The next thing I knew, I was standing in the middle of the ballroom—though to call it simply a ballroom today felt somehow inadequate.
It was as if space itself had become a living, breathing thing. Alive with noise, movement, magic. A place trembling at the edge of transformation. What had once been a vast and polished room of old-world luxury had now turned into a tempest of color, motion, and murmuring enchantment—a grand heart beating erratically in the final hours before it was meant to dazzle.
I didn’t remember entering. One moment I had been following Callum through the Academy halls, half-dazed and entirely unwilling, and the next I had been swallowed whole by this.
By this.
The ballroom unfurled in every direction—cathedral-tall ceilings framed by gilded arches, walls glowing
