# Chapter 1: The Last Witness

Emilia Reed scratched notes on her parchment as Master Physician Caldwell examined the merchant's broken arm. The small treatment room smelled of herbs and antiseptic tinctures.

"You're fortunate," Caldwell told the merchant. "A clean break that should heal properly if you follow my instructions."

Emilia glanced up from her notes. "I'll prepare the splint and wrapping, Master Caldwell."

She moved to the cabinet where they kept their supplies. This was her third year as Caldwell's assistant, and she knew the location of every item in the royal infirmary. Most days brought a steady stream of palace staff with various ailments—kitchen burns, guard training injuries, or the occasional nobleman with gout. Treating the actual royal family remained rare, especially the king himself.

Someone knocked urgently at the door. Emilia opened it to find Captain Thorne of the King's Guard standing there, his face tight with concern.

"Master Caldwell is needed immediately. The king has taken a turn."

Caldwell looked up from his patient. "I'll be there directly. Emilia, finish with this gentleman."

Emilia nodded and continued preparing the splint. As she worked, Caldwell gathered several bottles and instruments into his medical bag.

"Captain Thorne?" Caldwell asked. "How severe is His Majesty's condition?"

"The night attendant found him struggling to breathe," Thorne said. "He's asking for you specifically."

Caldwell frowned. "Emilia, when you're finished here, bring the willow bark tincture and the blue vial of breathing medicine to the king's chambers. The bottles in my private cabinet."

"Yes, Master Caldwell," she said, focusing on wrapping the merchant's arm.

After Caldwell left with the captain, Emilia secured the splint and gave the merchant instructions for care. She tidied the treatment room and locked up, then headed to Caldwell's private office to retrieve the medicines.

The royal palace corridors were quiet at this late hour. A few servants still moved about with final duties, and guards stood at their posts, but most of the usual bustle had faded. Emilia found the cabinet key where Caldwell always kept it and selected the two bottles he had requested.

As she turned to leave, she noticed a small leather-bound book that had fallen to the floor, likely knocked over in Caldwell's haste. She picked it up and saw it contained notes on the king's health—private records Caldwell kept separate from the official medical journals. Emilia placed it back on the shelf, but not before seeing a concerning note: "His Majesty's lungs weaken daily. I fear the end approaches more rapidly than the council realizes."

She tucked the medicine bottles into her apron pocket and headed toward the royal wing. The palace seemed different at night—shadows stretched along the stone walls, and her footsteps echoed in the empty corridors.

Two guards stood outside the king's chambers. They recognized her as the physician's assistant and allowed her to pass after a quick inspection of the medicine bottles.

"The Master Physician is within?" she asked.

"Yes," the guard replied. "But he may have moved to the adjoining study with Lord Chancellor Rymond. They were discussing something privately."

Emilia nodded and entered the king's outer chamber. The room was dimly lit with only a few candles burning. She expected to find attendants or other nobles, but the room stood empty. The door to the king's bedchamber was partially open, a soft light spilling out.

"Master Caldwell?" she called softly.

No answer came. Emilia approached the bedchamber door hesitantly.

"Master Caldwell?" she tried again, a bit louder. "I've brought the medicines you requested."

Still no response. She pushed the door open wider and peered inside.

The king's massive four-poster bed dominated the room. King Leopold lay propped against several pillows, his thin frame barely making a rise under the rich coverlets. His eyes were closed, his breathing labored. No one else was in the room.

Emilia stepped in, uncertain. "Your Majesty? I've brought medicine from Master Caldwell."

The king's eyes fluttered open. They were cloudy with age but focused on her face.

"Where is Caldwell?" His voice sounded raspy and weak.

"I believe he's speaking with the Lord Chancellor," she replied, approaching the bed. "He sent me with your medicine, Your Majesty."

She recognized the signs of respiratory distress. The king's color seemed poor, and each breath appeared to require effort. She knew the blue vial contained a compound that might ease his breathing.

"Should I find Master Caldwell for you, Your Majesty?"

The king shook his head slightly. "No time," he whispered. "The medicine."

Emilia uncorked the blue vial. "This will help your breathing, Your Majesty."

She supported his head as he drank the medicine. His skin felt paper-thin and cool to her touch. After sixty-eight years on the throne, King Leopold had become almost a living monument to the people of Aldermere. Emilia had only seen him up close a handful of times, usually during Caldwell's examinations.

The king coughed after swallowing the medicine. His breathing seemed to ease slightly, but Emilia noticed his hands trembling on top of the coverlet.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Your Majesty? Shall I call for Master Caldwell now?"

The king's eyes fixed on her face with sudden clarity. "Your name?"

"Emilia Reed, Your Majesty. I'm Master Caldwell's assistant."

A strange expression crossed the king's face—recognition, perhaps, or revelation. His hand shot out and grasped her wrist with surprising strength. Emilia gasped, startled by the unexpected movement.

"The burden passes to you now," he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers.

Emilia tried to pull away gently, concerned the king was becoming delirious. "Your Majesty, I should really find Master Caldwell—"

"Too late," the king murmured. His fingers tightened around her wrist. "Remember... protect the crown... beware the Phantom Duke."

His gaze intensified, boring into hers with desperate urgency. Emilia felt frozen in place, unable to look away from his eyes. Something passed between them—a moment of connection she couldn't explain.

Then the king gasped. His grip on her wrist loosened. His eyes remained open but the light behind them faded as his final breath escaped in a soft sigh.

"Your Majesty?" Emilia leaned closer, checking for signs of life. "Your Majesty!"

She reached for his wrist, feeling for a pulse. Nothing. She placed her hand before his mouth and nose. No breath stirred against her palm.

King Leopold was dead.

Panic surged through her. She was alone with the dead king. She needed to alert the guards, find Caldwell, do something.

As she turned toward the door, it burst open. Guards rushed in, followed by Master Caldwell and Lord Chancellor Rymond.

"The king—" she began.

Caldwell pushed past her to the bed. He checked the king quickly, then turned to the others with a solemn expression. "His Majesty has passed."

The room erupted into controlled chaos. Guards secured the perimeter while Rymond began issuing orders. Emilia found herself pushed aside as more officials entered the chamber.

"What happened?" Caldwell asked her sharply. "Why were you alone with him?"

"I brought the medicine as you asked," she explained, her voice shaking. "You weren't here, and he asked for it. He seemed to be struggling to breathe. After he took it, he grabbed my wrist and said something strange, then... he was gone."

Caldwell's expression darkened. "What did he say to you?"

Before she could answer, Lord Chancellor Rymond approached them. His normally composed face showed concern as his gaze shifted between Caldwell and Emilia.

"You were with His Majesty at the end?" he asked Emilia directly.

"Yes, my lord. I was giving him his medicine."

"Was anyone else present?"

"No, my lord. I was looking for Master Caldwell."

Rymond and Caldwell exchanged a significant look that Emilia couldn't interpret.

"What exactly did His Majesty say to you in his final moments?" Rymond pressed.

Emilia hesitated. "He said 'The burden passes to you now' and something about protecting the crown and beware of... the Phantom Duke, I think?"

Another loaded glance passed between the two men.

"She doesn't understand," Caldwell murmured to Rymond.

"It doesn't matter," Rymond replied quietly. "The ritual doesn't require understanding."

Emilia frowned. "What ritual? What's happening?"

"Nothing to concern yourself with now," Caldwell said, his tone suddenly gentle. "You've had a shock. Captain Thorne will escort you home."

"But my duties—"

"Are suspended for now," Caldwell cut her off. "Go home and rest. I'll send word when you should return."

Captain Thorne appeared at her side, his expression unreadable. "This way, Miss Reed."

As Thorne led her from the room, Emilia glanced back. Rymond was watching her with an intensity that made her uncomfortable. She caught fragments of his whispered conversation with another nobleman.

"...the first commoner in three centuries..."

"...unprecedented situation..."

"...must secure her before the transference completes..."

The guards escorted her through the palace and into a waiting carriage. The night air felt cool against her face as she tried to process everything that had happened. The king was dead. She had been the only one present in his final moments. And now something about her situation seemed to concern the highest officials in the court.

"Captain Thorne," she said as the carriage began moving, "what did Lord Rymond mean about a ritual?"

Thorne's face revealed nothing. "It's not my place to discuss such matters, Miss Reed."

"But it involves me somehow, doesn't it?"

"You should rest," he replied, avoiding her question. "Tomorrow will bring answers."

The carriage ride to her modest home near the city center passed in uncomfortable silence. Thorne insisted on escorting her to her door.

"Guards will remain posted outside," he informed her. "For your protection."

"Protection from what?" she asked, bewildered.

"Good night, Miss Reed."

Inside her small home, Emilia paced the floor. Her mind raced with questions. Why would she need protection? What was this ritual Rymond mentioned? And what had the king meant about a burden passing to her?

As the night deepened, a headache began to form behind her eyes. She sat at her small kitchen table, trying to sort through the evening's events, but the pain intensified until it became difficult to think clearly. She pressed her palms against her temples, trying to alleviate the pressure.

Without warning, an image flashed through her mind—a battlefield she had never seen, soldiers in uniforms from decades past. She gasped as the vision disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Another spike of pain, and another image—this time of a woman's face, beautiful but unfamiliar, leaning close as if for a kiss. Emilia stumbled to her feet, knocking over her chair.

"What's happening to me?" she whispered to the empty room.

The headache worsened, bringing more flashes of memory that couldn't possibly be hers—signing documents with a royal seal, riding a horse through a forest she didn't recognize, attending a council meeting in the palace's private chambers.

She made it to her bed before the pain overwhelmed her. As she collapsed onto the covers, her mind flooded with foreign memories—lives she had never lived, people she had never met, events from the distant past. They came faster and faster until she could no longer distinguish between them.

In her dreams, she was no longer Emilia Reed. She was a young nobleman accepting a crown, an old king dying in battle, a middle-aged ruler signing a peace treaty. She was dozens of people, all with the same thoughts, the same purpose, the same burden of responsibility.

And beneath it all, a constant refrain: "The king lives on. The king never truly dies."

Emilia tossed and turned throughout the night, her mind battling against the invasion of memories that weren't her own. By the time dawn broke, she had fallen into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

A pounding at her door jolted her awake. Sunlight streamed through her window. Her head still throbbed, but the crushing pain had subsided to a dull ache. The knocking continued, more insistent.

Emilia stumbled to the door, still wearing yesterday's clothes. When she opened it, she found four royal guards in formal attire standing on her doorstep. Behind them waited an elegant carriage bearing the royal crest.

"Miss Reed," the lead guard said with a formal bow that seemed strangely out of place. "We've been sent to escort you to the palace immediately."

"Why?" she asked, her voice hoarse from sleep. "Has something happened?"

The guard exchanged glances with his companions. "For the coronation, Miss Reed."

"The coronation?" she repeated, confused. "But the king just died last night. Surely the new king won't be crowned so soon."

The guard's expression revealed nothing. "We have our orders, Miss Reed. You are expected at the palace without delay."

As Emilia stepped outside, she noticed neighbors watching from their windows and doorways. The sight of royal guards and a royal carriage in their modest neighborhood had drawn attention.

"I need to change my clothes," she protested. "I can't go to the palace looking like this."

"There is no time," the guard insisted. "Appropriate attire awaits you at the palace."

With little choice, Emilia allowed herself to be escorted to the carriage. As she settled onto the plush seat, the events of the previous night swirled in her mind along with fragments of memories that didn't belong to her.

The king's final words echoed in her thoughts: "The burden passes to you now."

What burden? And why did she suddenly remember details of the palace she had never seen, people she had never met, and a life she had never lived?

The carriage pulled away from her home, carrying her toward answers she wasn't sure she wanted to find.