For one breath, Lina couldn't move.
Because across the ballroom, under chandelier light and laughter that sounded rehearsed, Mira Sun wore Lina's name like a sentence.
Porcelain. White. Runed. Elegant.
LINA VERIS carved into it with delicate cruelty.
Mira's yellow gown shimmered softly when she shifted, but her posture was too stiff—like her body was waiting for a command. When she turned her head toward Lina, the smile behind the mask didn't belong to best friends.
It belonged to a script.
A performance written by someone who wanted Lina to see it.
Seren's fingers dug into Lina's wrist. "Don't rush," she whispered, voice shaking. "Her echo is… trapped. Like it's screaming under glass."
Kai's hand tightened around Lina's. "Eyes down," he murmured. "Don't look at the mirrors. Don't look at the silver stands. Not for long."
Reyon leaned in, pale under his half-smiling mask. "I'm just saying—if my best friend wore my name on her face, I'd start flipping tables."
Lina swallowed hard. Her ribs burned where Kai's name lived in her bones, the tether pulsing like a warning bell.
"I'm going to her," Lina whispered.
Kai's voice went colder. "Not alone."
Lina's jaw clenched. "We can't drag her through a crowd of masked Council pets."
Seren's eyes flicked across the ballroom, glowing faintly. "There are nodes," she whispered. "See the mirrored pillars? The silver stands? They're… listening. Recording emotional spikes."
Reyon exhaled sharply. "So: no screaming. No dramatic love confessions. No table flipping. Noted."
Lina started forward anyway, moving like she belonged here—chin lifted, steps smooth—because panic would feed the room.
The Masquerade was a net.
It tightened when you fought it.
Music swelled into a waltz, and couples began drifting onto the dance floor like they were sleepwalking into choreography.
Lina's gaze kept catching reflections—too many angles, too many versions of people. She avoided the mirrors, but they were everywhere: in polished marble, in glass décor, in the silver stands that watched like eyes.
Don't look in the mirror.
She repeated it in her head like a prayer.
Kai walked close enough that his shoulder brushed hers once—barely—an anchor touch without making a scene.
"Say my name," Lina whispered, not looking at him.
"Lina Veris," Kai replied instantly.
Her mind steadied.
"Stay real," she whispered.
"I'm here," he murmured back, voice tight.
Ahead, Mira stood near a mirrored wall panel framed in gold. Two masked Council attendants drifted nearby like polite vultures.
Mira's porcelain mask turned slightly as Lina approached.
The carved name caught chandelier light.
Lina's own name glowed.
And Lina felt something in her ribs react—sharp heat, as if the bone-tether recognized the script as a threat.
Seren caught up on Lina's other side, her voice barely audible. "The mask is calling to your tether."
Reyon trailed behind them, trying to look casual and failing. "I hate it when accessories call."
Lina stopped three steps away from Mira.
Close enough to hear her breathing.
Close enough to see the tiny tremor in her hands.
"Mira," Lina said softly.
The porcelain mask didn't move.
Then Mira spoke.
Her voice came out smooth, polite—too controlled.
"Hello," Mira said, and it sounded like someone reading Mira's voice from memory. "Lina Veris."
Kai's jaw tightened beside Lina.
Seren flinched. "That's not her cadence."
Lina swallowed, forcing her tone calm. "Say your name."
Mira's head tilted.
The mask's carved letters seemed to shimmer.
"My name is Lina Veris," Mira said gently.
Lina's stomach dropped.
The script was active. Fully.
Kai's voice turned hard. "Mira. Say your name."
Mira's porcelain mask angled toward Kai.
For the first time, the smile looked… strained.
As if something behind it hated being questioned.
"My name is Lina Veris," Mira repeated.
The music shifted.
A ripple moved across the ballroom, subtle as a breath—like the silver stands had noticed the tension.
Seren's eyes widened. "We're being watched."
Reyon's smile snapped into place like a survival reflex. "Okay! Hello! Fun coincidence—two Lina Verises at one party. Normal. Totally normal."
Lina's bones burned hotter.
The tether pulsed once—warning.
And under the polite voice, Seren heard it too: a muffled, frantic echo pressing from beneath.
Mira.
Real Mira.
Seren whispered, barely moving her lips, "She's in there. She's fighting. But the mask is rewriting the top layer."
Lina's throat tightened. "Mira, listen to me."
Mira's hands trembled.
A tear slid from beneath the porcelain edge—real grief leaking past the script.
Lina's heart cracked.
"Mira," Lina whispered. "Say my name. Stay real."
For half a heartbeat, Mira's breath hitched.
Her shoulders shook once.
Then a sound slipped out—thin, broken, real:
"Li—"
The script snapped tight like a collar.
Mira stiffened.
Her voice turned smooth again.
"My name is Lina Veris."
Kai's Shadowsteel flickered at his fingertips—controlled, restrained, furious.
Reyon leaned closer, voice strained behind humor. "Okay. So the mask is basically autocorrect from hell."
A Council bell chimed from the dais.
The music softened.
A Councilor's voice carried through the ballroom, warm and elegant:
"Founders' Masquerade attendees… we will now begin Special Guest Selection."
Seren went pale. "That's the line from the invitation."
Kai's grip tightened around Lina's hand. "They're about to pull someone."
The Councilor continued, smiling voice like silk over steel:
"Names will be called. Those selected will step forward for… recognition."
Lina's ribs burned violently.
The tether surged.
Kai swore under his breath.
Reyon whispered, "Recognition. That's a murder word."
Mira's porcelain mask turned toward the dais like she'd been yanked by an invisible string.
Lina's pulse spiked.
"No," Lina whispered.
Mira took one step forward without meaning to.
Seren grabbed Lina's sleeve. "If you grab her too hard, the script might try to transfer."
"Transfer?" Lina breathed.
Seren's eyes were wide with fear. "Identity scripts seek stability. Your tether is stability. It might try to sync to you."
Lina's bones burned hotter—like the mask had heard that.
She felt her mind thin for a terrifying second—
and she forgot what Kai looked like.
Not forever.
Just long enough to feel her stomach drop into a void.
Kai's hand squeezed hers sharply, grounding her with pressure.
"Say your name," he whispered, urgent.
"Lina Veris," she gasped.
His voice softened. "Stay real."
"I'm here," Lina whispered, blinking hard until his face snapped back into focus.
The dais lights brightened.
The Councilor lifted a scroll.
"First," they announced, "for Founders' Honor…"
Ink shimmered.
A name formed.
Lina held her breath.
The Councilor spoke:
"Lina Veris."
The ballroom went quiet.
Lina froze.
Mira froze.
Because Mira's porcelain mask—etched with LINA VERIS—glowed faintly as if answering.
And the Councilor, still smiling, added with crisp clarity:
"Step forward."
Lina's ribs burned like a siren.
Mira's body moved—jerked by the script.
At the exact same time, Lina's feet shifted half a step—pulled by something deeper, older, hungry.
Two Linas.
One name.
One verdict.
Kai's hand clamped around Lina's wrist, fierce. "Don't move."
Mira's porcelain mask turned toward Lina, shaking.
And beneath the script, beneath the polish, Mira's real voice broke through in a whisper so small only Lina could hear:
"Run."
To be Continued© Kishtika., 2025
All rights reserved.