The heavy brocade curtains of the Grand Library muffled the sounds of the bustling castle. Ostensibly, Lucian was perusing ancient texts, attempting to glean some hidden wisdom that might help him unravel the tangled threads of his predetermined doom. In reality, the leather-bound volumes felt like a mockery of his situation. He’d written them, or rather, he’d written the world from which they originated. Now, he was trapped inside it, a character in a play he no longer controlled.

The frustration clawed at him, a familiar itch beneath his skin. Where was his laptop? He could have had this mess sorted in an evening, rewriting Lucian’s arc, turning him into a tragic, misunderstood hero instead of a power-hungry villain. But here, surrounded by candlelight and the musty scent of parchment, he felt utterly powerless.

He forced himself to focus. The most pressing matter was the whispers. The King’s health had been failing for months, a slow, insidious decline that had set the court abuzz with speculation and ambition. Officially, it was a rare strain of influenza, exacerbated by the King’s age. But Ethan, thanks to his authorial omniscience, knew the truth.

Poison. A slow-acting, meticulously administered concoction that mimicked the symptoms of natural illness. And he knew exactly who was behind it.

He leaned against a towering bookshelf, feigning interest in a treatise on falconry while his heightened senses strained to pick up any scrap of relevant conversation. The library, typically a sanctuary of quiet contemplation, was humming with nervous energy today. Courtiers, usually so careful to observe proper etiquette, were huddled in hushed whispers, their faces etched with anxiety and greed.

Finally, he heard it. A low, guttural voice, laced with malice, coming from behind a stack of oversized atlases.

"The King weakens daily. Soon, the moment will be upon us."

Another voice, softer but no less chilling, responded, "Are you certain Aurelia won't be a problem? She is her father's daughter, after all. Resilient, and… resourceful."

Lucian's blood ran cold. Aurelia. They were talking about the princess. They weren’t just planning to usurp the throne; they were planning to eliminate her.

"The girl? She's a sentimental fool, clinging to outdated notions of duty and honor. Besides," the first voice chuckled, a dry, rasping sound, "she’ll be far too busy mourning her father to cause any real trouble. By the time she realizes what’s happened, it will be too late."

"And Thorne?" The second voice hesitated. "He’s… unpredictable. He’s pledged to her, isn’t he?"

A dismissive snort. “Thorne is a dog on a leash, easily controlled with promises of power. He’s always wanted the throne, and he’ll get a piece of it, so long as he plays his part. Besides, the alliance between them is a sham, everyone knows Aurelia detests him."

Lucian clenched his fists, the leather of the book creaking in his grip. He knew this conversation. He’d written it. The cold calculation, the casual disregard for human life… it was all ripped straight from the pages of “The Emerald Prophecy.”

He recognized the voices too. The first, the dominant one, belonged to General Marcus, the King's right-hand man, a decorated war hero and trusted advisor. Marcus had been a loyal servant for decades, practically a member of the royal family. Which, of course, made him the perfect candidate for a treacherous villain.

The second voice was harder to place, a smooth, almost oily tone that slithered beneath the surface. It was someone of considerable influence, someone who moved in the shadows and wielded power unseen. He had a name for this person in the novel, he just couldn't seem to put his finger on it. Maybe once he activated his 'Shadow' network he would.

Lucian needed to get out of there. He couldn't just stand idly by, listening to these vipers plot Aurelia’s demise. He had to warn her. He had to protect her, even though, according to his own damn book, he was supposed to be the one orchestrating this whole mess.

He straightened up, trying to appear nonchalant, and sauntered away from the bookshelves. As he passed the atlases, he caught a glimpse of General Marcus, his face a mask of ruthless ambition, a stark contrast to the avuncular facade he presented to the world. Marcus didn’t see him, his attention focused on his companion, who remained hidden in the shadows.

Lucian forced himself to keep walking, his mind racing. He knew the intricacies of this plot, the precise timing of the King's demise, the meticulously planned power grab. He knew the identities of the conspirators, the location of their secret meetings, the web of lies they had woven around the court.

He also knew Lucian Thorne’s part in it. Or rather, the part Ethan Blackwood had assigned him. Lucian was supposed to be the muscle, the enforcer, the one who eliminated any obstacles in Marcus’s path. He was supposed to be the reason Aurelia fell.

He stopped abruptly, his knuckles white as he gripped the stone railing of the library balcony. He couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't.

He might be trapped in this world, a puppet dancing to the tune of his own damn narrative, but he was still Ethan Blackwood. He still had agency. He could choose to deviate from the script.

The question was, how? How could he expose the conspiracy without revealing his own knowledge, without making himself a target? He couldn't simply walk up to Aurelia and tell her he was a writer from another world, cursed by an Archangel to live out the role of her villainous fiancé. She'd have him locked in the asylum faster than he could say "plot twist."

He needed proof. He needed leverage. He needed… Lucian Thorne's network.

He had almost forgotten about it in his panic. The “Shadows.” A clandestine organization of spies, informants, and assassins, built by Lucian over years of cunning and ruthlessness. They were his eyes and ears in the city, his fingers on the pulse of the kingdom. They knew secrets that could topple empires.

And now, they were at Ethan Blackwood’s disposal.

A flicker of hope ignited within him. He might be trapped in this cursed role, but he wasn't defenseless. He had resources, power, and a knowledge of the future that no one else possessed.

He just needed to figure out how to use them.

He straightened his shoulders, a newfound determination hardening his gaze. He had a princess to protect, a kingdom to save, and a fate to rewrite. And he would start with the Shadows.

He needed to find Mary. Mary was... peculiar. Even in the novel, she served as something of a double agent. She was also very skilled, very knowledgeable, and very creepy. Maybe she could shed some light on this.

Leaving the library, he walked toward the servants quarters. His destination: The Eldoria Kitchens. That's where Mary hung around, disguised as a cook. Hopefully, she wouldn't recognize him as just Lucian Thorne.

His heart pounded in his chest. This was it. He was stepping into the shadows, embracing the role of the Shadow Duke, not as a villain, but as a protector.

He was no longer just Ethan Blackwood, the frustrated novelist. He was Lucian Thorne, the Shadow Duke of Eldoria, and he was about to play a very different game. He would rewrite this tragedy and hopefully, he would be able to save himself as well.