E L L E

The bells yank me out of sleep before the sun even thinks about rising. Not normal bells, these sound like the tower’s being ripped open. My heart takes off immediately, like it already knows what this is about. The hum under my skin wakes too, cold and electric, like a second heartbeat trying to outrun mine.

The hallway outside my dorm is a mess of half-dressed girls, blankets trailing, hair everywhere. Everyone’s talking too loud because that’s what people do when they’re scared.

“Something broke..”
“No, the East Wing..”
“I heard someone saw a Shade..”
“They wouldn’t ring the bells at dawn unless..”

My scarf is crooked, but I leave it, my hands are shaking too hard to fix anything. I make it halfway down the stairs before Luke finds me. He grabs my arms, looking me over like he’s expecting injuries or frost marks.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Automatic and useless because he doesn’t buy it.

He doesn’t call me out, though. He just threads his fingers through mine and steers me toward the courtyard with everyone else. My hand falls into his like it’s used to being there, and something tightens deep in my chest.

Outside, the fog is thick enough to swallow the walkway. It clings to everything, heavy and strange, like it might turn solid if I breathe too hard. My breath lingers in the air longer than anyone else’s, and the hum under my skin gives a sharp, warning pulse.

Luke catches the look on my face. “Elle…”

“I’m fine.” Another lie and I’m stacking them up like injuries. Whatever moved in those mirrors last night, whatever slipped halfway into our world before retreating, it isn’t finished with me. I feel it in my bones.

The courtyard is crammed full of students, the air humming with nerves like a live wire. Fog coils around our feet, thick enough to swallow the stones beneath us. Maribel Crane stands front and center in some ridiculous fake-fur coat, whispering theatrically to Cassian like she’s practicing for a spotlight she doesn’t have. She keeps flicking these smug little glances my way. I pretend not to notice, but my skin tightens anyway.

Teachers gather along the edges.  Calloway looks like he might throw up, Maelor looks like he hasn’t closed his eyes all night, and Korran’s eyes lock onto me immediately, sharp and too focused. The hum in my chest spikes, and I grip Luke’s sleeve without meaning to. That’s when I spot Silas, he’s sweeping through the fog with his old push broom, brushing frost off the stone in a perfect, circular outline. Not morning frost, or natural, it’s a mark. My mark.

He meets my eye for half a second, just long enough to send a warning then looks away like it never happened and my stomach drops.

Luke follows my gaze. “What?”

“Nothing.” I say it way too quickly, way too brightly. There’s no chance I’m getting into frost circles and whispering mirrors when everything else is already falling apart. A cold shift rolls through the courtyard and every conversation cuts off like someone hit mute. Headmistress Draven steps onto the stone platform and even the fog freezes in place.

“Students,” Draven says, and her voice hits like someone shutting a door in your face. “You are here because there have been… disturbances.”

Disturbances. That’s what she called last night, a mirror splitting open like a wound, something crawling through the reflection and frost spiraling across my floor like it recognized me. My jaw aches.

“You may have heard rumors,” Draven continues. “Exaggerations about safety. Speculation about postponing the Harvest Moon Ball.” Her gaze sweeps the courtyard, sharp as broken glass.

“The Ball will proceed as scheduled.” A shocked murmur ripples through the crowd. And someone mutters, “She can’t be serious.”

Luke leans close. “She knows. She has to know.” I swallow, my throat burning. He’s right, and the truth clicks into place with a cold certainty:

They already know.
All of them.
They always knew.

Draven talks about tradition, unity, order and none of it sounds human. It sounds like she’s reading from a script written by someone who doesn’t feel anything. The hum in my chest spikes. My breath fogs, just mine and Luke sees.

“El,” he whispers. “You’re freezing.”

I try to answer, but the creaking sound in the air cuts me off  like glass. Everyone turns their heads upward in slow, drifting movements, like we’re being pulled by strings. The chandelier strung between the towers is swaying. Barely, but the crystals clink against each other like teeth in a nightmare.

One crystal rotates in a  slow, deliberate twist. Inside the glass, a thin frost spiral curls to life. It blinks tightening and loosening like an eye opening after a long sleep. Another crystal trembles and forms. The hum in my chest fires off like a flare, my fingers clamp around Luke’s coat. The frost inside the crystals pulses in time with my heartbeat. It’s watching me, the chandelier stills, but the spirals don’t fade, like they’re awake.

“Elle.” Luke’s voice drags me back, he’s searching my face like he’s afraid it’ll vanish if he looks away. People are still buzzing about the chandelier, but his focus is laser-locked on me. He steps closer, blocking half the courtyard like a human shield. “They’re not canceling the Ball. And… look, I know things have been weird between us.” My chest tightens.

“I got jealous,” he says, voice thin. “I shouldn’t have, I know that.” The chandelier spirals pulse once overhead, like eavesdropping.

Luke takes a breath. “But I still want..” He hesitates, and Luke never hesitates. “I want the first dance, at the Ball, If you want it too.”

The world tilts, my pulse, the hum, the lingering frost, it all collides. There’s a version of me that says no and a version that tells him everything, Ashriel, the bond, the whispers, the mirrors, but I’m not that version today.

“Okay,” I say softly. “Yeah. The first dance.” The relief on his face is blinding, above us, the frost spirals flare once, like something didn’t approve.

The crowd breaks apart in uneven waves, everyone wandering off like they’ve forgotten where they’re supposed to be and the whole campus feels tilted and wrong. Luke walks me toward the dorms, his hand hovering at my back like he’s waiting for me to say something, but I don’t. With every step, the hum inside me gets sharper and the fog gathers thicker around my legs, like it’s trying to slow me down. And then I feel it, a presence, not loud or dramatic, just… there. A shadow by the walkway, still and watching. I don’t turn to look because I already know.

Ashriel, keeping watch, keeping his distance and hurting me more with his quiet than if he said a word. Luke doesn’t notice him, maybe he can’t or maybe he doesn’t want to.

“Elle,” Luke murmurs. “You don’t have to fake it.”

I want to spill everything, the fear, the confusion, the way I feel split right down the center, but nothing comes out.

“I’ll be okay,” I manage, another lie to add to the pile. Luke studies me for a beat, like he’s deciding whether to push, then just nods and heads toward the boys’ dorms. When he’s gone, that shadow slips away too but the cold doesn’t.

My room is dark when I step inside, quiet in a way that feels fake. I toss my scarf onto the bed and I’m about to collapse when I stop cold.

There’s an envelope on my pillow.

White.
Neat.
Wrong.

My breath rushes out too fast, no one should’ve been in here because prefects would never allow it, and the window’s still locked. My hands tremble as I pick it up, no name on the front, just a red wax seal pressed into a spiral. I cracked it open, one card,  one line.

Wear red. —A

My heart lurches hard enough to hurt, not Ashriel because he wouldn’t, couldn’t send this. So if it isn’t him… Who knows my mark?  Who knows my choices? Who is watching me closely? The hum under my skin murmurs back, colder than ever.

Soon.