Chapter 3: The Golden Threads

The room was breathtaking, almost dreamlike in its splendor.

Seraphina blinked as her eyes roamed over the intricate carvings on the enormous wooden crest bed that dominated the space.

It was unlike anything she had ever seen in her life—or even read about.

The bedposts seemed to tell a story, each curve and flourish of the wood revealing images of soaring phoenixes and blooming flowers.

Plush red and gold curtains framed the bed like a regal throne, while soft golden light filtered in through the delicate silk curtains draped over the windows.

The air smelled faintly of roses and sandalwood, but Seraphina had no time to admire the room.

Her mind was a chaotic mess, torn between disbelief and panic.

She was still grappling with the absurdity of her situation.

Transmigrated into a fantasy novel?

As the villainess?

And now she was supposed to save the poisoned prince?

Her stomach twisted. "What am I supposed to do?" she muttered to herself, pacing in frantic circles. "This isn't how it's supposed to go. Rosalind was the one who got the golden threads! Not me!"

She paused, running her hands through her hair, her voice rising in frustration. "Why do I have to deal with this? I'm not even supposed to have golden threads!"

Before she could spiral further, the shimmering figure of the system AI appeared before her, as calm and unbothered as ever. Its voice was annoyingly cheerful.

"The only way to rid the Crown Prince of the poison is to manifest the golden threads," the AI chirped.

Seraphina froze, staring at it incredulously. "Manifest the golden threads?" she repeated, her voice cracking. "How? I'm not even supposed to have them! This wasn't in the book!"

The AI tilted its head as if considering her dilemma. "The plot has changed," it said simply, as though that explained everything.

"That's not helpful!" she snapped, stomping her foot. "Rosalind sacrificed half her lifeline to gain the golden threads. She gave up everything! Why do I have them now? I didn't sacrifice anything!"

"The threads are bound to you now," the AI replied, unbothered. "Figure it out quickly. You only have thirty minutes before the poison fully takes over his system."

Her heart sank. Thirty minutes? She didn't even know where to begin! She lifted her trembling hand, trying to recall everything she could about how Rosalind had summoned the golden threads in the story.

She closed her eyes, focusing hard, and willed the threads to appear. Nothing happened.

She groaned loudly, the sound of her frustration echoing in the room. "Why isn't this working?" she hissed under her breath.

Desperation clawed at her. She tried again, mimicking everything Rosalind had done in the novel.

Raising her hands, imagining the threads, focusing her energy—but still, nothing. Not even a flicker.

Time was slipping away, and the AI's voice chimed in again. "Twenty minutes left."

"Shut up, I'm trying!" she snapped, pacing again. Her mind raced for a solution.

She had no idea how to summon the golden threads, no idea how to save the prince. And yet, failure wasn't an option.

Frustration surged through her. She tried again, harder this time, focusing all her energy. But nothing happened. Not even a flicker.

"What's wrong with me?" she muttered, her voice breaking.

"The threads are bound to you," the AI repeated, unhelpfully. "You must unlock them yourself."

She clenched her fists, a hot tear sliding down her cheek. "But I don't know how!"

Desperation fueled her next move. If she couldn't summon the golden threads on her own, maybe she could force them to appear.

Taking a deep breath, she leaned over the unconscious Crown Prince, her hands trembling as she placed them on either side of his face.

His skin was cold, his veins darkening with the creeping poison.

"Please work," she whispered. Then, in a bold move that made her heart race, she pressed her lips against his.

At first, there was nothing. But then, warmth spread through her body, and she felt it—a spark

The golden threads burst forth from her wrists. They swirled and danced in the air, wrapping around the prince's body in a luminous cocoon.

The light was blinding, and Seraphina could only watch in awe and terror as the poison was absorbed, turning the threads black.

The threads glowed for a moment longer before retracting into her wrists. The room plunged into darkness.

"Open this door!" someone shouted from outside. "What are you doing to the prince?"

"She's a witch!" another voice cried. "We didn't know she had mage powers!"

Panic clawed at Seraphina. "Did it work?" she whispered to herself, her heart racing.

She shook the prince, trying to wake him. "Hey! Wake up!"

He groaned, his eyes fluttering open.

The room held its breath.

The prince's gaze landed on Seraphina, and for a moment, his expression was one of pure shock. Then his eyes rolled back, and he slumped forward.

"Prince?" someone called out, rushing to his side. "Prince, are you alright?"

Seraphina's heart leaped. Did he—did he open his eyes?

Then the prince's eyes fluttered open, the room was silent, everyone frozen in place. The atmosphere thickened with confusion.

"What… what just happened?" someone whispered, looking around at the others as if seeking answers.

The room buzzed with hurried footsteps. "Your Majesty!" someone called out. "You're alive! Thank the gods!"

Seraphina's father rushed to the prince's side, his voice cracking. "Seraphina… are you okay? What did you… how did you…?" His eyes were wide with disbelief, and he glanced around at the officials, his tone almost desperate.

Seraphina shrugged, trying to play it cool. "I just… told him to wake up, I guess?" Her voice wobbled, unsure if that was the right thing to say.

Her father didn't seem to buy it. "You… just told him?" he echoed, his voice thick with disbelief. "Seraphina, you're not… telling me the truth."

She looked away, her heart sinking. "I don't know, Dad. I just…" She swallowed hard, not wanting to admit the truth. She had no idea how she'd managed to summon the golden threads, let alone bring the prince back from the brink of death.

The officials were now gathered around the prince, their expressions a mix of awe and wariness. "Your Majesty," one of them finally spoke up, his voice shaking. "Are you… alright? What happened?"

The prince blinked at Seraphina, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I… I don't know," he admitted, his voice rough. "I was…" He hesitated, as if recalling a dream. "I was in a dream… there was…nothing, and then… there was something. And now I'm here."

Seraphina's heart lurched. Did he… remember anything? Was that a flashback to when he was in that void, or was it just a coincidence?

Seraphina clenched her fists, her mind racing. She didn't know what to make of this, whether it was a blessing or a curse.

But she didn't dare voice her thoughts aloud, not with everyone looking at her like she was some kind of sorceress.

Her father, however, gave a weary smile. "I'm just glad you're okay, Seraphina. That's all that matters." He reached out, pulling her into a tight hug. "I don't care what they say… you're my daughter, and that's all that matters."

Seraphina's chest tightened at his words, a pang of guilt stirring in her heart. He loved her, even though she was someone else entirely. "Thanks, Dad," she muttered, her voice thick.

The officials exchanged glances, still looking at her as though she held the answers to the universe. "Your Majesty," one of them started again, "we must report this to the council immediately. They will want to know how you survived… and how she… managed it."

The prince looked up alarmingly as if he suddenly remembered something, and started heavily focused at Seraphina.

Seraphina froze.