Iliya's vision burned violently, fading into sparks of red and gray as the corset crunched her ribs together.

Tight.

So tight, her gasps warped into a sharp hiss.

As far as she could tell, the infernal device wrapping around her was designed more for torture than anything.

The very concept of this Ball had become just that. Torture. A celebration of unity to mask the announcements of bridges spanning from the heartline island to Solraidas and potentially Toskapel.

Another sharp pain loosened a groan from her lips, skin pinching beneath the metal and thick leather seams.

Iliya hadn't had time to consider the night before, how she'd gotten to bed, or the conversation she'd had with Sorein. There was too much to process and no space to do so.

He would Seal himself tonight, forever twenty four and she would live out her natural Therian lifespan.

She'd always wondered how different species inherited strange gifts. Unique to each house and line. Striping them down to their essence, the Fae were always to be immortal. Their very blood meant to fuse and freeze, granting them eternal strength and life.

Therian's oftentimes seemed like the bridge between Humans and Fae when it came to lifespan. They aged exponentially slower, more gracefully, with sharper minds the older they developed. Iliya knew she might even last an extra three hundred years just because of her Fae ancestors. She could well surpass the cusp of the Eldest, who now dwelled on Azuris in the City of the Lost.

At least she had a choice, unlike the most powerful of the Fae. There were stories of madness consuming those who waited too long or their lifeline fusing in their sleep when they couldn't control it.

Wild, untamed magic.

Iliya shuddered and for the first time it had nothing to do with the corset, her train of thought creating a cold sweat. That was, until another sharp pain had her hissing out breath.

The Priestess chuckled, tsking to herself. "That was the last one," she said.

"I can take over from here," a voice chimed in from the doorway. Siofra strode through the room with her usual confidence, coming to stand beside Iliya and giving a critical once over. The sympathetic smile on her face said it all. "Can you breathe in that?" she asked.

Iliya tried to exhale, mostly failing.

The Priestess nodded and excused herself, leaving them alone in the strange, uncomfortable silence between them.

They hadn't spoken in what felt like a few days now.

Iliya swallowed back the weird tension and forced her eyes from the ground, meeting Siofra's blue gaze. She would be the most comfortably dressed, in black slacks and a lovely lace blouse the color of morning dew.

The pale blue reflected the marbled swirls of light frozen in her eyes.

"I've been looking for you everywhere," she began, shifting on her feet. "I need to talk to you..."

"Clearly not everywhere," Iliya replied, laughing softly. "Lest you might've found me."

Siofra shook her head, the humor trying and failing to penetrate the steely barrier she had put around herself.

She hadn't seen her friend so serious in years, barely even remembering the last time the light hadn't reached her eyes.

Perhaps this was the Siofra other people saw, the reason people were always so astonished Iliya called her a friend. Harsh, analytical, cold. She didn't like it one bit.

"This is serious," she said, taking a deep breath. Self soothing, Iliya realized. Bracing herself. "I don't think you should attend the Final Ceremony."

Iliya blinked. "What?"

"I don't think you should att-"

"I heard you, I heard you, but why?"

Siofra stalked around to the strings on Iliya's back and started tugging at them, absently attempting to make room for her breathing. She untied the strings and gave her some slack.

The half an inch helping Iliya, allowing her to sag in place.

Still the Guard avoided answering, her eyes growing darker. "I can't say, but please..." her voice broke. "Please don't go. It's not safe."

"You can't expect me to stay up here with no information," Iliya retorted. "You need to give me more than that."

"Can't you just trust my gut?" Siofra asked. "Just this once, I'm asking you to listen to me.

Something clicked in her mind and Iliya narrowed her eyes. "This has something to do with what you told my mother."

Her friend couldn't look away fast enough, pivoting to face the balcony she'd flown through with wide eyes. "No."

"Yes. It does. You're going to tell me. Now."

"I can't."

"Can't or won't?" Iliya snapped.

"Can't as in I cannot. I've been sworn - quite literally - to secrecy. This is bigger than you, Iliya. I wasn't even supposed to interfere this much."

Her habit for hateful words bunched up on her tongue, coiling into an iron ball in her throat. Iliya felt the burn of the bile and the twist of anger and for once she simply sighed.

No, she wouldn't become that person again.

Iliya never wanted to say such horrible, spiteful things to anyone again.

"So be it," she muttered. Fight it. Fight it. Fight it. "You risk telling me this and I am grateful, but someone I care about is going to be Sealing himself tonight and I will be there for him."

"You don't understand-"

She couldn't hear anymore of this. "Thank you for warning me," Iliya interrupted her. "But I will do with this information as I see fit."

Siofra scoffed, staring at her with a fierceness Iliya didn't recognize. "What has gotten into you? You've never cared about any of this before, Illie. You never want to leave and the one time I ask you to stay here, stay safe you just..."

Iliya frowned, the simmering rage turning into a cold pool of sadness in her gut. "I've never cared? Sio, I've always cared. But I am so tired of hiding, I'm even more tired of pretending... Maybe I've done such a good job that you couldn't even see it."

She didn't mean to inflict the pain etching itself into Siofra's face. These weren't words of anger, only the truth.

Iliya watched her try to speak, but air was all that escaped her.

"Thank you," Iliya said again, holding firm. She gestured to the door. "I'll see you at the Ceremony."

The words felt like acid, her firm dismissal was polite while perhaps still the coldest she'd ever spoken to Siofra.

Her friend stared at her as if she were a stranger, blinking and taking a hesitant step backwards. Once. Twice. Then, like a mechanical doll, she forced herself to turn and head for the door. She made it to the doorway before pausing.

Siofra looked back, the hurt carving a chunk out of Iliya's chest. Then she disappeared.

Leaving Iliya alone with her thoughts once again.

~ 🔮 ~

The polished wooden staircase curled to the floor, sweeping over one of the corridors and landing gracefully into the decorated ballroom. Small floating lanterns illuminated the dim space, echoing the light from a crystal chandelier above.

Iliya's hand braced on the railing, gripping it tight as her eyes landed on the sweeping expanse of floor in the center of the room, then towards the chamber in the back.

Just behind an ebony railing, the Aphyre glistened in the lamplight.

The beautiful, smokey obsidian swirled with otherworldly power, masking a translucent wall of enchantments for one to step through.

The Chamber Sorein would enter to Seal himself.

She didn't know if it was the hundreds of people filing in from the main entrance or the thought of him entering the Aphyre that locked her breath up tight in her chest. Her eyes wrenched away from her white knuckles, watching as clusters of people rounded the dancefloor, each in their own ornate attire waiting for the music to begin.

Iliya felt her heart begin to thunder in her chest, pounding against the tight confines of her corset. Strips of black leather and lace accenting the antique coral fabric. One skirt dipped just past her knees, another sheer lace pouring over it to pool before her feet.

Feet that she couldn't make move no matter how hard she lifted and heaved.

"Nervous?" A voice chuckled behind her, soft and familiar.

Iliya jumped, swatting hard enough into Rhydian's shoulder that he rocked back a single step.

"Sorry." He held up his hands defensively. "I didn't mean to startle you. Will you allow me the honor?"

Her cousin shifted his elbow out for her to take.

Rhydian was indeed dressed to the nines, his black dress coat sweeping open to a formal white dress shirt and slacks. No tie to be seen, though his chaotic brown hair was slicked back.

Iliya smiled at the attempt.

"I'm surprised you're not already stalking Lady Elosea for the evening," she teased, looping her hand through his arm.

She'd never understood why her cousin hadn't staked his claim over the young woman. Most gave her a wide berth, speaking to her minimally. Her aura was so haunted with grief Iliya was inclined to follow suit.

His hazel stare darkened. "It's not that simple," he murmured, casting a glance to the edge of the room. Sure enough, she stood there in a gown of glittering copper.

Rhydian looked pained as she squeezed him. A silent inquiry.

"Her betrothed died in the same attack as her parents," Rhydian said, leaning closer to Iliya's right ear as they descended the stairs. "Too much has been taken from her... When she decides she's ready, she might very well reciprocate my advances, but I won't ever impose myself on another."

Iliya hummed her approval, nodding. She loved his mentality, his compassion. Despite how often they were hidden from the world.

At a loss for words, she offered him a reassuring smile. Rhydian returned it, broader than before.

As they reached the final step, a soft melody began playing on the piano forte across the gala floor.

The hushed whispers around the room turned into excited chatter, partners pairing off and preparing for the first dance.

She felt so out of place.

The sensation spread from her cheeks down to her neck and back as more and more eyes landed on her. Other murmurs began to spread and Iliya felt the cold sweat threatening to moisten her gown.

Silence enveloped her even as none fell. Iliya glanced across the room, eyes locking on a tall figure in a gray suit on the dias. His black dress shirt accented the matching tie.

Yet nothing prepared Iliya for those silver eyes staring right back at her.

The smile lining those irises slowly spread on Sorein's lips.

In one fluid motion he stepped off the landing and strode across the floor with his casual grace.

Sorein offered her his hand, bowing. Low. As if he, too, heard the whispers and thought of the most spiteful way to end them all.

Iliya saw those eyes dancing with mischief and subtle joy, emotions missing from them for so long, and braced herself.

She accepted his hand, offering a strained courtesy in her gown. Smiling.

It was the only permission needed as Sorein whisked her back out to the open floor. Alone.

As if on cue, the music began immediately after.