The sunlight filtered through the curtains. Someone stood above me. The room was still and quiet. Only the golden rays danced on the walls, hinting that change was near. "Do you know what day it is?" a melodic voice asked.
I opened my eyes slowly—and saw Abigail staring back at me. I jolted upright. "You scared me," I said, pressing a hand to my chest, trying to coax my breath into something steady.
She laughed. "Sorry. It's the day of the ball," she said, her voice chiming like a bell on a winter morning.
"You already got the dress, didn't you?" I guessed, still groggy, rubbing my eyes. She nodded. "Sierra and I."
But Oliver's words from yesterday slipped into my thoughts, uninvited. Something inside me tightened.
"What's wrong?" Abigail asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Oliver said… He only figured out my weaknesses because Sierra told him."
She froze. And then the door opened. Sierra walked in, like the universe had timed it perfectly.
"I did it to help you. I told you that." Her voice was too calm. Too easy.
"He already told me," I said coldly, not meeting her eyes. I didn't want to see pity. Or guilt. I didn't want to see anything at all.
My heart clenched. She had always promised to protect me—and she was the one who…? When our eyes finally met, my breath caught. I couldn't believe it. She had raised me. She had taught me to trust. And now? I wasn't sure I could believe in anything. Or anyone.
Abigail looked shaken. "I can't believe it."
"It's fine," I lied. But my heart knew it wasn't.
Before I could say another word, Dylan stepped in with a wide grin, holding a dress in his hands. It was a breathtaking shade of dusty rose, laced with beads and delicate embroidery.
"Wow. "It's beautiful," I whispered, my fingers brushing the fabric. Smooth and light—like it had been stitched from old dreams. When I held it close, it wrapped around me like something I thought I had forgotten how to feel.
"Maybe one of your visions will come true today," I said softly, taking a step back. Even knowing that didn't make it easier. It felt like betrayal—against myself.
"I remember something about Jace's little sister," Dylan said.
"Yeah, and something about Jace," Abigail added. "I can keep an eye on Allison."
"No. I'll stay with her," I answered, though something twisted in my stomach. That vision—everything burning, Jace screaming my name... I still felt that fire under my skin, even in the cool room air.
"What about you?" I asked Dylan.
He shrugged. "If anyone is going to save us… It's you. Like always."
Sierra said, "I'll be keeping a close watch on you." "And don't forget—Oliver too."
I grimaced. Of course.
The hours crawled like shadows on the wall. Every second felt like a prophecy waiting to happen.
And before we even realized it, evening arrived.
I slipped into the dress. It hugged my body like an old memory—fragile, yet unshakable. The beads shimmered in candlelight. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I didn't see a princess. I saw a warrior in disguise. I wanted them to see strength—not the trembling inside me.
We arrived at the ballroom. It was grand and gleaming. The marble floors reflected our image. Above, a huge glass chandelier hung, casting moving shadows on the dance floor.
The music floated through the air, soft but resonant—like a heartbeat in slow motion. Eyes turned toward me. They all looked. But only two truly saw me.
And a chill passed through me. One of them—a shadow behind a pillar—felt far too familiar. He resembled a figure from a vision. Or perhaps it was a memory I hadn't dared to decipher.
He would come. I knew that. Jace. Even if he didn't speak to me tonight, he would still be present. Even if he no longer believed me, he would be here. And I could feel him watching.
"I see you came after all," a low voice murmured behind me. Oliver.
I turned. He stood before me in a gray suit, eyes gleaming.
"I didn't ask for your opinion," I said with a smirk.
He stepped closer. "Seems you forgot…" He whispered near my ear, "…the vision."
His voice slid down my spine like a shiver. It felt like he knew something—something I had yet to confront.
I stopped breathing. But only for a second.
"I didn't forget. That's why I'm here," I replied, brushing his tie with a single finger. "And please keep in mind—you were assigned to watch me."
He smiled, just at one corner of his mouth. "At least I'm here—not just standing on the sidelines."
The music shifted—a waltz. Slow, royal, almost enchanted.
He held out his hand. "Would you honor me with this dance?"
It took me a heartbeat—maybe less. But I knew—if I didn't dance with him now, I'd be running from myself.
"Yes. I'd like that."
I took his hand. Warm. Steady.
When his hand rested on my waist, my breath caught again. Not from fear—from something else. Something far more dangerous.
The world around us melted away. We moved in a quiet circle. The dance wasn't just movement—it was a conversation between two secrets too afraid to speak.
My body moved with his—like twin shadows gliding through shallow water. His scent. The softness of his suit. The weight of his hand was palpable. And my heart pounded too loudly, too swiftly.
Then—he froze. His gaze shifted toward the same place mine had.
For a moment, I forgot everything until my eyes met his.
Jace.
He stood at the far end of the ballroom, dressed in black. His gaze locked with mine. And my heart broke.
He had been my anchor in a world slipping away—and now, he stood there, cracked open in front of me.
He didn't speak. But his eyes said all the things we never dared. The late-night talks. The glances on the stairs. We never found the time to express our thoughts and feelings.
His eyes burned. His jaw clenched. His fists curled tightly.
My heart froze between two choices—the hand that held me… and the eyes that no longer believed in me.
And when I met his gaze, I knew. He saw. He understood. And it broke him.
And inside me—something screamed. I didn't know if it was longing. Regret. Perhaps it was the fear of what I had done.
The dance. Jace's stare. Oliver's whisper.
It all felt too perfect. Too fragile. Like a scene from a tragedy, I wasn't ready to lead.
And this… this would end in blood. Not all of us would make it home.