I sat on the edge of the bed for a long time.
Everything around me felt too soft. Too elegant. Too... not mine.
The silk sheets whispered beneath my fingers. The chandelier above twinkled like it belonged in a royal ballroom, not a bedroom. My room—if I could even call it that—looked like a page ripped from a fantasy novel. Velvet armchairs. A marble fireplace that flickered with warm light, though I hadn't seen anyone light it. No clocks. No windows. No phone.
No Maggie.
No Mom.
*What the hell is this place?*
I hugged myself tighter, trying to steady my breathing. The pendant around my neck—still there—pressed against my collarbone, cool and strangely comforting. Like it *knew* something I didn't. Like it was waiting for me to ask the right question.
I kept seeing his face.
The man from my dream.
From the ritual.
From this morning—if it *was* morning.
He had sat in the corner like a prince carved from shadow, watching me with eyes I couldn't explain. Eyes that didn't belong to anyone real. His voice still lingered in the corners of the room—deep, warm, and sharp all at once.
And the way he looked at me…
Not like a stranger.
Like something more.
A memory that hadn't happened yet.
My throat was dry. My thoughts refused to settle. I felt like I was floating just above my own skin.
"I have to get out of here."
My bare feet touched the floor. Cold marble met skin. I moved slowly, cautiously, crossing the wide room to the tall door near the fireplace. I didn't know what to expect—armed guards, chains, a bolt. But the doorknob turned easily in my hand.
The hallway beyond took my breath away.
It wasn't just a hallway—it was a corridor of dreams.
High ceilings, arching like cathedral bones. Golden sconces lit the space with soft amber light, casting shadows on tall windows draped in silver-blue velvet. A grand staircase curved downward like something out of a palace, spiraling into a lower floor I couldn't yet see.
And people. Seven or eight, maybe more. Moving silently down below—men and women dressed in shades of black and gray, as elegant as shadows, their faces calm, unreadable.
None of them looked surprised to see me.
But I—
I felt like I'd stepped into another world.
My breath caught as I touched the banister. Even the wood felt warm, polished, ancient. My fingers brushed it—and something strange happened.
The lights above flickered.
Just for a second.
I snatched my hand back.
*Did I imagine that?*
I looked around. No one else reacted. But I felt something stir inside me. Like static. Like pressure beneath my skin. Like a storm trying to remember itself.
I wasn't sure why, but I pressed my palm to the banister again—just to test it.
The chandelier above pulsed.
Once. Brightly.
I pulled away, heart pounding. *What the hell was that?*
I didn't have time to ask myself again.
Because from down the corridor, I heard the soft sound of footsteps.
Deliberate.
Unhurried.
A woman appeared, rounding the corner with the grace of a queen.
She looked young—early twenties, maybe—but carried herself like royalty. Tall, elegant, dressed in black silk that shimmered like water. Her silver hair was twisted into a regal knot, her heels echoed softly as she walked, and her gaze landed on me with the force of command.
Not unkind. But sharp. Measuring.
She stopped a few paces away, her lips curving slightly.
"You must be Halia."
I blinked. "How do you know my name?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she stepped closer and studied me the way a jeweler might examine a rare gem.
"I wondered what kind of girl he would choose," she murmured, mostly to herself. "I imagined someone louder. Softer. But… no. You'll do."
I stiffened. "Who are you?"
Her smile deepened, though it didn't reach her eyes. "You may call me Selora. You're safe here, Halia. That's all you need to know—for now."
*Safe.*
The word hit something deep in my chest. I wanted to believe it. I wanted to fall into it and disappear.
But something in her tone said otherwise. Like she knew things I didn't. Like *everyone* here knew things I didn't.
My voice came out quieter than I intended. "Where *am* I?"
Selora glanced toward the grand staircase. "A place between. Not quite yours. Not quite ours."
Cryptic. Perfect.
"You were taken," she continued smoothly, "because my son claimed you."
Wait—*what*?
*Did she just say her son?* She looked far too young to be the mother of *that* man.
As if reading my mind, Selora offered a knowing smile. "I know it's hard to believe he's my son. But he is. And you can't change that."
"What's his name?" I asked, swallowing hard.
Her eyes sparkled. "He's not someone you name easily, girl. Not someone you forget, either."
No answers. Only riddles.
I turned away, shaking my head, but I had nowhere to go. No idea where I was. No idea who I could trust.
Selora gestured toward the grand staircase. "You may explore, if you wish. But know this—you're watched. And protected. And can't escape this place.Don't mistake the three."
With that, she turned and disappeared down another hallway, heels clicking against the marble floor.
I stood there, trembling.
Everything in me screamed to panic. To scream. To fight.
But something else—stranger—kept me grounded.
A warmth beneath my skin. A pulse in my palms.
That flicker of light when I touched the railing.
*Like something inside me is waking up.*
*What are you?* I thought, staring down at my hands.
And for the briefest second, I swore I saw a soft shimmer ripple across my skin.
Like moonlight.
Like magic.
Then it was gone.
Just like everything I thought I understood.