Ayla was running. She didn't remember why. Only that she was already moving breath uneven, footsteps blending into the screams and moans. Something was wrong. She knew it. The air felt wrong. Too thick, filled with the faint smell of something metallic.
A crash echoed from somewhere behind her. Followed by voices.
Not familiar ones. "Ayla—don't look back." Her mother's grip was tight as she pulled her down the narrow stairway. So tight, almost painful. "Mom, what—"
She pulled Ayla into a hidden room. "Hush." Her hand covered her mouth before she could finish. "Listen to me," her mother whispered, dropping to her level, eyes sharp—focused in a way that made Ayla's chest tighten.
"Whatever you hear, whatever happens—" A pause. "You do not come out."
"…But—"
"No." The word didn't need to be loud. It didn't need to be repeated.
Her mother's hand lingered briefly against her cheek. Warm. "Stay quiet," she said, softer now. "Just this once… do exactly as I say." Ayla hesitantly nodded.
A small smile appeared on her mother's face, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"Good girl." She turned. Closed the door. Then that uncomfortable silence. Ayla stayed where she was. She tried to.
Then— a sound. Not loud. Somehow muffled. Her hand moved before she could stop it. The door opened. Light spilled in. And everything fell apart.
A body. Stiff. Blood flowing like a river. Her mother. The world blurred.
Sound disappeared. Time stopped.
"No—" A hand grabbed her. Her father.
"Run." The imperial guards were already holding him."Take your siblings and go," he said, voice low and urgent.
"Don't look back." Not again.
Ayla's breath hitched. "Father, wait—please—"
He didn't look at her again. The world shifted. Blurred. She found herself drifting into darkness, then her eyes snapped open.
Silence. Her room. Her breath came unevenly as she tried to calm herself down. Hands clenched into the sheets.
The memory lingered. Her gaze shifted—
to the folded document resting where she left it. Her gaze was distant.
A knock broke the silence. "My lady?" Ayla didn't respond immediately.
The handle turned slightly. Makin entered quietly.
"It's time to get ready," she said softly. "The carriage will arrive soon."
Ayla closed her eyes briefly. Then exhaled. Today was the day of the ball. She sighed.
"…I'm awake." Of course she was. Makin didn't waste time. She moved like she had a schedule to beat.
"Up," she said, pulling the curtains open just enough to let the light in.
Ayla didn't move. "…My lady," Makin tried again, softer this time. "I heard you," Ayla muttered, pushing herself up slowly. Her head still felt heavy.
The memory clung to her like something that hadn't fully let go. Makin watched her for a moment. "You didn't sleep well again," she noted. Ayla let out a quiet breath. "Something like that." That was enough.
Makin didn't press further. "Then we don't have time to waste," she said, clapping her hands once. And just like that— everything started moving.
Water was brought in. Ball gowns layed out.
Jewelry selected. Ayla stood still as Makin worked.
"Arms up." She complied. Layers were removed. Replaced. Adjusted.
"Turn." She turned. "Hold still." It felt more like a preparation for war than a ball.
"…Is all this necessary?" Ayla muttered at some point, unable to bear it any longer.
"It's the Union Ball, Lady Ayla. Nobles from other kingdoms will be there," Makin replied simply. Of course, the Union Ball.
Ayla's gaze flickered briefly to the side— to where the folded document still rested. She sighed; clearly, she was not looking forward to tonight.
"Remove these." Ayla blinked. "My lady?" Makin gestured toward her glasses.
A pause. "…No," she said. Makin didn't react immediately. Just looked at her.
Then—
quietly:
"My lady, your father said you wouldn't need them tonight."
Father? That was a twist. "…Fine." She reached up. Removed them.
The world shifted slightly—blurry but still manageable. Makin stepped back for a moment. Studying her. Then nodded. "Better."
Ayla didn't respond. By the time they were done—
She felt different. The navy blue dress fit perfectly. A bit too perfect.
"Done," Makin said softly.
Ayla stepped forward slightly—
catching her reflection. Brown was held in an half up half down hairdo, her lilac eyes. Uncovered by her old frames. She felt exposed. "…Right," she murmured.
"Your family is waiting," Makin added. Ayla exhaled slowly. She stepped into the corridor. The difference was immediate.
Guards. Lining the walls like haunting portraits. Her steps slowed slightly.
Not enough to draw attention. Their eyes followed her. Barely trying to hide the fact that they were monitoring her. The same feeling crept up her spine again.
Watched. Always watched. Her fingers curled slightly at her side.
"Don't look back." Her father's panicked voice echoed in her ears. Ayla exhaled slowly before forcing her steps forward. By the time she reached the stairs, she had already composed herself.
The hall below was… louder.
Normal. Or at least— trying to be.
"…Why do you look like a squid?" Nathan asked, shaking his head in disappointment.
Ayla didn't miss a step. "Good evening to you too, my lovable brother."
Zane leaned forward slightly, squinting at her like she had personally offended him. "Nathan, don't disrespect squids like that."
Nathan didn't even bother hiding his expression. "You look ridiculous."
Ayla stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Slowly. "How amusing of you two," she said flatly.
"Glad we could entertain you," Zane added. Ayla stared at him. She forced down the urge to punch both her brothers; she couldn't risk creasing her dress.
"…You didn't wake up just to be annoying, did you?" Ayla asked, trying to be calm.
"I woke up to survive," he corrected. "This is just a bonus."
A faint sound, almost a gasp, came from Amelia.
"Both of you, stop." She stepped forward instead, adjusting a loose fold on Ayla's sleeve. "You look fine," she said softly.
Their father spoke next. "That's enough." Silence followed immediately.
Ayla looked at him. He hadn't slept. That much was obvious based on the dark circles under his eyes. But his posture was still straight.
"Are you ready?" he asked. Ayla held his gaze for a moment. "...Yes." The word felt heavier than it should have. "Then we leave," he said. No one argued.
As they moved, Ayla felt it again. That same presence. She couldn't pinpoint where exactly. Her gaze shifted slightly—
just for a second—
toward the corridor behind them. Then forward again. Outside, the carriage stood ready. Guards stationed. They stepped inside one by one. The doors shut.
The carriage lurched forward.
There was no turning back.