Chapter 7.

  To Touch the Untouchable.

  A few days prior, Elisa stood upon the stone balcony of her chambers, watching the birds carve arcs across the vast, open sky.

  "The view is exquisite today. The breeze has turned sharp; the seasons are shifting. Summer is fading, and winter is making its herald," she murmured to the empty air. "Winter, huh."

  The thought of the coming frost always brought the Duke to the forefront of her mind. She thought of the mountain of gifts he had sent—the cold gold and glittering gems that sat untouched in the manor. I must return it all, she resolved, her fingers tightening around the stone railing. I will not be bought. I haven't even seen the man's face; I refuse to step blindly into another trap.

  "For now, I must think. I am surrounded on all sides, with no one to offer a hand. If only there were someone..." She let out a heavy sigh and turned to head back inside, but the sudden, sharp flutter of wings caught her attention.

  A eagle descended from the blue, landing gracefully upon Elisa's shoulder. In the Empire, eagles were prized as messengers for their keen intelligence and unwavering loyalty.

  Elisa reached up to pat the bird's breast. "How are you, Ji?" she asked softly. She deftly untied the small cylinder attached to his leg and unrolled the parchment. "Are you hungry? I recall you have a fondness for cookies."

  With a warm smile, she offered the bird a treat from a dish on the table before settling onto the sofa to read.

  Why is Sophia writing to me now? she wondered.

  Sophia, twenty years of age, was the imperial Princess and the only daughter of Emperor Dante. They had been close since childhood. Despite her royal blood, Sophia was the daughter of a lowly maid, a fact that robbed her of the status enjoyed by the Crown Prince and the other imperial offspring. In the palace, being born of a maid was a burden heavier than a crown of lead.

  Elisa read the elegant script silently. 'My dear friend Elisa. It has been too long—two months, perhaps. It breaks my heart to know you are suffering through such unfortunate events while I, your friend, sit idle. I feel a profound shame.'

  Elisa's grip on the paper tightened. "Silly girl," she whispered. "Always blaming herself. It is I who am grieved that I cannot pull you out of that hellish palace."

  She continued reading: 'I long to spend time with you, though I know it is impossible for now. I miss you dearly. Every day I pray to Goddess Kiana that these dark clouds over your head finally break. While I cannot help you openly, I can give you this. Look at the back of the letter.'

  Elisa flipped the parchment, but it appeared entirely blank. She glanced back at the instructions.

  'When you dampen the paper, all shall be revealed. I pray this serves you well. Until we meet again, my dear Elisa. Goodbye.'

  A soft smile touched Elisa's lips. Despite the chaos of her life, she was not entirely alone; there were still those who loved and trusted her. She reached for the water carafe on the table and tilted it. As the cool liquid saturated the fibers, ink began to bloom like a dark flower.

  Alley 202, Backward Area of the Capital market. Shop 307. Wild Dog Investigation Bureau.

  "A guild. Famous, yet shrouded in mystery," Elisa mused. "How in the world did Sophia find this address?"

  Present Day.

  Karlo had escorted Elisa and Sia back to the capital market, where they had safely reunited with their carriage. Now, they were jolting along the cobblestones toward home. Sia was pale, exhausted by the horrors she had witnessed at the bureau, while Elisa stared out the window, lost in a labyrinth of thought.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Who could possibly possess the strength for such high-level illusion magic? she wondered, resting her chin on her hand. Only one day has passed, yet it has been utterly overwhelming.

  Sia nudged her gently. "My Lady, where has your mind wandered? Are you truly alright?"

  "It's nothing, Sia. Just stray thoughts of little importance." Elisa's eyes fell upon the handkerchief clutched in Sia's hand. It was fine linen with a masculine embroidery. "That... is not your handkerchief. The design is for a gentleman."

  Sia flinched, a crimson flush creeping up her neck. "O-oh. Yes. Sir Karlo lent it to me when I was... perspiring."

  Elisa didn't press her, but a small, knowing smile played on her lips as she patted the girl's shoulder. "You are growing up, Sia."

  "What is that supposed to mean? I am only three years younger than you! Please stop treating me like a babe," Sia grumbled, pouting at the floorboards. But her face soon clouded with worry. "But My Lady, what of your dress? The Founding Festival is nearly upon us."

  "We will find a way, don't fret. A gown is the least of my concerns right now. My focus is elsewhere."

  Elisa sighed. She knew that no matter what she wore, the vipers of high society would find a way to strike. She trusted the guild to do their work, but she could not simply sit and wait.

  Suddenly, the carriage lurched to a violent halt. The force threw Elisa and Sia from their seats, sending them tumbling into a heap.

  "Ugh... ouch," Sia moaned, clutching her arm.

  "Are you hurt? Easy now," Elisa said, helping sia up.

  A frantic knock sounded at the door. Elisa pushed the window shade aside. "Are you both unharmed?" the coachman asked, his voice shaking.

  "We are fine. But why the sudden stop?"

  The coachman fidgeted with his cap, his face pale. "My apologies, My Lady. A small child ran directly in front of the horses."

  "Is the child hurt?"

  The man swallowed hard. "She is but a lowly commoner girl, likely from the nearby settlement. She... she is lying in the road."

  Elisa's heart skipped. "What? Have you lost your senses? You should have checked on her immediately! Open the door. I must see her."

  "B-but My Lady, there is no need for you to soil your boots. I will simply move her to the side of the road," the coachman stammered.

  Elisa leveled a cold, sharp glare at him. "Open the door."

  The man obeyed. Elisa and Sia stepped out into the dust. As Elisa approached the small figure, her breath caught in her throat. The child was not moving. Her clothes were mere rags, and her skin was patterned with the jagged, angry welts of a lash—fresh wounds that told a story of brutal cruelty. The girl looked no more than eight years old.

  Elisa felt a phantom pain in her own flesh. Seeing the child in this state brought back the ghosts of her past life; she knew the sting of those marks too well. Without hesitation, she knelt in the dirt, gathering the girl into her lap.

  "My Lady, you are a noble! She is a low-class commoner. Please, do not touch her!" the coachman cried.

  In the Empire, the caste system was an iron law:

  The First Class (Royalty): The Imperial Family, those who held the divine right to rule.

  The Second Class (Elite): The Aristocrats and High Nobles, who commanded lands and titles.

  The Third Class (Commoners): The backbone of the economy—merchants, traders, and farmers.

  The Fourth Class (Low-class Commoners): These were the "Untouchables" of the Empire—society's castoffs. This group was a desperate mixture of fallen nobles, criminals, political dissidents who dared defy the throne, and slaves.

  Superstition held that their very touch could transfer a hex to a noble's blood. But Elisa lived outside the bounds of such nonsense. All she saw was a bruised child whose eyes were swimming with tears she was too weak to shed.

  "Give me water," Elisa commanded.

  Sia fetched a flask, and Elisa carefully trickled a few drops into the girl's mouth.

  "Cough... he..." the child rasped.

  Elisa leaned closer. The girl's small hand clenched Elisa's expensive silk gown. "Help... please. My mother... and brother..." her voice broke into a sob.

  Elisa stood, lifting the child in her arms. "Sia, let's go."

  "My Lady, please, I beg you!" the coachman pleaded. "Nobles cannot enter a Low-class village! You know the tales!"

  It was said that a noble who entered such a place never returned alive; that the residents would tear them apart in a fit of generational rage. The coachman's fear was justified, but Elisa's heart was set.

  "Wait here. We will be fine."

  They walked for a time until the path grew narrow and the air sour. They entered the settlement, a place of crumbling shacks and stagnant gutters. It was eerily quiet; the residents had vanished into the shadows of their homes at the sight of Elisa's finery.

  The stench of decay and filth hung heavy in the air, and small, biting insects swarmed in the humidity.

  "Ugh... it hurts... it hurts so much," the girl wept, her fingers digging into Elisa's dress.

  Elisa ducked into a small, dilapidated hut to escape prying eyes.

  "My Lady, the smell is unbearable. Please, let us leave," Sia said, covering her nose.

  "The child is suffering, Sia."

  Elisa laid the girl down on the floor. "Little one, I am going to do something. But you must promise me—not a word to anyone. If you keep my secret, I shall bring you more candies than you can count."

  She placed her palm upon the girl's forehead. Slowly, a shimmering, white-gold light began to emanate from Elisa's hand. It was faint at first, then grew steady.

  The girl's wounds began to knit together. The angry red welts faded, the skin smoothing over until there was no trace of the lash. In an instant, the agony vanished.

  "My Lady, you never cease to amaze me," Sia whispered.

  "Why? You knew I possessed healing magic, Sia."

  "Yes, but... not like this."

  Healing magic was common among priests, but it usually only dulled pain or closed shallow cuts. Elisa's power was different. It erased the very memory of the injury from the flesh. It was a tier of magic that even the High Priests of the Holy Land could not claim.

  This power had manifested on her sixteenth birthday, alongside the memories of her past life. I hate using it, Elisa thought, looking at the child. Every time I call upon this light, the memories of my past grow louder.

  "Oh! The pain... it's gone!" The girl sat up, her eyes wide as she looked at Elisa. "Pretty aunty, are you a magician?"

  "Something like that. But remember your promise," Elisa said, standing up. "What is your name?"

  "T... Tia," the girl said softly. She reached out to grab Elisa's hand. "Aunty, can you save my mother and brother too?"

  "I will. Do you trust me?"

  "Fa... Father hits Mother. He hits us too. Please save them." Tears began to track through the grime on Tia's face.

  "Show me the way."

  They navigated the narrow, filth-strewn alley until they reached a lopsided wooden shack. Elisa didn't bother to knock; she threw the door open and froze.

  Before her stood a man, his face twisted in a drunken snarl, a heavy smithing hammer raised in his hand. A woman lay crumpled on the floor, bleeding and broken, while a small boy cowered in terror beneath a splintered table.