Princess Amelia sat in her dimly lit room, her tears staining the silk pillow cradled in her lap. The weight of recent events pressed heavily on her chest, and the quiet emptiness of the palace only made it worse. A tub of Ice cream and plays from the Jester of Joy wouldn't help her this wasn't just about teenage boys but one thing, she was a weakling and the people around her probaly will always be Infront of her, miles and miles Infront

She glanced toward her bedside table, where a small portrait of her late mother rested. The woman in the picture smiled warmly, her golden tiara catching the light like a halo.

"Mother," Amelia whispered, her voice trembling. "I wish you were here. You'd know what to do."

"Dad would've never spoke to me like that, or even lied to me so easily."

Hoping to find comfort, she rose and approached the portrait. With a gentle touch, she ran her fingers over the painted surface. For a brief moment, it felt as though her mother's kind violet eyes were truly gazing back at her. Her smile even seemed real. A sudden warmth spread through Amelia's fingertips, glowing faintly against the canvas. Startled, she stepped back, clutching her hand to her chest.

"What... was that?" she murmured, her heart pounding. But the glow faded as quickly as it had appeared, leaving her staring at the still, lifeless image.

Curiosity replacing her tears, Amelia reached out again. This time, she gripped the edges of the frame and carefully lifted it off the wall. As the frame came free, a soft click echoed through the room. Behind the portrait, where she expected nothing but stone, was a small, square opening.

Her breath hitched. "What is this?"

Inside the hole lay an ornate scroll, bound with a crimson ribbon, protected by a delicate glass dome. Dust clung to the edges of the enclosure, but the scroll itself appeared untouched by time. Intricate carvings surrounded the hole, forming symbols she couldn't quite understand.

Amelia hesitated for only a moment before reaching inside. The glass dome was surprisingly cool to the touch, but it came away easily, revealing the scroll. She held it in her hands, the weight of it strangely heavy for its size.

She unraveled the ribbon, her fingers trembling as she unrolled the parchment. Ancient script danced across the page, shimmering faintly in the dim light. Though she couldn't read the language, the symbols stirred something deep within her—a memory she couldn't quite grasp, a connection to something older than herself.

"What is this...?" she whispered again, her voice echoing softly in the quiet room.

At the bottom of the scroll was a single, readable line in her own language:

"To awaken what has been lost, the bearer must find the Three Keys and face the Truth."

The thing that came to mind was her 3 siblings she knew about but did not live In the castle with her.

Amelia's pulse quickened. The glow returned to her hands, faint at first but steadily growing brighter as if the scroll was reacting to her. She stumbled backward, clutching it tightly as questions flooded her mind.

What did this mean? What truth? And why had her mother hidden this? She started thinking about every possible explanation. What If this was hidden by her father?

The tears from earlier returned, but this time they were tears of confusion and determination. Amelia knew one thing for certain—this was no coincidence. The scroll was meant for her, and whatever secret it held, she had to uncover it.

Placing the scroll carefully on her desk, she looked at her mother's portrait once more. The warm smile in the painting now felt like a promise, a silent encouragement. Than out of nowhere a glass shattered. 

The sharp sound of shattering glass echoed through the room, breaking Amelia's trance. Her head whipped toward the source. Across the room, the crystal vase her father had gifted her for her last birthday lay in pieces on the floor. But there was no one else in the room.

Amelia's pulse raced as her eyes darted to every corner. "Who's there?" she called, her voice shaking but firm.

Silence.

She edged closer to the broken vase, her slippers crunching softly against the shards. Nothing seemed out of place except for the faintest flicker of light in the corner of her eye. She turned back toward the desk, where the scroll rested. The ancient parchment shimmered faintly, as though responding to some unseen force.

Her instincts screamed at her to put it away, to pretend she had never found it. But her curiosity overpowered her fear. Amelia approached the desk cautiously. The symbols on the scroll now seemed alive, shifting and glowing faintly.

Suddenly, the air in the room grew heavy. A faint hum resonated through the walls, sending a shiver down her spine. She clutched the scroll tightly, her knuckles white. "What's happening?" she whispered.

A voice, low and distant, seemed to whisper through the hum. It wasn't clear, more like an echo at the edge of her consciousness. She couldn't make out the words, but the tone was urgent.

Her gaze darted back to the hidden alcove where she had found the scroll. The carvings around the hole began to glow faintly, the same hue as her hands had earlier. Amelia took a shaky step back, the enormity of what she had uncovered dawning on her.

"This is more than just a message," she muttered. "It's... a key."

The hum grew louder, resonating through the room. The scroll vibrated in her hands, and Amelia felt a surge of energy course through her body, rooting her to the spot. Images flashed in her mind—an ancient temple, a golden key shimmering in the darkness, and three figures standing together, their faces obscured by shadow.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, the hum ceased. The scroll lay silent and still in her trembling hands. The glow around the carvings faded, and the room plunged back into quiet stillness.

Amelia gasped for air, her knees weak. She sank into her chair, clutching the scroll as if it were her lifeline.

"I have to figure this out," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze turned to the shattered vase once more. "And I need to know who—or what—did that."

Soon she saw someone come out hands where she could see them.

"W-what are you doing out here so late princess?" Her maid and friend Benjamin asked.

"N-nothing!" She tried covering the hole she'd discovered In the wall. "The scroll.." He looked down.

"You.found.It" A smile crept onto his face

"Huh? I found It, what does that mean, do you mind explaining?" Amelia was confused as of now. Benjamin snatched the scroll out her hand smiling big and practically drooling

"Oh, Yes Amelia Your mothers alive" He said casually walking off.  Princess Amelia's heart stopped. The words rang in her ears, each one sharper than the last.

Your mother's alive.

"Wait!" she shouted, leaping to her feet. Her voice cracked with desperation. "What are you talking about? Benjamin!"

He didn't stop. His stride was slow but deliberate as he headed for the door, clutching the scroll like a prize. The soft glow from the parchment illuminated his face, his features twisted into an expression Amelia didn't recognize—smug, almost gleeful.

"Benjamin!" she yelled again, rushing after him. She grabbed his arm, pulling him to a halt. "You can't just say something like that and walk away. Explain yourself! How do you know my mother's alive? Where is she?"

He turned, his smile widening. But there was something off about it—something cruel. "Oh, Princess," he said, his tone dripping with mockery. "You really don't know, do you? After all this time?"

"Know what?" she demanded, her grip tightening.

Benjamin tilted his head, studying her like a puzzle he was trying to solve. "This scroll," he said, holding it up, "isn't just some ancient artifact. It's a map, a key, and a test. And it's the reason your mother is still alive."

Amelia's breath caught. "Still alive...?" she echoed.

"Alive but hidden," he clarified. "Your father's lies didn't just bury the truth—they buried her."

Her grip on his arm faltered. "What are you saying? That my father... he..."

"Not so fast," Benjamin said, pulling his arm free. "There's more to this than you could possibly understand right now. But don't worry. I'll make sure the scroll gets to where it needs to go."

He turned toward the door again, but Amelia wasn't about to let him leave. She lunged forward, grabbing for the scroll. "Give it back!"

Benjamin sidestepped her with ease, his movements unnervingly quick. He spun to face her, his smile vanishing. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," he warned, his voice low.

Amelia froze, her chest heaving. "Why not?"

"Because you're not ready for what this scroll unlocks," he said. "Not yet."

Her hands curled into fists. "If it has something to do with my mother, I need to know. And you don't get to decide what I'm ready for!"

Benjamin studied her for a long moment, his gaze piercing. Then, to her surprise, he sighed. "You really are your mother's daughter," he muttered, almost to himself. "Fine. If you're so determined, I'll tell you one thing."

Amelia waited, her heart pounding.

"She's alive," Benjamin repeated, "but she's not safe. And if you want to find her, you'll have to be stronger than you are now. The truth isn't just going to hurt, Princess—it's going to destroy everything you thought you knew."

"What truth?" she pressed. "Tell me!"

But instead of answering, Benjamin turned and strode toward the door, scroll in hand. This time, she didn't try to stop him.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Amelia sank to the floor, her mind racing. Her mother was alive. Her father had lied. And the scroll was the key to everything.

She looked back at the shattered vase, her reflection fractured in the shards. Benjamin's words were confusing why does he know so much about the scroll?