Vol 1 Chapter 3: Moonlight Princess

"What if the body you inhabit… is the legacy of something you wish to bury?"

Waking as Moonlight Princess

POV: Sofie Stronghold

Midnight.
A time when the world seems to stop breathing.
A time when lies lose their masks, and silence… becomes a silent witness to who you truly are.
I open my eyes.
The ceiling greets me with a carved moonflower. Beautiful. Cold. As if purity is never truly pure.
The scent of dried roses and eucalyptus envelops me. Warm. Calm.
Fake.

"Big Sis?"

The voice is soft, as if afraid to break.

"Are you okay, Sis?"

One voice.
One name.
One wound that continues to grow silently.
I turn my head.
A pale blue-haired boy sits on the edge of my bed, staring at me with eyes as clear as a sky untouched by war.
I can barely tell… is it hope, or illusion?

"…Mikael?"

His name comes out like a long-held breath.
I blinked slowly, trying to piece together the pieces of reality that shifted every time I woke.

“You slept so long today. Usually you’re up at dusk…”

He held my hand.
His hand was warm. Mine… cold, like a body that wasn’t mine.

“Do you know what time it is?”
“Midnight?”

I smiled faintly. Sophie’s smile.
Not my smile.
I rose.
My movements were slow, wrapped in cashmere and silent.
The rich fabrics wrapped around me, like a soft prison, but gave me no room to be real.

“I’m fine, Mikael.”

Though I wasn’t sure I knew what ‘fine’ felt like.
I walked slowly to the mirror.
The figure staring back at me wasn’t Scarlett.

Not a warrior.
Not a killer.
Not the truth.
It was… Sophie.
A girl born of an unknown will.

Her face was beautiful.
Fragile.
Pale like the moon that only shines, never touches.

Even my movements no longer belong to my own body.
Every step feels like borrowing the footprints of someone I've buried in my sleep.
This body isn't a gift.
It's a warning.

"One body sheds the blood of tyrants."
"One body... inherits their blood."

Two bodies.
One soul.
One secret that must never be revealed.

"Sis?"

Mikael was still staring at me.
His eyes were honest.
But sometimes even honesty can be poisonous, if stored in the wrong cup.

"Sorry," I said, looking away. "I'm just... tired."

A fatigue that sleep can't cure.
Tired of pretending this world isn't rotting from within.

"Hungry, Sis? I've asked the maid to prepare a warm meal."

I turned my head.
My lips moved, but hunger didn't.

"Thank you... later."

This body was indeed different.
Even hunger couldn't cross from Scarlett to Sophie.
But disappointment? Love? Betrayal?
They crossed bodies. Across time.

“I’ll help you walk.”

He offered his hand.
Reflex.
Affection.
I paused for a moment…
Then gently dismissed the offer.

“I can still walk, Mikael.”

Let it be slow.
Let it stumble.
But it was my step.
Sophie’s step.
Steps toward a world I could no longer call home.

We walked down the palace hallway.
Behind me, I heard her voice.
Quiet. Barely audible.

“Big Sis… why?”

I didn’t turn around.
Because if I did…
I was afraid of seeing something I wasn’t prepared to destroy.

“You don’t know…”
“That tonight, the girl you call Big Sis…”
“…may be the reason the throne you inherited will crumble.”

But it’s not because I hate you, Mikael.
No.
Quite the opposite.

“If I have to bring down the world, you will inherit—”
“—It’s not because I want to erase you…”
“…but because I want to save everything you couldn’t protect.”

—

Dinner with the Tyrant-to-Be

The palace dining room…
No matter how beautiful, it always feels cold when there's no love on the table.
Crystal chandeliers hang like blooming icicles from the ceiling, casting soft shadows across the phoenix-carved ebony furniture.
The long, stretched table seems never to want to bring anyone close, only to politely separate them.

I sit at one end.
Mikael sits at the other end.
Between us: plates of royal china, beef with aged wine sauce, fresh fruit, and… a silence sharper than a dinner knife.

“Elsa,” I say softly. “Make me some warm orange juice.”

Elsa curtsies, graceful as a loyal shadow.

“Right away, Princess.”

She knows I haven't touched the wine.
She knows Sophie's habits..
But even she… doesn't know everything.
And that's enough.

When Elsa leaves, only the two of us remain.
Brother and sister.
Shadow and light.
Inheritance and rebellion stare at each other across the table.

I slice the meat slowly.
Soft, savoury, warm.
But it couldn't mask the chill that grew from the base of my tongue.
The bitterness… too old to be anger.
Too deep to be sadness.

“Aren't you eating?” I asked, breaking the silence.

Mikael smiled, gently but deeply.

“I already ate, Sis. But… is the food good?”

I nodded slowly.

“Try it later. You might like it.”

“Maybe,” he said, staring at my plate, not my eyes.
Silence returned.
But not a peaceful silence.
Silence is like the clouds that hang before the first rain.

“Sis…” he said finally.
“Today… I slept too long.
It was already midnight when I woke up.”

My hands stopped.
I gripped the fork and knife tightly, then slowly put them down.

“Sorry, Mikael. Your older sister is indeed… troublesome.”

I tried to smile.
A smile that knew full well that wounds don't always bleed.

“That's not what I meant.”

His face was worried.
But not old enough to know that worry is sometimes another form of control.

“But… your body. You shouldn’t push yourself like this.”

“Mikael, I already know my limits.”

I replied softly.
My voice was calm, but something cracked inside me.

“Big Sis, about your research…
Do you still want to continue?”

“Of course.” I looked straight at him.

“My research is almost complete.”

“Finished? When, Big Sis?”

“As soon as possible.”

“I just… want to do something.
No matter how small.”

“But… you don’t have to be alone, right?”

That sentence made me turn around.
And look at him… not as a younger sibling, but as a future tyrant.

“You think I’m incapable?”

“That’s not it…”

“You think I’m too weak to finish what I started?”

“That’s not what I meant, Big Sis. I just—”

“Why, Mikael?”

Sophie’s voice was now starting to take on Scarlett’s breath.

“Because I’m a girl?
Because I’m sickly?
Because I’m not what the palace expects?”

“That’s not it, Sis!”

He exclaimed, rising from his chair, finally losing the control he’d been maintaining since the beginning.

“Do you know what happened today?
You slept all day!
You didn’t eat, you didn’t move!
Your body… isn’t that strong!
And you’re a princess—
Why can’t you stop worrying us?!”

His voice cracked.
But not out of hate.
Rather, it was out of love that they didn’t know how to touch without hurting.

I fell silent.
My grip on the table tightened.

Mikael, why are you controlling my affairs?
You’re just a potential tyrant.
Stop acting so caring.

I wanted to scream my anger.
But before I could let it out…

“Sorry, Princess.”

Elsa arrived, carrying a cup of warm orange juice on a silver tray.
It was as if the universe knew: I shouldn’t explode tonight.
I sighed.
I looked down at Mikael, who was now looking down, like a child who had just realised that his tears could hurt.

“My body is indeed weak, Mikael…”

I sipped the juice slowly, its warmth brushing against my tongue.

“…but not my soul.”

Elsa bowed.

“The Prince is only worried about you, Princess. Please don’t blame him.”

I smiled faintly.

“I know.”

But deep inside, something whispered:

"Tyrants don't always come with swords.
Sometimes they come with good intentions,
wanting to take away your choices."

I got up. A small movement, but one filled with resolve.

"Mikael, that's enough for tonight. I want to rest."

"Yes... Good night, Big Sis."

"Good night, Master."

Elsa followed me out.
I didn't look back.
Because I knew, behind me, sat a younger brother... who loved me in his way.
And I...
I was too broken to return that love in kind.

As I left the room, now accompanied only by plates and candles, a soft voice was barely audible.

"Big Sis... why won't you understand...? I just want to protect you..."
"I just want you to be by my side when my time comes to lead..."

But I was too far away from that voice.
And far deeper than any belated good intentions could touch.
I looked back. I saw Mikael about to follow me.
But just as he was about to get up, he sat back in his golden chair.
He remained silent for a long time.
Until I left, leaving him alone, as if my affection refused to touch him.
The last candle in the dining room flickered, as if sighing with disappointment.

—

Return to the Bedroom: Between Candles and Secrets

This room was too large for a girl as fragile as I.
Too quiet… for someone who carried too many sounds from the past.

As soon as the door closed behind me, silence enveloped it like a cloak of night.
Only the ticking of the clock and my breathing dared to interrupt.
Even the wind withdrew, as if knowing this place did not belong to the world.

Elsa still stood upright in front of the door.
Silent.
Obedient.
Like a shadow trained to have no desires.

"Elsa," I said quietly, "you must be tired. Please rest tonight."

She bowed deeply, the gesture almost ritualistic.

"Thank you. Good night, Princess."

"Good night."

When she left, it felt like more than just a servant's departure.
But rather the departure of the only witness who could still call me 'Princess' without fear.

I lit a candle on the study table—a small light trying to fight a darkness too deep to uncover.
And like that candle, I sat down: a tiny flame in a system that wanted to extinguish me.

The old wardrobe in the corner of the room opened with a soft creak.
It wasn't a place for dresses, nor for jewelry.
But hidden beneath the piles of thin fabrics and wooden boxes were the most dangerous relics:
Books from a lost world.
Bound in silver thread.
Written in a script unknown to anyone… except me.

They called them Forbidden Artefacts.
But to me, these weren't forbidden objects.
They were a legacy that should never be forgotten.
And perhaps… the only compass left if this world is to ever know justice again.

—

Books That Whisper from Buried Ages

The language in this book…
is not letters, but shapes.
Not sentences, but patterns.
Not stories…but wounds.
Imperial scholars take years to decipher just one page.
I just need nights like this.

Because I don't read with my eyes.
I read with my memory.
With my soul.
With a guilt too old to be a seventeen-year-old girl's.
I, Sophie Stronghold.

The princess of moonlight, they thought, was just a passing wind in the palace of night.
But tonight, and every night, I read of a world that once was…and that might return.

—

The World Before This World

I know now…
That the Stronghold Empire was not the beginning.
It was built from ruins.
From the remains of a civilisation once so high it touched the sky, but too fragile to survive.

In these books, I see…
Iron birds flying without wings.
Steel chariots hurtling through flames.
Towering like mountains, giant glass domes that could hold thousands of people.
Light that came not from the stars, but from their own hands.
They lived for hundreds of years.
They cured deadly diseases.
They created weapons that could wipe out cities in a single breath.
But... they were all gone.

There were no great wars.
No records of destruction.
All that remained... was silence.
And that silence... was more terrifying than any explosion.
But the Empire didn't want stories. They wanted utility.

—

The Secret I Didn't Write

I wrote a report at the table, with Sophie's hand, weak but neat.
I copied a small portion: about history, about a disease that once killed millions.
They called it the red sickness.
Fever. Festering sores. Blood boiling beneath the skin.

I knew how they cured it.
But I didn't write it down.
Because a single paragraph could save the world...
...or give it to a tyrant.

All I shared with the Empire were fragments—enough to keep them happy.
But not enough to keep them in power.
The important thing, I always kept... within myself.

—

Closing Night, Beginning of a New Role

The clock chimed softly. Morning had touched the windowsill.
I closed the last book, tucked it back into the cupboard, and locked it with three locks.
My hands were too tired to continue writing.
But my heart… still wanted to scream.

I lay down on my bed.
I took off the necklace that held the Inheritor's Sigil pendant:
The symbol of the Stronghold Empire's greatness.
And placed it on my bedside table.
I pulled the blanket, too luxurious for a girl who knew too much.
The candles began to burn out.

When Sophie fell asleep… Scarlett would wake.
And the world… would once again see the girl they thought had no secrets.
Yet, I held the key to destruction and rebirth.
Two bodies.
One soul.
One goal:
That power would cease to inherit wounds.
And truth… could finally speak without whispering.
In my final breath before dreams came, I felt this body—not mine—slowly surrendering to its true owner.