Night Five
The group was completely divided.
Henry: "TEAM JACOB TILL I DIE!"
Joff: "YOU'RE A FOOL. EDWARD IS ETERNAL LOVE."
Coffi: silent, staring dreamily into the distance
Elves: "What is… team?"
Chubby: "YOUR MORTAL MINDS ARE FRAGILE."
Even I—gods help me—was invested. Vampire politics. Werewolf family drama. Sparkling curses.
Chubby had a meltdown about "INSULTS TO BLOOD DRINKERS."
Me? …Fine. I was engrossed. Not because of the romance—gods no. But because we actually have a creature like that in our kingdom. Not the sparkly kind—thank the gods—but something close.
The Ice People.
A secluded race in the far north. Pale. Cold-skinned. Sharp-eyed.
Afraid of the sun. They're not vampires, but…Close enough that Seraphine's ridiculous story made horrifying sense. And I caught myself imagining them sparkling.
I hate myself. Ridiculous. Absurd. But strangely addictive.
