The palace corridors after midnight felt like the veins of a sleeping beast—cold marble, flickering sconces, and the faint echo of footsteps that might or might not be her own.
Toddd moved silently, barefoot beneath the sapphire gown she hadn't bothered to change out of. The heavy silk whispered against stone like a conspirator. She had slipped away from the banquet an hour earlier, pleading a headache. No one questioned the cursed triplet when she said she needed rest.
The east tower stairwell was narrow, spiraling upward like a corkscrew drilled into the night. No guards. No servants. Only dust motes dancing in the thin moonlight that leaked through arrow-slit windows.
At the top, a single iron-bound door stood ajar.
A warm amber glow spilled out.
Toddd paused on the threshold.
Inside: shelves that climbed to the vaulted ceiling, crammed with leather spines and scrolls sealed in black wax. A long table held open books, scattered quills, and—most strangely—a single silver hand mirror lying face-up, reflecting nothing but darkness.
Prince Lysander stood at the far window, back to her, gazing out over the sleeping city. His golden hair caught the candlelight like molten metal.
"You came," he said without turning.
"You asked." Toddd stepped inside and let the door click shut behind her. "Though I'm still deciding whether that was invitation or summons."
He turned then. The polite court mask was gone. What remained was something rawer—eyes too bright, jaw too tight.
"Both, probably." He gestured to the table. "Sit. Or don't. But look."
She approached slowly.
The open book in front of him was ancient, pages yellowed and edges crumbling. The script was not the common tongue of the kingdom; it twisted like living vines, letters that seemed to shift when she wasn't staring directly at them.
At the center of the spread page was an illustration.
Three identical infant girls, joined at the crown by thin black threads that bled into a single mark on each tiny chest:
T O D D D
Beneath it, in crimson ink that looked fresh:
The Triad cannot be sundered. One lives, two wait. One dies, two rise. Three fall, the gate opens.
Toddd's breath caught.
"The original prophecy," Lysander said quietly. "Not the sanitized version the priests feed the court. This is from the sealed archives beneath the royal crypt. I… borrowed it."
She looked up at him. "Why show me?"
"Because you're no longer pretending to be the frightened girl who accepted her fate." His voice dropped. "And because the mark on your skin pulsed three times during the banquet. Once when you looked in the mirror. Once when Cassian spoke to you. Once when I touched your waist."
She hadn't noticed.
Her hand rose instinctively to the brand. It felt warmer than the rest of her skin. Almost… alive.
"You're counting my deaths before they happen," she said flatly.
"I'm counting the warnings." He reached out, hesitated, then gently brushed his fingertips over the marks. The contact sent a jolt through her—sharp, electric, almost pleasurable. She jerked back.
"Don't."
He withdrew his hand. "It responds to intent. To emotion. To proximity of… others like it."
"Others?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead he picked up the silver hand mirror from the table and held it toward her.
"Look."
Toddd stared into the glass.
At first, just her own face—pale, violet-threaded eyes, lips pressed thin.
Then the reflection rippled like water disturbed by a stone.
Another face overlaid hers for a heartbeat.
Not hers.
Younger. Softer features. Hair the same midnight black, but braided with silver ribbons. Eyes the same storm-gray, but weeping black tears.
The image mouthed two words Toddd couldn't hear.
Then it was gone.
She stumbled back a step. "What was that?"
"One of them," Lysander said. "The second triplet. Lira. She didn't survive the birthing chamber… or so everyone believes."
"Everyone believes a lot of convenient things tonight."
He set the mirror down carefully, as though it might bite. "The TODDD mark isn't a curse of fate. It's a lock. And you—" he met her gaze steadily "—are starting to turn the key."
A sudden cold wind sliced through the room, though all windows were closed.
The candles guttered.
In the mirror, the dark reflection didn't fade completely.
It smiled.
A second later the candles flared back to full strength.
Lysander's face had gone ashen.
"That… hasn't happened before," he whispered.
Toddd's heart hammered so hard she could taste copper.
She reached for the mirror herself.
The moment her fingers brushed the silver frame, the surface clouded.
Three voices—soft, overlapping, feminine—whispered at once from nowhere and everywhere:
"Sister… you kept us waiting."
"The first death was yours on another world."
"The second will be tonight."
The mirror cracked.
A thin black line split the glass from edge to edge.
Toddd dropped it.
It hit the stone floor and shattered—not into shards, but into liquid darkness that pooled, then slithered toward her bare feet like ink seeking skin.
Lysander lunged, yanking her back by the waist.
The darkness recoiled, hissed, then sank into the cracks between the floor stones and vanished.
Silence.
Only their breathing.
He didn't let go of her immediately.
"You need to leave the palace," he said against her hair. "Tonight. Before the second mark activates."
Toddd twisted in his grip to face him.
"Why do you care?"
For the first time, the prince looked genuinely afraid.
"Because if the second dies… the third wakes. And the third isn't human anymore."
He released her.
"Cassian knows. He's been watching you since you woke up in that bed. He's not protecting you—he's waiting for the moment you break so he can claim what's left."
Toddd stared at the cracked floor where the darkness had disappeared.
Then at the prince who had just saved her from it.
Then at her own trembling hand, where a single new drop of black had appeared beside the original TODDD marks—like the first stroke of a second set.
She laughed once, short and bitter.
"Looks like I don't get to choose whether tonight is the second death."
She met Lysander's eyes.
"But I do get to choose who stands beside me when it comes."
To be continued…