Sophia forced herself to breathe slowly, carefully, until the glow faded back to its normal level. Then she turned away from the mirror, from that beautiful stranger wearing her face, and focused on the practical needs that might keep her grounded. Shower. Find something to wear. Try to sleep, though the thought of closing her eyes and potentially seeing her mother's face again made her want to scream.
The shower had seventeen different settings. She chose the one that looked most like regular water pressure and stepped under the spray, not bothering to adjust the temperature beyond "not scalding." The hot water sluiced over her skin, and she watched it circle the drain, half expecting it to run gold or glow or do something else impossible.
It didn't. It was just water, washing away the sweat and the club's atmosphere and the last physical traces of her old life.
When she finally emerged, wrapped in a towel that was softer than anything she'd ever owned, she found her ruined club outfit folded neatly on the counter. Someone had been in while she showered—probably Marc, possibly Amanda—and left them there along with a simple note written in elegant script:
These belong to you. Everything you were, you still are. The rest is just additional.
No signature. It could have been from any of them.
Sophia crumpled the note and threw it in the trash. Then she went to the closet Marc had mentioned and found it stocked exactly as promised. Leggings, soft shirts, a few dresses, underwear still in packaging, even pajamas. All in her size. All in colors she actually liked—how had they known she preferred jewel tones to pastels?
Because they'd been watching. Learning. Cataloging every detail of her life like she was a research subject instead of a person. So damn creepy!
She pulled on the softest pajamas she'd ever touched—dark purple silk that probably cost more than her monthly rent—and returned to the main room. The bed beckoned, but she couldn't bring herself to get in it yet. Instead she went to the windows, pressing her forehead against the cool glass.
The wards shimmered faintly in her enhanced vision, creating patterns of light and shadow across the grounds below. In the distance, she could see the tree line where the forest pressed close. No lights from neighboring houses. No signs of civilization beyond this supernatural fortress.
Isolated. Protected. Trapped.
Sophia closed her eyes and tried to imagine what her mother would say if she could see her now. Would Jasmine be proud that her daughter had survived, had awakened, had inherited the power she'd sacrificed everything to create? Or would she be horrified that Sophia was exactly as lost and alone as she'd been on that dying island?
Behind her, the door opened quietly. She didn't turn around. Didn't need to. She could feel him now—that invisible thread connecting her to Alexander, thrumming with his presence, his concern, his barely restrained need to comfort her.
"I thought I said I wanted to be alone," she said, her voice flat.
"You did," Alexander acknowledged. "And if you tell me to leave, I will. But I wanted to check on you. Marc said you seemed... fragile."
Sophia laughed, the sound bitter and broken. "Fragile. That's one word for it." She finally turned to face him, watching his expression change as he saw her clearly for the first time since her awakening. Saw the way his ice-blue eyes widened slightly, the way his breath caught, the way he looked at her like she was something precious and terrifying all at once.
"I can see it," she said quietly. "The change. I don't look the same anymore, do I?"
Alexander moved closer slowly, giving her time to object. When she didn't, he came to stand beside her at the window, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body but not touching. "You look like yourself," he said carefully. "Just more so. The awakening brings out what was always there, just dormant. You were always this beautiful, Sophia. Now everyone else can see it too."
"I cracked the marble sink," she said instead of responding to the compliment. "Barely touched it and it broke. How am I supposed to exist in the normal world when I can't even grip things without destroying them?"