An invitation arrived at dawn.
The envelope was black, sealed with silver wax bearing the emblem of House Caelthorne—a noble family rooted in the old parts of Aetheris, known for their lavish affairs and veiled threats. Inside, the card was etched with violet ink, perfumed just faintly with nightbloom.
You are cordially invited to the Midwinter Requiem—A Dance of Light and Legacy. Attire formal. Attendance… expected.
Evelyn turned the card in her hands, pulse steady, but not slow.
It wasn't a threat.
But it wasn't far from one either.
The city beneath the Academy was nothing like its towers and arches above.
The lower levels of Aetheris were carved into ancient rock, lit by floating crystal lanterns and paved in stone so smooth it glowed faintly underfoot. As Evelyn stepped into the banquet hall—arm linked with Caelan's for appearance's sake—every head turned.
She was no longer just a student.
She was a statement.
"You're the most dangerous person in the room right now," Caelan whispered beside her, voice rich with admiration and something sharper. "I hope you know that."
Evelyn didn't reply.
Because across the room, cloaked in shadow and dressed in black tailored with silver trim, Alexander Valerius stood beside a marble pillar—alone, but never unnoticed.
Their eyes locked.
And the rest of the room faded.
Later, as the music swelled and masks hid the faces of the elite, Evelyn found herself spinning through the crowd, caught in the current of ritual and expectation.
Caelan guided her effortlessly through one dance. Another noble took the next. She smiled when she had to. She listened when required.
But with every step, she felt the echo of something unfinished.
And when Alexander finally stepped forward, offering his hand in silence, the world stilled.
"I thought you weren't attending," she said quietly, placing her fingers in his.
"I wasn't," he replied, eyes never leaving hers. "Until I saw you walk in with him."
It wasn't jealousy. It was something older. Deeper.
Possession without claiming. Protection without permission.
They danced, unhurried, the room moving around them like a dream. But Evelyn knew the mask Alexander wore tonight wasn't made of silk or gold.
It was made of restraint.
And cracks were beginning to show.