"Ladies and gentlemen—singles, couples, and everyone in between—Kingstone, listen up!"
Kehlani Mortega's voice blasted through every speaker on campus.
"Prom. 27th. Find a partner before it's too late. This is Kehlani, Kingstone Media House. Stay fabulous."
Prom.
Great.
I'd planned to show up, look alive, vanish by midnight.
Now it was three weeks away.
I scrolled Instagram for her—the girl from the dream, the girl who froze my blood.
Nothing. No trace.
Fine. Armor research first. Library second. Sanity optional.
The grand doors creaked open.
"Sorry, Mike," the librarian said, eyebrow arched. "Card expired. Read here or nowhere."
"Northwest wing. Arcane Records. Nuclear physics?" I asked.
She pointed like a queen dismissing a peasant.
Fifteen minutes of wandering later, I gave up.
My feet carried me to the fantasy section—dim, dusty, cold as a tomb.
Air dropped ten degrees.
Skin prickled.
And there she was.
Hood up. Mask on.
But those eyes—emerald fire bleeding through the shadows.
I froze.
Grabbed a random book to look busy.
THE CURSE OF THE EMERALD
The illustration inside?
Exactly the girl in my arms in the dream.
She'd fallen asleep on her books.
Goosebumps. Pale. Breath shallow.
Something was wrong.
THE LEGEND – CONDENSED
Centuries ago, King Aries of Vealanda craved power beyond flesh.
Dined with demons.
Banned God.
Built an empire on blood and gold.
But he wanted invincibility.
A monk warned: "You broke the vow."
Aries laughed. "Then Satan will do."
Ritual. Storm.
The Devil arrived—wings like midnight, eyes like hellfire.
"Give me your crown. And a virgin girl."
They dragged a hundred firstborn daughters.
The Devil pointed into shadow.
Ashly.
Daughter of the prophet.
Eyes glowing like emerald stars.
My phone buzzed.
Emily:
Where are you? JK—the project.
4:30 PM.
I'd been reading for three hours.
I turned.
The girl still slept—colder now.
I draped my jacket over her.
Checked her pulse. Steady. Just freezing.
Thumbprint scan on my watch?
Zero online presence.
Her diary—open.
No name.
Just symbols—ancient, glowing faintly under the page.
I snapped photos.
She stirred.
Panic.
I shoved the book in my bag. Bolted.
Thump.
My jacket flew through the air, landed at my feet.
Thrown.
A note pinned to it.
I pocketed it. Peeked back.
She was gone.
At the exit:
"Mike." The librarian's voice—soft now. "Why did you…?"
I pulled the book out. "I can explain—"
"Keep it." She smiled. "Return next week."
I blinked.
"Of everyone who passed her," she whispered, "only you showed love without price."
"You saw?"
"Everything." Her eyes twinkled. "That girl needs you."
"Why didn't you stop me?"
"Because you approached with a pure heart."
"And the pictures?"
"All of it." She leaned in. "I've read that book. I know how it ends."
"How?"
"With you. The two of you are—"
She stopped. Smiled like she knew the future.
"What do I call you?"
"Rose. Rose J. Ashly."
The name hit like a bullet.
Outside—snow fell.
Thunder cracked the sky.
Phone buzzed.
Emily:
Are you coming or not?
Me:
Caught in the storm.
Then—unknown number.
All digits the same: 666-666-6666
ANSWER – DECLINE
I stared.
The screen went black.
Meanwhile…
T-X Industry – Rodrick Corp HQ
Agent, sweating:
"Sir, our work leaked online. One employee."
Executive:
"Video deleted?"
"Yes, sir. Servers rebooted. Gone."
"Then why are you shaking?"
Agent swallowed.
"It has… one view."