I was exhausted — the kind of exhaustion that makes your bones feel heavy. My back ached from leaning over the worktable all day, and my mind felt hazy. A shower felt like the only cure, so I grabbed what I considered my comfiest pajamas — though, in truth, they weren't exactly warm or cozy. A sheer cotton lawn top and matching mini shorts. Light, airy, and perfect for letting the steam wrap around me.
The water was bliss, washing away the grime of the day, though it did nothing to stop the heaviness in my chest. When I stepped out, I let the cool air brush against my damp skin before beginning my usual nighttime routine patting serum into my cheeks, smoothing cream over my temples—when I slid open the small drawer to grab my lip balm.
That's when I saw it.
The ring
I had forgotten about it completely, as if it had been erased from my mind, but now… it sat in the corner of the drawer, the gold band dull in the dim light, yet the obsidian gemstone gleamed like something alive. My breath caught. It wasn't just reflecting light — it was glowing, faint but wrong. Not the warm glow of something beautiful, but something eerie, something that made the back of my neck prickle.
Before I could think better of it, I picked it up. The gold was cold, colder than it should have been after sitting in the room all day. I turned it between my fingers, watching that strange gleam shift within the stone, and almost without thinking, I slid it onto my finger.
The moment it touched my skin—
"Ouch!"
A searing pain shot straight through my heart, sharp and merciless, as though an arrow had pierced me. My breath caught; my vision swam. The room tilted, spinning in a dizzy haze. It was too much—too overwhelming. My head pounded, my limbs felt heavy, useless.
I stumbled, collapsing to my knees. My fingers clawed at the floor as I tried to steady myself, dragging my body toward the dressing table for support. But then I looked up—
And froze.
In the mirror, my reflection stared back at me… but it wasn't just me. Black markings were crawling across my skin — not scars, not veins, but strange, intricate patterns. Almost beautiful if not for the pain. They spread from my chest, curling upward toward my neck, pulsing like ink being spilled under my skin. Every line burned as it appeared, as if searing itself into me. The more they spread, the worse the pain became, until it was nearly unbearable
"No… no, no, no—" I gasped, yanking at the ring with trembling hands. My fingers slipped against the metal, my hands shaking violently. No matter how hard I yanked, it wouldn't move. My breath was coming in shallow gasps now, panic clawing at my throat. The more I pulled, the tighter it seemed to cling to me. Panic clawed at my throat as my whole body shook.
Then—something clicked.
The pendant.
The one my aunt had given me.
I tore it from around my neck, wrapping its chain around the ring. My hands shook violently as I pulled—once, twice—
With a sickening jolt, it slid free.
The patterns froze in place, no longer spreading… but still etched into my skin. My breath came in ragged gasps, my chest heaving. Relief barely had time to sink in before my body gave out completely. The world tilted—and went black.
When I opened my eyes, I wasn't in my dorm.
I was lying in the lap of my aunt. Her hand moved gently through my hair, her touch warm, familiar, heartbreakingly tender. But her eyes… they were glistening, tears slipping down her cheeks as she helped me sit up.
"You don't know what you've done," she said softly, her voice trembling. "This can't be reversed… Now you are part of this curse too. But—" she cupped my face, "you are also the one who can break it… without losing yourself."
I opened my mouth, desperate to ask what she meant, but she was already rising to her feet. Leaning down, she pressed a kiss to my forehead.
"I believe in you and I am always with you," she whispered.
And then—she was gone.
"No! Don't go! Stay with me!" I screamed into the empty air, but my voice only echoed into nothing.
My eyes flew open. I was back in my dorm, my breath ragged, my skin damp with sweat. The room was still and silent.
With a sigh and teary eyes, I whispered into the emptiness,"I need you."
But no one answered.
When I looked down… the black patterns were still there.
______________________________________________________________________________________________
My phone wouldn't shut up.The buzzing kept rattling against the nightstand, dragging me out of the warm haze of sleep. I cracked one eye open, groaned at the light spilling through my curtains, and finally reached over to grab it. The screen lit up — a waterfall of notifications, every single one from Mireille.
I was just about to open her chat when her name flashed across the screen again. Incoming call.
I sighed and answered, my voice still heavy with sleep. "What now, Mireille?"
"LYRA!" she practically shrieked, so loud I had to hold the phone away from my ear. "You are NOT going to believe this—"
"If it's about your neighbor's cat again, I swear—"
"NO! it's not about the cat its just that I'm coming in thirty minutes, so get dressed, we're leaving." she exclaimed.
Leaving for what?" I mumbled, rolling onto my side and burying my face in the pillow.
She gasped like I'd just insulted her entire family line. "The lucky draw ceremony! Don't tell me you forgot."
"Oh," I said flatly. "Then yes, I forgot. And now I'm remembering that I'm not going."
"You are going," she snapped, and I could practically hear her pacing. "I let you ditch the orientation, but this? Not happening. Not on my watch."
"It's just people pulling slips from a box, Mirelle…"
"It's tradition," she said with the same intensity someone might use to talk about saving the world. "It's how we find out the theme for the competition. The Great Auditorium will be packed, there's going to be music, lights—"
"—and a hundred people I don't want to see before breakfast," I muttered.
She ignored me completely. "You can't hide in your dorm forever. Do you want to be known as the mysterious new girl who never shows up to anything?"
"…Yes," I said without hesitation.
She groaned. "You're impossible. I swear, if you don't get up right now—"
"What? You'll lecture me over the phone?" I teased.
"—I'll come there, drag you out of bed, and march you to the Great Auditorium in your pajamas," she finished without missing a beat.
I blinked. "You wouldn't."
"Test me," she said sweetly. "You've got… twenty-eight minutes now. Chop chop."
"Mireille—"
Click. She hung up.
I tossed my phone aside and rolled over. "Let's see if you can actually drag me in my pajamas to the auditorium," I muttered into the pillow. "And what would everyone's reaction even be? Nothing. Who cares—"
I froze.
Not me. Not my skin. The patterns.
Those dark, curling marks were still there, creeping over my chest and inching toward my neck. They hadn't spread since last night, but they hadn't faded either. Under the pale morning light, they looked almost alive, shifting faintly when I breathed.
My stomach twisted. If anyone saw… they'd think I was a creep, insane—maybe even cursed. Whispers, stares, judgment. Worse.
I pulled my knees up and buried my face in them, trembling. I had to do something. I couldn't just walk out like this. Not today. Not ever.
I had to hide them.
Hence I tugged the soft black turtleneck over my head, pulling the collar high enough to hide every trace of the strange patterns. My fingers lingered at my neck, making sure nothing peeked through. For a second, I just stood there, staring at my reflection. The fabric clung neatly, my hair falling in loose waves over my shoulders, framing a face that looked far calmer than I actually felt.
I grabbed my brush and gave my hair one last pass, trying to look normal—just another girl, heading to just another ceremony. If only it were that simple.
And then came the knock, and before I could even say a word, Mireille barged inside with her usual hurricane energy. Her eyes scanned me up and down—and then she froze, jaw dropping.
"Wha—WHAT the hell are you wearing?" she practically shrieked, throwing her hands in the air. "A turtleneck? A turtleneck? Lyra, do you want to die?!"
I blinked, startled, clutching the doorframe. "What's wrong with it?" I asked, my voice too defensive, too quick.
Mireille stomped closer, her dramatic glare locking on me like a spotlight. "What's wrong with it? Oh, I don't know—maybe the fact that it's practically boiling outside and you're dressed like we're going ice skating? Do you hate yourself? Or are you just trying to faint in front of the entire auditorium?!"
My heart was pounding, but I forced a weak laugh, brushing past her. "Relax. I just feel comfortable in this.."
She stepped inside and shut the door with a dramatic sigh. "Comfortable? Babe, you're hiding your entire figure. That body deserves worship, not suffocation." Her grin turned sly as she tilted her head. "Wait… don't tell me. Is this for Alaric?"
I stiffened. "What? No!"
Her grin only widened. "Mhm. Because you do look like you're dressing up to hide from him. Afraid he'll stare too long?" She leaned in, whispering dramatically, "Or afraid you'll stare too long?"
Heat shot up my neck. "Mireille—"
But before I could protest further, she gasped and smacked my arm. "Oh my god, no. I was wrong. It's Kayden, isn't it? That explains everything. That lazy grin, the way he keeps showing up around you, the way he leans close like he's about to—"
"Stop!" I grabbed my bag, cheeks burning. "Why would you even think that?!"
"Because it's obvious," she sang, circling me like a hawk. "I've seen the way Alaric's eyes linger… but Kayden, oh, he doesn't even bother to hide it. One's silent fire, the other's reckless tease. And you? You're stuck between them."
"I am not 'stuck between' anyone," I snapped, flustered. "And you're delusional."
"Am I?" She tapped her chin, pretending to think. "Fine. Maybe I'll just sit back and let the lucky draw theme decide your fate. If it's romance? Oh, Lyra, you're doomed."
"Mireille!" I groaned, covering my face.
She burst out laughing, tugging me toward the door. "Don't worry, I'll keep your little dilemma a secret… for now. But honestly? If I were you, I wouldn't complain about being caught between Kayden and Alaric. That's practically every girl's dream."
"I hate you," I muttered as she linked her arm with mine.
"No, you love me," she replied smugly. "Now hurry up. The auditorium awaits, and so do your boys."
As Mireille tugged me along, I tried not to think about her Kayden comment, but my brain betrayed me anyway.
Kayden was… Kayden. Loud, playful, and annoyingly magnetic. A boy who could fill any room with his presence, who smiled too much, and who somehow managed to be at the center of everything. Always the male lead in the Drama Club — as if the stage itself would've sulked without him. His features were sharp enough to draw gasps, his laugh warm enough to keep them there. He looked like a playboy, no doubt, with girls practically orbiting him. But behind that shine, I sometimes wondered if it was all just another role he played.
I remembered his words from sculpting class too well — "You'd make a perfect model to sculpt." The way he'd said it, careless yet deliberate, had left me red-faced for the entire day.
But then there was Alaric. He was the opposite in every way — quiet, intense, carrying storms in his silence. Where Kayden was sunshine, Alaric was shadow, and yet it was Alaric who made my pulse stumble. It was dangerous, I knew — to even think of falling for him. Dangerous in a way that could ruin me. But maybe that's what unsettled me the most: the fact that part of me liked it. Liked that he could so easily pull me into his darkness.
"Hellooo?" Mireille's voice snapped me back. I blinked, realizing I'd been walking with a blush burning across my face.
She smirked immediately. "Oh my god, look at you! Don't tell me you were actually imagining Kayden's arms around you? Or was it Alaric this time?"
"Mireille!" I groaned, shoving her shoulder, but she only leaned in closer, grinning wider.
"Aha, you're blushing!" she sang, wiggling her eyebrows. "I knew it. Admit it, you've got the biggest crush in this entire building. No—two crushes. A love triangle, perhaps? Very dramatic of you, Lyra."
I groaned. " Not everything is about some guy, Mireille."
"Uh-huh," she sang, clearly not convinced. "If I recall, there's one boy in particular who said you'd make a perfect model to sculpt. Ring any bells?"
My steps faltered. Kayden. Of course she'd bring him up.
I hadn't even had a proper conversation with him outside of class, yet his voice still replayed in my head. Perfect model. The way he'd said it hadn't been flirty—it had been simple, almost careless.
Before I could respond, a lazy voice cut through. "Tch, Kayden this, Kayden that… and here I thought you two were talking about me."
We turned. Leo leaned against the banister, hands in his pockets, hair messier than ever, like he'd rolled out of bed and still managed to look good.
"Leo?" I blinked. "Since when do you—"
"Since always," he interrupted smoothly, pushing himself off the rail and strolling toward us. "What, did you really think you'd get rid of me that easily?"
Mireille narrowed her eyes. "Don't you start. You've been gone for weeks without a single word. Do you know how many times I—"
"Missed me?" Leo cut in with a grin. "Aww, I didn't know you cared."
"Ugh," Mireille huffed, rolling her eyes so hard I thought they'd get stuck. "You're insufferable."
I couldn't help the tiny smile tugging at my lips. Their banter slid into place like it had never left, and yet something about Leo's gaze felt… different. Softer when it landed on me. Sharper, too, like he was measuring the silence I carried.
Still, my mind drifted elsewhere when it shouldn't have. To Alaric. His name alone made my pulse hitch. Unlike Kayden's bright charm, Alaric was danger. To fall for him felt like daring a storm to swallow me whole—knowing it would, but leaning in anyway.
"Earth to Lyra," Mireille teased, waving her hand in front of my face. "Why are you zoning out? Don't tell me you're already writing love letters in your head."
Leo tilted his head, watching me closely. "She probably is."
I whipped around, flustered. "I'm not! Stop assuming things!"
"Sure, sure." Mireille smirked, linking her arm with mine as we reached the grand doors of the auditorium. "But if your face turns any redder, people will think you're already in love."
Leo chuckled low under his breath, and I wished the ground would just open up and swallow me whole.
Mireille squeezed my hand once more, dragging me inside. "Come on, sleepyhead. Let's see which poor soul fate destroys with this year's theme."