I'm at the ball again. But this time—I'm standing in the center of the room.
My mixed marks are exposed. No more hiding. Nowhere left to run. Every gaze pierces me. Dresses whirl around me. The lights sting my eyes. I'm present—and yet I don't even feel like myself.
Behind the crowd, I see Jace. He collapses to his knees, screaming in pain—and I don't understand why.
Out of the corner of my eye, a shadow snatches a little girl. Her scream slices through the mist like a blade.
Her face is hidden, but her pale golden hair streams behind her like it's crying out for me to save her. Braided curls—an image I couldn't erase, no matter how hard I tried.
My heart stops—as if I've seen a ghost from a life I haven't yet lived. Something in her feels too familiar. Too deep. Too real.
And then everything blurs. A hollow voice rips through the dream. The scene dissolves. The creature's words merge with the howling wind—
And I wake.
My heart hammers too fast, a war drum echoing in my chest. It takes me a few seconds to realize I'm not in the ballroom; I'm in my room.
Jace's scent still lingers in the air from the day before. Time hasn't passed—but my body remembers him, even if my mind wants to forget.
I hadn't heard Dylan come in. He always arrives at the exact moment I'm least ready.
"Are you okay?" he asks softly. "Yeah," I lie.
He doesn't believe me—but he doesn't push.
When I come down to the kitchen, Sierra—my adoptive mother—is more worried than she lets on. She masks it with a forced smile and slides a coffee toward me without a word.
"There's a letter for you," she finally said.
I open it. It's from Oliver. He wants to meet. Three times a week.
I can barely survive one lesson with him. Three? That's torture. And if I say yes… what does that say about me?
I hadn't even processed the letter before I was already in the car, heading back to school.
At the entrance, Olsor is waiting. "You summoned a dragon?" His voice carries the weight he tries to hide. "That's… far beyond what you can handle right now."
They rarely agree on much—except for the need to protect me. Each in their own way.
"I'll take her from here," Oliver says.
Olsor's gaze doesn't shift. "Be careful. She's more than you think."
A look passes between them—cold, unspoken.
And me? I try not to fall apart.
Later, in the room, I faced the mirror.
Not the girl I used to be. Not the warrior I'm supposed to become.
Something in between. Something is fractured.
Or maybe… I've already become someone else—and no one noticed.
Not them. Not even me.