Chapter 146: Whispers of the Future
The late afternoon sun filtered through the antique glass windows of Manoir des Ombres, casting long amber shadows across the marble floor. Dust motes floated in the still air like fragments of memory, suspended between then and now. Every sound — footsteps in the hallway, the turn of a page, the flutter of bird wings outside — felt reverent, too sacred to interrupt the hush that blanketed the estate.
Eva sat alone in the music room, her fingers grazing the keys of the grand piano. It was the same one her Maman once played, long ago, when the world had felt warmer, before secrets tightened like nooses around every conversation. The ivory was cool beneath her touch, the lacquered surface mirroring a girl caught between becoming and pretending.
She was composing again. This time, not for an audience or a lesson — not even for herself. This was for Seraphina.
The piece had no title yet, but she hummed beneath her breath, L•••• phrases folded into the melody like hidden prayers. "Dulcis lumen animae meae…" Sweet light of my soul. The notes ached with longing, slow and reverent, each a tether to something distant but unbreakable. She would finish it tonight. She had to — before everything changed again.
Their call was scheduled. It always was now. Seven o'clock sharp, F••••• time. Eleven in N•••••. By then, Seraphina would be in bed, her hair damp from a bath, wearing one of those soft cotton nightwear that Eva found absurdly adorable. When the screen flickered to life, Seraphina's face appeared, framed in lamplight and a halo of pale curls.
"I've missed you, little moonbeam," Seraphina murmured, eyes gentle. "It feels like you're slipping through my fingers."
Eva blushed immediately. "I'm still here. I — I haven't gone anywhere."
"You have." Seraphina tilted her head, the expression behind her eyes sharper than her tone. "You're going somewhere else. Somewhere I can't follow. And I don't like it."
There was no accusation. Just quiet grief.
Eva looked down. She didn't want to lie. But the truth, thick and metallic, lodged in her throat. So she reached for the one thing she could offer.
"I composed something for you," she said. "It's in L••••, but… I can sing it for you, if you promise not to tease."
Seraphina's face softened. "I solemnly swear on my hair ribbons and candy stash."
Eva smiled faintly. Her shoulders relaxed.
She began to sing.
"Promittas Me Audituram Esse"
(Promise Me You'll Still Hear Me)
Dulcis lumen animae meae,
Per noctem audi vocem meam,
Etsi venti vocem tollant,
Spes manet in corde tuam.
(Sweet light of my soul,
Hear my voice through the night,
Though winds may carry it far away,
Hope still lives in your heart's quiet light.)
Si umbra inter nos crescat,
Et longinqua fiat via,
Noli oblivisci vota,
Quae diximus sub luna pia.
(If shadows should rise between us,
And distance grows with every mile,
Don't forget the vows we whispered,
Beneath the soft and holy moon's smile.)
Promittas me audituram esse,
Etiam in silentio profundo,
Amor meus manebit tecum,
In omni corde secundo.
(Promise me you'll still hear me,
Even in silence deep and wide,
My love will always walk beside you,
In every heartbeat where I hide.)
When Eva finished, the silence between them shimmered.
"I think you're going to break me one day," Seraphina whispered.
"I hope not," Eva murmured. "I just want to stay inside your heart. Even if… I have to go far away."
Later that night, Eva couldn't sleep. Under the guise of insomnia, she padded barefoot through the quiet halls, tablet tucked beneath her arm. She knew the creaking floorboards well now — how to avoid them, how to move like a whisper.
Behind a bookshelf in the library, she pressed her thumb to the hidden biometric scanner. The red light blinked, then green. The door sighed open.
The Hidden Room.
Cool and cavernous, it was a world apart from the estate's warmth. Stone walls and embedded steel panels framed the space. Dim lights glowed overhead, casting her reflection in the ring of tall, silvered mirrors. One wall displayed weapons behind glass — knives, bows, blunt instruments, all polished and labeled. The floor had two sparring mats, one of which still bore a faint bloodstain. Along one wall: medical equipment. Another: high - tech simulations. Puzzle screens. Memory grids. Strategy tables.
There were books in languages Eva wasn't supposed to know — R••••••, F••••, L••••, coded ciphers. Tactile maps of fictional embassies. A reinforced locker with an emergency go - bag and fake IDs. One drawer contained items labeled "Crisis Protocol."
This was the legacy her Papa built for her. Not a childhood. Not dreams. But blueprints of survival.
She opened the tablet again.
Seraphina answered almost instantly, her hair tousled and wild from sleep, face half-buried in her pillow.
"You look like you're about to confess a murder," Seraphina teased.
"I want to show you something," Eva said, her voice barely steady.
She flipped the camera.
Seraphina watched in stunned silence as the room unfolded on screen — weapon cases, tactical consoles, walls lined with warnings and muscle memory.
"Eva…" Her voice caught. "What is this?"
"Where I train," Eva said. "Where Papa sends the instructors. Where I learn things I'm not supposed to talk about."
There was a pause. Seraphina didn't ask the questions rising in her chest. She only said, "That's why you're always tired. Why your hands sometimes shake when you try to hold your spoon during breakfast."
Eva's throat burned. "I didn't want you to see me like this."
"I'm glad I did."
"Why?"
"Because now I know what I'm fighting for," Seraphina said simply. "To be strong enough to protect you, too. Not just wait for you to come back every time."
Eva's eyes filled. "I don't deserve you."
"You do. You always will."
The following morning, Reginald returned.
No warning. No warmth. Just the sharp click of his boots on stone and that chill he brought with him, like winter in a man's suit.
Eva ran to him, arms lifted. Instinctive. Hopeful.
He stopped her with a raised hand.
"I don't have time for theatrics. Study room. Now."
His words were razors. She lowered her arms. Nodded. Followed.
Inside the study, the windows were closed, the light dim. He flipped through her reports without sitting down.
"You've improved," he said curtly. "But it's not enough. Do you think excellence is a game?"
"No, Papa."
"You're less disappointing than before. Still weak. Still soft. Your aunt Vivienne spoils you. Your Maman thinks I'm cruel."
His eyes glinted, wolfish. "They're fools."
"I'll do better," Eva said.
"You'll be better. I'm assigning you additional material — strategy, diplomacy, memory indexing. You will not slack off just because I'm leaving again. You're not a child anymore. Remember who you are — what we're building. Don't make me regret trusting you."
"I won't, Papa," she whispered. "I'll never disappoint you. Never be a burden."
"Good. Keep what we do between us. Do not speak of this to Vivienne or Evelyn. Understood?"
"Yes, Papa. I swear."
Hours later, Reginald was gone again. No goodbye. No tenderness. Just his echo in the marble.
Eva crept to Vivienne's room and curled onto the edge of her bed like she had when she was five.
Vivienne stroked her hair, soft and slow. "You did well today."
"I don't feel like I did."
"You're carrying too much."
Eva pressed her face into her mere's lap. "Mère… I really wish you were my real other mother."
Vivienne said nothing. She leaned down and kissed her forehead, then her cheek, then her lips, slow and reverent. Her arms encircled her, fierce and aching.
"I am your mother, little dove," she whispered, but only in her heart. I always have been.
That evening, Eva climbed out onto the balcony with her tablet again.
Seraphina answered, yawning dramatically. "Couldn't wait until morning?"
"I had to hear your voice."
"Oh?" Seraphina leaned in. "Do I really have that kind of effect?"
Eva looked away, cheeks aflame.
"You're blushing," Seraphina teased. "Again. My little moonbeam. My little darling."
"I'm not—"
"You're mine. And I'm yours. That's all that matters."
Eva's ears turned scarlet.
"I love it," Seraphina whispered, suddenly tender. "The way I affect you. I love you."
Eva looked into the screen, her soul aching with joy. "I love you, too."
Under the virtual starlight of a shared sky, they made a pact.
Letters. Symbols. Hidden promises inside melodies. Journal pages left blank on purpose, meant for each other's ink. No matter what came — where Eva went, what she became — she would remain tethered to Seraphina.
Seraphina, who saw all of her.
Eva, who could still say, I will always come back to you.