The guards didn't care that I was barefoot.
They dragged me down a marble hallway that glittered like crushed stars, past towering columns of black stone, past fae nobles whispering behind jeweled fans. Their eyes gleamed—silver, gold, violet—But they all looked too good to be real. I mean it was so obvious they weren't ordinary people.
And none of them looked kind.
The guards shoved the heavy doors open. The throne room roared into view.
A massive hall. Ceilings draped in vines. A distant skylight spilled moonlight over a line of figures sitting high above—royal, regal, and terrifying. Chiefs with angry looking faces. High fae cloaked in living shadow. And him.
At the end, on the throne of black thorns, sat Prince Kaelen Thorne.
He stared straight at me.
And I, shivering from head to toe my whole body froze in fear of anguish.
Fear of my own death. Time seemed to slow down, and I was brought to my knees before the king. My hair was tangled, I could hear my soul screaming in fear like it was about to be ripped out.
The only thing on my mind was to survive and go home. All I wanted now was to live more than ever.
My heart pounded, waiting to hear a verdict or something
The silence of the room raced in my head.
Then, the chiefs of the royal court
Dressed in black and red robes with golden symbols embedded on it. They all echoed
"Serve us justice, my king."
I could hear my heart thud at the sound of that.
One said, "She's a spy."
Another said, "Let's kill her she's a human."
O "God pls spare me," I said in my head, trying to compose and hide my fear.
My name is elira Vale.
"You're probably wondering how I ended up here."
Gasps echoed
"O God did I say that out loud."
One of the nobles snorted.
I smiled bitter, and breathless.
"Well.... let me take you back to where it all began."
___
Three hours earlier, I was sprinting across a crowded street, dodging traffic like my life depended on it—because it kind of did."Miss Vale!" Professor Harrow's voice bellowed from behind me. "You forgot the museum key!"
I spun around, breathless, barely avoiding a biker.
He just shook his head and disappeared into the building.
Honestly, I wasn't late. Not technically. But I was in a rush. That night's exhibit had been calling me for days, and I'd finally gotten permission to study one of the newest artifacts after hours.
A mysterious mirror. No official records. No known enchantments. No reflection. Weird right? But skeptically it was amusing.
And It was perfect.
---
By 9:00 p.m., the museum was empty except for the security guard asleep at the front desk.
I knelt on the cold marble floor in the center of the "Otherworldly Artefacts" hall, sketchpad in my lap, flashlight balanced between my teeth. The mirror was mounted on a stone pedestal. No frame. No markings. Just an oval sheet of dark glass, smooth as still water.
But something in me knew… it wasn't just glass.
And for some reason my fingers itched.
I reached out, just to trace the edge.
Just once.l
The surface was colder than I expected. Colder than anything should be indoors.
Then it… rippled.
I froze.
"What the—"
A thin crack split the center with a sound like bone breaking under water. My flashlight flickered, and then died.
The mirror pulsed.
Once...Twice.
Then the light exploded outward. White-hot.Burning.
I screamed, but it was like the sound got sucked out of my chest. My limbs locked. The floor dropped away beneath me.
I wasn't falling.
I was being dragged.
Dragged through light, through air, through something ancient and alive that didn't want me but couldn't stop pulling.
My lungs burned.
My bones ached.
My last thought before the light swallowed me whole was—
"This better not ruin my sketchbook."