connection snapping so hard it left sparks skittering across the stone.

“What the hell,” I breathed, staring at the map.

It had changed.

Not just shifted, not just updated.

A new anchor had appeared.

A hidden one.

Right beneath my feet.

The castle wasn’t passively welcoming me anymore.

It was rearranging itself to meet me.

---

I spent the rest of the afternoon rebuilding the anchor map, layering magical scans with notes from the old ledger. Glyphs moved when I wasn’t looking. Shadows curved differently. The annex door refused to open twice in the same direction.

Whatever was happening—it was accelerating.

And it was centered on me.

By the time Mira returned with supper, I was halfway through sketching a containment ring designed to track psychic resonance through leyline deviations.

“You look tired,” she said gently.

“I’m great,” I replied. “Definitely not being haunted by architecture.”

She blinked. “That’s… good?”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “I don’t know what this castle wants, Mira. I really don’t. But I think it’s learning. And I think it’s remembering.”

She hesitated. Then: “So is he.”

I looked at her.

“Theron,” she said softly. “You’re not the only one being changed.”

That stopped me cold.

Because she was right.

And I didn’t know if that scared me more—or thrilled me.

Because if Theron Valemont was starting to feel again—

This place would never survive it.

And neither would I.