"Ah. You must be Periwinkle, the 77th Ennéa. Nice to meet you. I am Avasteris Abrivers. What's your real name?"
My brain blanked.
Phaser had just complimented me and now I was standing here, cornered by someone who looked like she walked out of a divine painting. Her voice was mature with that slow, graceful enunciation that only people with way too much experience (and money) could master. And those eyes… damn those Abrivers eyes.
"Permonelle," I said, trying not to sound like I was choking on my own tongue. "Just Permonelle."
"Ah, I figured. 'Periwinkle' does not seem like your flavor."
She leaned against the balcony, the way only people who didn't care about anything leaned. She looked effortless, elegant, like she was born draped in silk and consequence.
"You are new. It is so obvious."
I exhaled through my nose, gripping the railing.
"That obvious, huh?"
"Not to worry. You are not the first to be overwhelmed by all of this. But you might be the most interesting."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I cannot read you," she said, almost too casually. "Even with my Flux. That is impressive. And frustrating."
Oh. Right. That thing Gamma told me about. Her Flux prevents others from reading secrets. Mental privacy mode cranked to max.
"Well," I muttered, trying to deflect, "I guess it's a win for my anxiety."
Avasteris laughed. She studied me for a moment longer, then looked back at the city.
"You know… you are just a guest here. That means, technically, you do not owe anyone your time or presence."
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," she turned her head slightly, "that this whole gala, this hotel, this entire event, is the playground of the top one percent of the top one percent. These halls are designed to flatter, deceive, and cater to elites. The Marimus Faction rented out this whole six-star hotel for the week. People pay millions to stay one night here. Millions."
My stomach dropped. She wasn't exaggerating. Not even a little.
This wasn't just opulent. This was a scale of wealth I couldn't begin to wrap my head around. I'd known the Abrivers were important. Feared, even. But I didn't know they were this wealthy.
And I was… what? A guest? A tagalong on Dryad's plus-one ticket? I swallowed hard.
"Why tell me this?"
Avasteris tilted her head.
"Because you are walking around like someone who is unsure if she belongs. Let me make it clear, little spider. Guests here are rare. You are here because someone powerful wanted you here. That makes you valuable, even if you do not realize it yet."
I stared at her.
She meant that. And I didn't know how to respond, so I just nodded and looked away, suddenly feeling small in the shadow of someone who probably made interdimensional treaties before breakfast.
"…Thanks," I finally said, quieter than I meant.
She smiled. Then she looked back at the gala, eyes scanning the crowd through the open doors.
"Careful, though. Not everyone in this room wants you to feel like you belong. Some people do not like uninvited chess pieces on their board."
I nodded again, slower this time.
Noted.
Stay sharp. Stay silent. And never forget I was in a room full of monsters in designer suits. And I still had no idea what game they were playing.
Avasteris didn't ask. She guided. One minute I was catching my breath on the balcony, the next I was gliding across the gala floor on the arm of a goddess in human form.
"Come," she said, smiling with that disarming confidence only rich, powerful women ever had. "Let me introduce you to a few people."
And I couldn't exactly say no, not when she looked like she'd just waltzed out of a famous photoshoot and smiled like she had won the war before anyone else knew it started.
She led me to a small circle of mature women, all dressed in tailored gowns that screamed elegance and old money. They were sipping from diamond-cut glasses and talking like the world belonged to them—which, to be real, it probably did. As soon as Avasteris approached, their conversation halted like someone had snapped their fingers.
"Oh! Lady Avasteris," one of them said with a breathy reverence. Not just excitement but respect, like they'd just been graced by royalty.
The other women mirrored her expression. I picked up on it instantly: the subtle tension in their spines, the way their eyes darted toward her with carefully controlled admiration. This wasn't just a friend group. This was a circle of elites. And Avasteris? She was the sun they orbited.
"Ladies, this is Permonelle, the 77th Ennéa. A guest of the Abrivers... my guest, actually."
That little emphasis hit harder than it should have.
The way they looked at me shifted. One of the women leaned in slightly, a silver-haired beauty with skin like sun-kissed bronze.
"Lady Avasteris doesn't bring just anyone around. Welcome, dear."
I nodded and gave a soft "thank you," though it came out a little awkward. I wasn't used to being in rooms where people's earrings probably cost thrice as more than my entire apartment back in Singapore.
As Avasteris continued introducing me—dropping my name and title like she was flexing her own—there was something weirdly comforting about it. Not in the bragging way. She wasn't showing me off to impress them. She was doing it to anchor me and to remind me that I belonged here, even if I didn't feel like it yet.
Why are all Abrivers like that?
Dryad's voice flickered in my head suddenly, smooth and nonchalant.
You can trust her. She's alright. No weird vibes.
Okay, I thought back, hoping she caught it. Still. She feels like she's hiding something.
And it was true. Avasteris carried herself like someone used to playing a role. But there was something in her eyes, beneath the polished grace. I didn't know what it was, but I felt it.
Still, I began to relax. Around her, it was easier. The way she handled conversations with her friends, cracked occasional jokes, dropped casual comments about Flux mechanics or transitions like she was reciting the weather, it made me feel a little less like a lost tourist and more like… well, someone who might fit in here, someday.
At one point, as she was laughing with a tall woman in a pearlescent gown, I caught myself staring.
Was she a Suprema?
No way. Supremas were supposed to be cold, calculating, too busy being deities to hold drinks and gossip with other high society dames. But everyone treated her with that level of reverence. She was important. Really important.
I didn't ask though because honestly? I wasn't sure I wanted to know just yet.
Not when I was still trying to understand how I ended up walking through the highest echelon of two worlds like I hadn't spent my entire life underground, literally and metaphorically.
Still, as Avasteris handed me a drink (non-alcoholic, surprisingly thoughtful), and the circle of elegant elites welcomed me with quiet nods, I felt relaxed.
The lights in the gala hall dimmed softly, like twilight descending over a field of stars. Conversations tapered off. Music faded. And then, as if on cue, a woman stepped onto the stage, draped in silver, her presence striking even in a room filled with powerful people. She didn't need to raise her voice. It carried anyway, wrapped in something subtle and commanding.
"Distinguished guests, welcome to the Tenth Concord Discussion."
A polite wave of applause moved through the crowd. I stood still, hands clasped in front of me, trying to seem like I belonged here.
"It has been ten years since the First Thauma, the moment Erae's existence was unveiled to the world. And forty-five days since the Second, when the heavens split and the new began to rise."
I swallowed. That second one… I'd lived through it. The chaos still crawled in the dark corners of my mind.
"The Concord exists to prevent war. To create peace. Seven to nine days will be used to forge bonds, to test loyalties, to determine if this world can hold together under the weight of its own magic."
The speech ended to thunderous applause, a renewed energy rolling through the crowd like a second wind. I stayed frozen, though, still processing every word. Seven to nine days. That's how long we would all be stuck in this rich glass cage together. Surrounded by luxury, by politics, by danger dressed in diamonds.
Soon after, attendants began gliding around the floor, offering to escort guests to their rooms. I was already half-turning toward Dryad when I felt someone step beside me.
"I have already told them you will be staying in my room tonight," Avasteris said smoothly, voice like soft wine.
My eyes widened. "Wait—what? I thought I had my own room—"
Don't resist.
Dryad's voice slid into my head before I could finish my sentence.
It's safer this way.
I looked at her—across the ballroom now—watching me with those knowing, no-nonsense eyes.
I sighed. "Fine. Just for tonight."
Avasteris smiled like she already knew I'd say yes, then turned and began leading me toward the elevators. And honestly, I didn't mind. Her suite was bigger than most mansions I'd seen. Polished floors, massive ceilings and a view of the capital lights that made my chest feel too small.
We talked a little more and laughed at something I barely remember now. Eventually, she said goodnight and disappeared into one of the other rooms, leaving me in the guest chamber with a bed too soft to trust.
I lay there for a while, eyes open, staring. I was exhausted but something in me wouldn't relax. Some instinct deep in my gut had been twisting since the gala. Something off.
But eventually… I drifted to sleep.
When I woke up, it was to pounding fists on the door and shouts echoing from the hallway. I scrambled up, heart already racing. When I opened the door, a guard stood there, eyes cold and sharp.
"Stay inside," he said. "There's been an incident."
"What kind of incident?"
He didn't answer.
It wasn't until minutes later, after Dryad finally reached out to me again, that I learned the truth. My original room—the one I had been assigned to before Avasteris took me in—had been attacked during the night. Someone had snuck in, masked in Flux, and killed the occupant in their sleep, and burned the body to the bone.
And that's when it hit me like ice water down my spine.
That was supposed to be me.