The castle was silent that night.
Moonlight spilled across the marble floors like spilled ink, painting the halls in silver and shadow. Fiona — or rather, Wisteria— moved barefoot through the corridor, her silk gown whispering against the cold stone.
Her violet eyes shimmered faintly as she stared out one of the tall windows.
The ocean stretched beyond the cliffs, the same endless sea she had once known in her world.
It looked peaceful.
Almost like home.
She pressed her hand against the glass, whispering,
"I don't belong here."
Her reflection in the glass looked back — hauntingly beautiful, unrecognizable.
Those black-and-purple strands framed a face that wasn't hers, and those violet eyes… they looked too alive, too knowing.
"Please…" she whispered. "If this is a dream, wake me up. If it's punishment, I've learned enough."
The book lay open on the window seat. Its pages fluttered though there was no wind.
One line glowed faintly, words shifting like they were breathing:
"Those who seek the world's secret cannot escape it."
Fiona's heart twisted.
"Then I'll find another way out."
At dawn, she stood atop the balcony of her tower chamber — the highest point of the castle. The cold air bit at her skin, and the violet in her eyes caught the rising sun, gleaming like fractured gems.
She took one step onto the railing, looking down at the endless sea of mist below.
"If I die here…" she murmured, "…maybe I'll wake up."
Her breath trembled. For a moment, she saw flashes — her real world, her old self, her family, the cliff where she first opened the book.
"I just want to go home."
And then — she jumped.
Wind tore through her hair. The world blurred into white light.
But just before she hit the ground, the air froze.
Time itself stopped.
She hung there in midair, suspended like a painting.
The voice from the book echoed around her, deeper now, almost sorrowful:
"You cannot leave, Wisteria. Not yet."
"Let me go!" she screamed.
"Not until you see."
The light consumed her — and when she opened her eyes again, she was back in her room.
The same bed. The same silver curtains. The same world.
Her body shook. Her hands trembled.
But there wasn't even a scratch.
The silver book sat calmly on her desk, its cover pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.
"You're not allowed to die," the voice whispered from within.
"The world hasn't finished showing you its truth."
Fiona stared at it, tears slipping down her cheeks.
"Then tell me the truth," she whispered.
"Tell me why I'm here."
But the pages only flipped once, and one sentence appeared in elegant silver letters:
"The villainess was never meant to die… because her death begins the end of the world."
Her heart pounded. The moon outside flickered — as if the world itself was listening.
Fiona realized then:
She wasn't just trapped in a story.
She was part of the reason it existed.
And if she ever wanted to return home…
she would have to uncover why the world feared her death so much.