Chapter 9
1644 Words
Mia sat curled into the hanging swing near her balcony doors, gently swaying as the evening air drifted through the room.
Her book rested open in her lap.
Unread.
Her mind wasn’t here.
It hadn’t been all day.
She stared out at the garden, the vines wrapping along the balcony railing blooming softly in the fading light.
Everything felt—
Off.
Like the world had shifted slightly out of place and no one else noticed.
The door creaked open.
“I have returned victorious,” Lilly announced, nudging it shut with her foot.
Mia blinked, pulling herself back.
Lilly walked in carrying a plate with three slices of cheesecake and a glass of dark red liquid.
“Don’t ask how hard that was,” she added. “The housekeeper hates me.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Mia said dryly.
“Rude.”
Lilly dropped onto the bed, already taking a bite. “Also—I grabbed your nourishment before she could yell at me.”
Mia smiled faintly. “You’re a hero.”
“I know.”
She took another bite—then suddenly froze.
“Oh my God.”
Mia looked over. “What?”
Lilly’s eyes widened. “There was this smell downstairs.”
“…What kind of smell?”
“I don’t know!” Lilly said, waving her fork. “Sweet. Rich. Like—like a brownie or something? I swear I almost lost my mind.”
Mia frowned slightly.
“That’s… weird.”
“I know,” Lilly said, pouting now. “I couldn’t find where it was coming from.”
She shoved another bite of cheesecake into her mouth.
Then paused.
Looked at Mia.
“…Okay, now you’re doing the staring into space thing again.”
Mia blinked. “I’m not—”
“You are.”
Lilly pointed at her. “You’ve been weird all day. Spill.”
Mia hesitated.
Then—
“It’s him,” she admitted quietly.
Lilly’s face lit up instantly. “I knew it.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Mmhm.”
Mia sighed. “I don’t understand it. I shouldn’t feel anything. I’m not even—”
“Eighteen,” Lilly finished. “Yeah, I know.”
Mia looked down at her hands. “But something happened.”
Lilly leaned forward slightly. “You mean the intense, world-stopping eye contact?”
Mia gave her a look.
“I’m serious,” Lilly said, softer now. “What did it feel like?”
Mia swallowed.
“…Like everything broke for a second.”
Lilly went quiet.
That got her attention.
“…Okay,” she said slowly. “Yeah. That’s not normal.”
“I know.”
Silence stretched between them.
Then—
“Well,” Lilly said, flopping back dramatically, “he’s still hot.”
Mia groaned, dropping her head back against the swing.
“Lilly—”
“I’m just saying. If you’re going to have a mysterious supernatural connection, at least it’s with someone worth looking at.”
Mia didn’t answer.
Because despite everything—
Confusion.
Fear.
That strange, burning pull—
Her mind still drifted back to him.
And the way the world had changed…
Just by looking at her.
Lilly flopped back onto Mia’s bed later that evening, staring up at the ceiling, half-listening to the sounds of the packhouse settling into night.
Everything felt like it was shifting lately.
The Ball coming up.
The visiting clan.
That weird moment earlier—
Mia.
Lilly turned her head slightly, glancing toward the balcony where her best friend had been earlier, lost in her thoughts again.
Something was changing.
She could feel it.
And for once—
Lilly didn’t have a joke ready for it.
Her smile softened.
“Whatever this is,” she murmured quietly to herself, “you’re not dealing with it alone.”
Because that was the one thing Lilly knew for certain.
No matter what Mia was becoming—
No matter what the world decided to do about it—
Lilly would be right there.
Exactly where she had always been.
Mia blinked slowly, pulling herself out of her thoughts.
The room had gone quiet again—Lilly’s voice fading into the background as her mind drifted somewhere far away.
Too much had happened today.
Too many things she couldn’t explain.
She exhaled softly, then pushed herself up from the swing.
“Okay,” she said, stretching slightly. “I’m officially done thinking about all of this tonight.”
Lilly perked up from the bed, cheesecake fork still in hand. “Oh? Enlighten me.”
“I’m going to sleep,” Mia said firmly. “And tomorrow, I’m going to face whatever new level of chaos decides to show up.”
Lilly groaned dramatically, flopping backward. “Sleep is a scam. I need, like, twelve more hours of it at all times.”
“You literally just shifted two weeks ago,” Mia said. “Your body’s still catching up.”
“Exactly,” Lilly said, pointing at her. “Which is why I deserve unlimited rest.”
She popped another bite of cheesecake into her mouth—then immediately sat up again, eyes lighting with excitement.
“But wait—tomorrow!” she said, nearly bouncing. “The museum!”
Mia gave her a look.
“No, listen,” Lilly insisted. “It’s brand new. No one knows what they’re showing yet. That’s suspicious. I love that.”
“That’s not suspicious,” Mia said. “That’s just… how new places work.”
“Or,” Lilly leaned in, lowering her voice, “it’s full of ancient, cursed artifacts and no one told us.”
Mia smiled despite herself. “Of course that’s your first thought.”
“It’s a great thought.”
“Go to bed, Lilly.”
“I’m not tired.”
“You were just complaining about needing twelve hours of sleep.”
“That was before I got excited.”
Mia walked over, grabbed her by the arm, and gently shoved her toward the door.
“Out.”
“Wow,” Lilly said, stumbling slightly. “Rude.”
“Goodnight.”
“You’re going to miss me.”
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
Lilly grinned. “Exactly. You’ll miss me.”
Mia shook her head, pushing her fully into the hallway before closing the door behind her.
The soft click of the lock settled into the quiet.
Finally—
Stillness.
Mia moved slowly across her room, the familiar space wrapping around her like a second skin.
She paused at her small table near the balcony, fingers brushing lightly over the surface before sitting down.
For a moment, she just sat there.
Then—
She began to play.
A soft melody drifted into the room—quiet, slow, almost absent-minded. Something she didn’t fully think about, just… felt.
The notes filled the space gently, blending with the faint night air slipping through the open balcony doors.
Calming.
Grounding.
After a few minutes, she let the last note fade.
Silence returned.
Mia stood, heading toward the bathroom.
Steam filled the space quickly as the water ran, hot and steady.
Mia stepped under it, letting the heat soak into her skin, washing away the tension of the day—at least on the surface.
But even here—
Even now—
Her thoughts wouldn’t fully quiet.
Ice-blue eyes.
That moment.
That feeling—
She shut her eyes, exhaling slowly.
“Tomorrow,” she whispered.
A sudden breeze swept through her room.
The curtains billowed outward, soft fabric lifting and falling like breath.
Mia stepped out of the shower moments later, wrapping a towel around herself as a chill brushed unexpectedly across her skin.
She paused.
Frowning slightly.
That felt… colder than it should have been.
She moved back into her room, glancing around.
Everything looked the same.
Nothing out of place.
“…You’re just tired,” she murmured to herself.
Still—
The feeling lingered.
Faint.
Unsettling.
She shook it off, moving toward her dresser and pulling out a soft tube top and matching shorts, slipping them on before grabbing a brush.
Slow, practiced motions.
Untangling.
Then a loose braid over one shoulder.
Simple.
Comforting.
She dimmed the lights one by one, leaving only the soft glow of the moon spilling in through the balcony.
She closed one of the doors—but left the other open.
She always did.
She didn’t like shutting it out.
The night.
The air.
The quiet.
The moonlight kept the dreams away.
Most of the time.
Mia climbed into bed, pulling the covers up as she settled into the familiar softness.
Her body relaxed quickly.
But her mind—
Still wandered.
The dress.
The Ball.
Victor.
That moment—
She frowned slightly, staring up at the ceiling.
Nothing about today made sense.
And yet—
It felt like it mattered.
Like something had started.
Something she didn’t understand.
Her eyes grew heavier.
Slower.
“Tomorrow,” she whispered again.
And this time—
Sleep took her.
The air shifted.
Soft.
Subtle.
Almost undetectable.
The curtains stirred again.
But this time—
There was no wind.
A presence slipped silently across the balcony.
Unseen.
Unheard.
It moved like shadow given form, gliding across the floor without sound, without weight.
It paused at the edge of her bed.
Watched.
Listened.
Her breathing.
Slow.
Even.
Unaware.
It crouched slightly, leaning closer—drawing in a slow, deliberate breath.
As if tasting the air around her.
A faint smile curved in the darkness.
Not warm.
Not kind.
Something else.
Something deeper.
The room itself seemed to tighten—fear pressing faintly into the space, unseen but present.
Lingering.
Watching.
Then—
Just as suddenly—
It was gone.
The air stilled.
The curtains fell quiet.
And Mia slept on…
Unaware of the darkness that had already found her.
- Writer
