When I opened my eyes, I wasn't anywhere... real.
The air felt thick, like breathing through wax.
Bookshelves spiraled into the dark above me — endless, towering, ancient. The floor gleamed like polished glass, a circular library.
Silent. Too silent.
"Well," I muttered, rubbing my arms, "this isn't ominous at all."
An empty table sat in the center with two chairs and a single lamp suspended midair, glowing faintly gold.
I approached, slippers slapping the floor—then plopped into a seat.
"So is this it? Where I meet my maker?" I asked the air I breathed.
Silence.
No booming voice, no mysterious old man in a cloak, no glowing woman with wings.
"Not very impressed," I said flatly. "I expected at least some harps. Or at least more--white."
After another minute of cosmic ghosting, I sighed, stood, and announced, "Alright, whoever's running this dream-space, I want out!" somehow, I knew I wasn't alone here...I felt a presence...or something.
"You hearing me?, I want-"
Somewhere behind me, a lock clicked.
I spun around. A door had appeared — tall, blindingly bright, the kind that made you squint your eyes just looking at it.
"Oh. Very convenient."
I hesitated, muttering, "Next time, turn on a bulb or something. I'm dreadfully afraid of the dark, thanks."
And with that, I stepped through.
.><><><.
I woke up, to the sound of my bedroom door crashing open.
"Iris dear! Are you up yet?"
I groaned, dragging the sheets over my head. "I am now…"
Mother swept in like a spring breeze — bright, soft, and unreasonably energetic for dawn.
"Why, it is a good morning indeed!" she beamed.
{No It'snot.}
This family had a collective allergy to sleeping in. Especially Mother.
"I doubt there's anything I can do for you this early," I mumbled, sitting up. "So why are you here?"
"Why are you always so hostile in the morning?" she sighed.
{It's because I'm not awake yet. A badhabit really.}
"Well, you'll refuse, but you have no choice in this."
{That's never a goodthing.}
"Madame Claire's coming to take your measurements."
My brow twitched. "Why?"
"For the memorial, of course."
I dropped backward onto my bed. "Send her back. I have plenty of untouched gowns."
"But dear, this is your first time attending an imperial event, coming out to society after so many years!"
"No, Mother. I'm not changing my mind."
A long pause. Then a gentle pat over the sheets.
"Okay."
Door closes.
"Coming out to society," I muttered into my pillow. "Has it really been that long? "
.><><><.
The next few days flew by in a flash, and the ceremonial day, arrived .standing before a mirror, I questioned every decision I have ever made up to this point of my life.
"Who murdered my self-respect and called it fashion?."
Mother's gown was graceful — somber black silk, modest and dignified. Perfect for the occasion.
And mine was… not.
Midnight fabric embroidered in gold thread, layered lace, gemstones scattered like confetti, and enough sparkle to blind the entire noble assembly.
"Like a pretty fairy," Mother had said.
{Yes, a fairy in debt.}
Emily, my maid stylist-turned-saboteur, had attacked my hair with pins, combs, and shimmering nonsense until I could barely tilt my head.
"It completes the look, my lady!" she chirped.
{If her vision board looked like an expensive mistake, then yes, she nailedit.}
The real culprit though? Mother.
Apparently, I didn't own a single proper black gown — "they're all too gloomy for a girl your age," she'd once said — so she'd helpfully chosen this glittering death trap instead. A "mourning outfit with life," she called it.
I called it "I look like a chandelier that rolled over treasure" I muttered.
Mother just smiled serenely. "You'll thank me later."
{ I truly doubt it.}
.><><><.
"We gather here today to honor the lives of two beloved souls…"
The Dowager Princess's voice carried through the grand hall — honey-sweet and tragically insincere. She looked the part of grief perfectly: trembling voice, perfect tears that didn't quite fall.
Even though Mother and I had left the house early, somehow we were still late.
My heart still thudded from the rush.
{Ormaybe from the heels. Seriously, who invented these torture vices? I'm still justthirteen.}
The hall itself was beautiful in a way that made me feel small, it didn't look too different from the one back home — marble pillars draped in black banners, the imperial crest carved above the altar, black lilies perfuming the air with quiet sorrow.
{Maybe it's the people, this atmosphere is suffocating}
The Dowager Princess, younger sister to the late Emperor, now acting as guardian to the orphaned Crown Prince. She tried her best, but according to the book… she was a better dictator than a parent.
Mother stood beside me, serene and respectful. I glanced at her profile — gentle, beautiful, the very picture of a noblewoman.
The kind who gave everything for others.
The kind who smiled through exhaustion.
The kind who, honestly, was a little naively stupid at times.
Like a heroine from one of those romantic novels who believed kindness alone could fix the world.
I smiled faintly. {Maybe, just maybe... I'm actually luckier than I thought.}
The speech droned on, an obviously rehearsed poetic eulogy, almost theatrical.
Laughter rippled through the already stuffy hall of perfume,— something about a fond memory in the speech — snapping me out of my thoughts.
By the time the crowd began offering condolences, my feet were already begging for mercy.
"My, the young lady grows with such grace and beauty," a duchess cooed.
"Yes, I birthed her after all," Mother said with a sweet laugh.
I stood there, smiling stiffly. {Killme now.}
Then Mother spotted someone across the room — "Ah! The Marquess of Veron!" — and dashed off with the grace of a woman who loved socializing far too much.
Which left me, with the opportunity for escape.I stepped away quietly. I couldn't exactly hide my charade ball gown, but no one seemed to pay me much heed.
.><><><.
The noise of the hall faded as I wandered down a side corridor. Outside, a small garden stretched beyond the marble arches — quiet, green, blessedly empty.
{If I could just find somewhere to sit…}
A patch of soft grass under a tree caught my eye. I sank beneath it, breathing in the cool air. It reminded me of the willow in my own garden back home.
For a brief, fleeting moment, I felt peaceful.
Then a voice came, from above.
"Who are you?" it demanded.
I blinked up. A boy perched in the tree branches — dark hair slicked neatly back, sharp icy-blue eyes, half-hidden by leaves.
My stomach dropped, and I hoped it didn't show on my face...or eyes.
I stared longer than I should've.
"I said, who are you?"
He probably got tired of waiting, because he suddenly jumped down from the tree, landing a little too gracefully for my comfort.
And there it was — the confirmation I didn't want.
{Those eyes... it ishim.}
"Are you perhaps… deaf?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, voice curious but commanding.
"N-no," I stammered.
"Then don't make me repeat myself." He tucked his hands into his pockets, leaning back like he owned the ground he stood on.
I almost laughed right then and there.
{It's definitely him.}
"My name's Iris. What's yours?"
His face twitched — confusion flashing through cold crystal eyes. "You don't know who I am?" he asked, suspicion creeping into his tone.
{Of course I do! But staring for so long was already an offense in itself, and you nobles are all so quick to take offense over anything. Playing dumb is my safest bet right now.}
"I'm sorry," I said evenly, "am I supposed to?"
{I mean, I've never been to the palace or met the imperial family before, so that's a decent excuse… right?}
"Hm."
The boy smirked. "Which house are you from?"
"Don't you think that's a rude question to ask," I countered, "considering I don't even know who you are?"
"Ah… of course." He bowed — surprisingly well for a liar. "Ryder Belmont. Baron Belmont's first and only son."
I blinked. {Excuse me? You're what now? }
"Er… ahem. Lady Iris Hampton. First daughter of Duke Sylvester Hampton."
"Hampton… the mage?"
"Yes."
"Well, what brings you out here, milady?"
"Fresh air," I said briskly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, my mother will worry if I disappear too long."
I stood, adjusting my over-decorated skirt and making my exit with all the grace panic could manage.
"It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he called after me.
{What part of that was pleasurable?!}
I ignored him, walking faster.
{Ahh, shit. What a great start to the beginning of myend.}