Pecola's Pov:
I lay still in the oversized bed, listening. No birds. No bugs. Just quiet — the kind you could press a hand into and leave a dent.
And breathing.
Antic's breathing.
Loud. Unapologetic. Shallow like he didn't trust the air to be real.
He made a weird snort sound.
I turned my head toward the noise.
"Still sleeping," Dolly muttered from the other side of the room. "Or pretending to. Can't tell with that one. Might be dreaming about licking your knees."
"…Why would he—?"
"Metaphor," she snapped. "Try to keep up, blind bat."
I sat up slowly. My hair stuck to my face — I hadn't braided it last night. It felt like a tangle of thread and thorns down my back. My dress — same one I always wore — was wrinkled, damp with sleep, like it had tried to escape my body overnight but given up halfway.
"I don't think he dreams about my knees," I said flatly.
Dolly huffed. "Please. He dreams about everything on you. Probably even your ankles. Bet he's got a foot kink."
"That sounds like a medical condition."
Dolly groaned. "You make flirting feel like homework."
I climbed out of the bed, bare feet meeting cold marble. The room echoed every step, but I moved slowly, measuring each one. I found the basin where warm water sat waiting — some magic, no doubt, some spell or system I couldn't see. I washed my face with shaking fingers. I wasn't cold.
I just didn't know what day it was. Not here. Not anywhere.
From the corner, Antic stirred. Mumbled something into his pillow.
"…ngh… knees…"
Dolly erupted into quiet laughter.
I turned back toward them. "He's… not joking?"
She snorted. "Oh no, he's dead serious. Unfortunately."
I sat down on the edge of my bed. The silence returned, this time with its mouth closed. It wasn't awkward. It was just… unfilled. Like a canvas before the first brushstroke.
Grin, from the corner where he stood all night like some melancholy statue, finally moved.
"...Breakfast...soon," he said, slow as ever. "...Queen...wishes...to...see...you."
I didn't answer.
Instead, I asked, "Do you ever sleep?"
He paused. Then: "...Not...really."
"Do you eat?"
"...Not...often."
I tilted my head toward his voice. "Then what do you do?"
"...Wait."
For what?
I didn't ask. I just nodded. Even if he couldn't see it.
Dolly yawned theatrically. "Well. Nothing like starting the day with cryptic undead breakfast announcements. Get dressed, darlings. Let's see if royal food tastes as rich as it pretends to be."
The hallway smelled like sugar.
Not real sugar. Magic sugar. Burnt at the edges, like someone had baked joy and left it too long in the oven.
I walked behind Dolly. She moved like a queen no one had voted for — hips swinging, tiny porcelain shoes clacking against marble. Antic trailed behind, mumbling half-formed commentary under his breath. His overalls were back in place — loosely, barely. His hair stuck up on one side like it had gotten into a fight with a pillow and lost.
"You smell like old fruit," Dolly sniffed at him without turning.
Antic scoffed. "It's apricot musk, thank you. Royal scent of seduction in three out of seven realms."
"You mean rotting seduction," she snapped back.
"Still seduction," he grinned.
I said nothing. I listened. Counted steps. The castle hummed with music I couldn't hear — only feel. It pulsed under the soles of my feet. Like the ground itself was alive.
Two guards in mirrored masks opened enormous crystal doors ahead. The dining hall exploded with color and gold.
I froze.
I'd never felt so many textures at once.
A table that stretched longer than time itself — set with teacups and pastries and bowls of glowing fruit. Chandeliers dripping with orbs of light instead of fire. Windows like stained-glass dreams. Walls that whispered faint names as I passed — names I couldn't catch fast enough to remember.
Queen Sentient sat at the head of the table.
She wore morning like it was silk — her robes fluttered even without wind, and her eyes shimmered in a way that made my breath feel like a lie. When she smiled, it didn't touch her mouth.
"Child of Ennui," she greeted me gently. "You've risen. And you've brought the dusk and dawn with you."
"I brought Dolly and Antic," I said.
The Queen laughed — real and amused.
"You have your father's clarity," she murmured. "And your mother's sharp tongue. A blade dulled by silence."
I didn't know how to answer that. I didn't remember my parents. Not yet. But her voice scratched something old inside me.
We sat.
Antic immediately grabbed something round and purple and bit into it.
Then gagged.
"What—ghhhk—why does it taste like betrayal?" he wheezed.
"It's a Mood Fruit," Dolly said, daintily sipping something pink and steamy. "Takes on the flavor of your strongest memory."
Antic paled. "Oh. Right. That explains… my third grade piano recital."
Dolly smirked, all lipstick and teeth.
I reached for something that smelled like warm bread. My fingers brushed the edge of the plate. I tried to imagine what it looked like. Tried not to imagine anything at all.
Queen Sentient studied me.
"You slept well?"
"Yes," I said, though I wasn't sure.
"And the dreams?"
I stilled.
Antic looked up from licking jam off his wrist. "Dreams? What dreams?"
The Queen's eyes flicked toward him. "Those not meant for you, Wild One."
He raised both hands. "Just sayin'. I've got nosebleeds when she so much as breathes emotionally, so maybe I should be included."
"You dream in memory, Pecola Ennui," the Queen said softly. "Even when you do not know what memory is."
"I don't remember anything," I replied flatly.
"You will."
I chewed slowly. The bread was sweet. It reminded me of something. A woman's hands. Warmth. Cinnamon.
"Ami," I said aloud, before I knew I was going to.
Antic dropped his spoon.
The Queen only nodded, like she already knew.
The scent in the room changed again — from fruit and sugar to something older. Wet stone. Ash. Smoke that never burned.
The doors creaked open.
Then paused halfway.
Someone large tried to squeeze through a bit too sideways.
A grunt. A curse. Then the sound of thick robes catching on something sharp.
Antic leaned across the table and whispered, "Incoming drama boy, seven o'clock."
I turned. Slowly. Just in time to hear the doors boom wide open like they were insulted.
Grin stood in the entryway, hunched, robe drenched in morning dew, one hand clamped awkwardly over a rip in the hem.
His smile — the permanent one — looked more like it was carved into him than chosen.
"...I...apologize..." he said, voice as slow and rough as a broken cello string. "...I...was not told...there would be...breakfast..."
Dolly Interrupted '' Good riddance you literally were the one to call us for breakfast!? Make that make sense...''
Queen Sentient gracefully lifted her teacup. "There's always breakfast here, Reaper."
Grin stiffened, like the word still burned.
Antic smirked. "You clean up nice. Did someone finally wrestle you into a bucket of soap?"
Grin blinked at him.
Then blinked again. Slower. Longer.
"…You...are...still talking…"
Antic raised both hands in mock surrender. "And you're still in slo-mo. We all have our curses."
Dolly leaned her chin into one palm. "Gentlemen," she said like it was a disease. "If we could get through one meal without blood or posturing, I might actually digest this peach."
Grin shuffled forward, one stiff step at a time. His boots made almost no sound on the jeweled floor. It was like the shadows followed just behind his heels, trying not to trip him.
When he reached the table, he didn't sit.
He stood. And stared at me.
No, not me.
The space around me.
"...You...woke the floor..." he said slowly, looking at my feet.
"The floor?" I echoed.
He nodded. Once. With weight.
"...She listens...when you walk...This castle only does that...for the chosen."
Antic let out a long, theatrical groan. "There it is. The chosen one prophecy dump. We've officially hit that chapter arc."
"I'm not chosen," I said.
"...Not yet..." Grin replied.
He finally sat. Carefully. His every movement deliberate, like he didn't trust the chair not to vanish.
The silence around him made my skin hum. Not cold. Not hot. Just... pulled taut.
He reached for a cup of something dark and purple, sniffed it, then returned it untouched.
Antic watched him for a second too long.
"I don't get you, man," he muttered. "You talk like a dead tree monologues. You make people nervous. You don't even eat. And yet somehow girls think you're mysterious."
Grin's head tilted.
"...And yet...you are the one...with a bleeding nose...every time...she breathes..."
Antic flushed.
Dolly actually cackled into her tea.
Grin looked back at me. Something heavy flickered behind those eyes — the kind of sadness that didn't come from loss, but from watching too much loss happen.
"...I'm glad...you're here..." he said. "You...make the forest...stop screaming...for a while."
My throat caught. I didn't know what to say.
So I just nodded.
We all ate — or pretended to — in a quiet, twitchy sort of peace.
The Queen spoke again, but her voice felt like it came from far away.
"The Soul Keeper has sent word. Training begins this evening."
"Training?" I asked.
"For what comes next."
Antic coughed. "I vote we take a nap first."
Dolly narrowed her eyes. "You vote nothing, apricot boy."
But I was already listening to the castle again. The hum beneath my feet had shifted.
It wasn't just music anymore.
It was a heartbeat.
And it was waiting for something.