Erica

  She heard footsteps echoing through the shadowy corridor she’d just walked—steady, deliberate, and impossible to ignore. This was the passage to the hidden library of the Illuminati, buried beneath Nero’s Domus Aurea, a place that clung to its secrets like a jealous lover. And those footsteps? There was no mistaking them. Cutrone.

  Ugh. Of all people.

  He stepped into the doorway, pausing just long enough to make it clear he was waiting for her to acknowledge him. But Erica stayed laser-focused ahead, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

  Cutrone cleared his throat. “Ahem.”

  Oh, he wants attention? Fine, let him wait.

  But, of course, patience wasn’t his thing. She could hear his shoes strike the stone floor as he marched closer, stopping inches in front of her. He wasn’t exactly subtle.

  Now she had no choice but to look at him. Middle-aged, balding, with more forehead than hair and deep lines carved across his face like some ancient map. The dude looked like he hadn’t slept since forever. His tired eyes peered down at her from behind glasses that practically screamed scholar.

  “I didn’t expect to find you here,” he said, skipping any sort of polite introduction. Guess he figured she didn’t need it. And, fair enough—she didn’t. She was a Queen, after all, and she could feel the vibrations he sent through the Light—subtle ripples of his presence, as unmistakable as his voice.

  She gave him a smile so sharp it could cut glass. “Professor Cutrone. What an honor.”

  His lip twitched—a tiny, irritated spasm—and her smirk deepened. Bullseye.

  “It’s cold in here,” he said, ignoring her sarcasm. “Want my jacket?”

  Seriously? She rolled her eyes. “Thanks, but no. I’m fine. Won’t be staying long, anyway. You, though…” She gestured lazily to the mountain of books he’d brought with him. “Looks like you’re settling in for the long haul.”

  “Just a quick consultation,” he shot back, his voice dripping with disinterest. He placed the books on the table with a reverence that almost made her laugh. This guy treats his tomes like holy relics. Does he pray to them too? Then he turned those tired-yet-annoyingly-proud eyes on her, scrutinizing her like she was one of his dusty manuscripts.

  “Tell me, child,” he said, the word practically oozing condescension. “Did Maria send you here?”

  Child? Really? Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t let him see the hit. “I’m not a child,” she said coolly. “And yes, Maria suggested I come. I hope you’re not offended, professor.”

  “And why would I be offended?” he asked, throwing his arms wide in some kind of over-the-top gesture.

  “For intruding on your kingdom, obviously.”

  “This isn’t my kingdom,” he scoffed. “It’s a library. Open to anyone with the Council’s permission.”

  “Don’t be so modest,” she fired back. “No one knows this place better than you.”

  “That’s probably true,” he admitted.

  “In fact, some of these books were written by you, weren’t they?”

  “That’s certainly true,” he said, and—for the first time—let slip the faintest shadow of a smile.

  They stared each other down, a silent battle of wills crackling between them, until he finally broke the stalemate.

  “You’re just a girl,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “You should be out at a café, hanging out with friends—or at home, studying.”

  Sure. Right. And turn into a nerdy fanboy of your work, too? “One of your books, maybe?” she quipped, raising an eyebrow.

  “That too,” he said with a shrug, pretending he couldn’t care less. “Why not?”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Erica placed her hands on the table, her muscles tensed as if ready to spring to her feet. She struggled to contain her indignation; the last thing she wanted was to give this insufferable man the satisfaction of seeing her lose her cool. Gritting her teeth, she took a deep breath through her nose and spoke, her voice steady. “I’m no slave to Maria, or to anyone. I’m a young woman, not a little girl. And if you must know, when I feel like it, I do go out to have fun, just as you suggest.”

  Cutrone took a step back. His gruff, brusque demeanor softened momentarily into something that almost resembled regret—a fleeting, tender smile. Erica blinked, startled. What was that? A crack in the armor? She knew Cutrone had a son. Maybe he saw some reflection of his own struggles in her? Or maybe he just knew how hard life was for someone like her—a Queen trying to fake normalcy.

  Without a word, he shifted the lantern’s light toward a nearby shelf, and his face slipped into shadow. “Over there lies the history of recent times,” he said, gesturing at a row of books. “Among the quotations from the last Grand Masters and the Council’s most significant decisions, you’ll even find something about yourself. Your date of birth, the pivotal events surrounding you before you could even say your first word… Not because you did anything remarkable—no. Simply because you were born. So, tell me, are you still so sure you’re just an ordinary girl?”

  Erica forced herself to keep her face unreadable, her lips pressed into a stubborn line. Don’t let him in.

  “In those records,” Cutrone continued, his voice low and sharp, “you’ll find the so-called escape of Maria Rovelli and her Sisters to America, under the pretense of caring for you.”

  There it was. The jab she’d been waiting for. Erica scoffed, the sound slicing through the heavy silence. “There was no escape.”

  “And how would you know?” Cutrone’s voice rose like a hammer striking stone, loud and commanding. “You were only a few weeks old when you left.”

  Erica shook her head, firm and defiant. “I’ll say it again: there was no escape. They had a plan.”

  “Oh? And what plan would that be?” His tone dripped with condescension.

  “How should I know?” It’s none of your business.

  “There is no plan,” he sneered, a twisted smile curling his lips. His head tilted slightly, his expression radiating smug satisfaction, as though he could already taste victory. He thinks he’s got me cornered. Before she could respond, he drove the point home: “It wasn’t your fault. A Grand Master—and Maria was the Grand Master—must either stay in her rightful place or relinquish the role to someone else.”

  “Maria is still the Grand Master, whether you like it or not,” Erica shot back. Her eyes narrowed. “But let me guess—you think she should’ve stepped down and handed the position to you, right?”

  For a heartbeat, Cutrone hesitated. Then he smirked, flashing yellowed teeth in the lantern’s flickering glow. “I won’t deny the thought crossed my mind.”

  Of course it did. Erica shivered, struck by the venom in his expression. She wished she could be anywhere but here, far from this man whose ambition was as sharp and cruel as the scalpel she’d felt in her vision.

  “You can no longer illuminate, can you?” she asked, her voice laced with quiet defiance.

  “True. I’ve lost the ability to use the Light.”

  Erica leaned forward, seizing her moment. “Then how could you ever hope to serve as Grand Master?”

  Cutrone’s eyes narrowed. “Do you even know what a Grand Master does?”

  “No,” she replied flatly. Even though I know perfectly well.

  “Do you understand the political, bureaucratic, and legislative responsibilities of the role?” He rattled off the words like weapons, trying to overwhelm her with their weight.

  Erica sensed his vibrations in the Light—prickly and agitated, but not dangerous. She tilted her head, studying him. You’re not evil, are you? Just… lost. For a moment, she felt the faintest pang of pity. Then it was gone. Queens couldn’t afford pity—not when the stakes were this high.

  She gave him a faint, sarcastic smile. “No, all of this doesn’t…”

  “Exactly. All of this is the Grand Master’s primary task.”

  “And who decided that? You?” Erica fired back.

  Cutrone’s eyes flashed with anger, but the emotion faded quickly, replaced by a patronizing calm. It was clear he didn’t think she was worth arguing with anymore. She was too young, too burdened, in his mind, to truly understand her role. He didn’t say it outright, but his condescension screamed louder than words.

  “As I said before: you should be out enjoying yourself,” he concluded with a dismissive wave, lowering himself into a chair and opening one of his prized tomes.

  But he was wrong. Erica wasn’t some ordinary girl, even if he wanted her to be. No matter where she went—whether strolling through a café or wandering a city street—she would always feel the vibrations he left in the Light. His bitterness, his wounded pride, his faded glory. She, who until days ago thought she was the only Queen in the modern world, saw everything. Felt everything.

  But understanding it? That was the hard part. Her gift and her curse.

  An ordinary girl… she mused, rising from her seat. Without a word, she replaced the documents and walked out of the room, leaving him and his ambitions behind.

  The corridor stretched before her, cold and endless. Diagrams and symbols seemed to shimmer faintly on the walls, as though carved into the darkness itself. The flickering lantern barely held back the void, its light swallowed by the shadows with every step she took.

  I don’t want this…

  She finally emerged into the daylight, blinking as the sun struck her face like a slap. Cutrone’s words echoed in her head, a mocking refrain. A normal girl. If only.

  She pushed forward, her steps quick and purposeful, putting as much distance as she could between herself and the ruins of the Domus Aurea. The truth weighed heavily on her, though, refusing to be left behind.

  Normal? She’d never been that. Not even close.

  Name: Erica

  Illumination type: Queen

  Power: Resonate Perception

  Name: Cutrone

  Illumination type: None

  Power: NA