E L L E

I don’t mean to move. My body just… goes. One breath, one step. Suddenly, I’m not beside Luke anymore. I’m drifting into Ashriel’s gravity like I never had a choice. The cold under my skin isn’t sharp now. It’s alive. Humming. Waiting. For the first time tonight, it doesn’t feel like it’s trying to hollow me out.

I hear Luke’s voice behind me, soft, cracked, begging, but it feels miles away. Too far to grab onto without breaking something I can’t name. Ashriel’s hand is still there, suspended between us, fingers open in that quiet, steady way that shouldn’t affect me but does. God, it does. The whole room has gone heavy, like the air is holding its breath. Like the walls know exactly what I’m about to do.

My heartbeat isn’t warm. It’s cold and fast and bright, like something inside me is turning crystal. I shouldn’t go to him. I take another tiny step anyway. And the frost under my skin answers like it’s relieved.

I feel the stares before I see them. People have stopped dancing. Stopped whispering. It’s a collective tilt—like the entire ballroom is leaning in. They want to witness the moment when Elle the Mess chooses the wrong boy. The dangerous boy. The one everyone thinks I shouldn’t even talk to, let alone step toward in the middle of the Harvest Ball.

A girl near the punch table mutters, “She really is going with both of them.” Someone else snorts, like it’s the best drama they’ve seen all year. And Luke.. God. I still haven’t turned around, but I feel him. The ache of him. The way his attention clings to my spine like he’s trying to hold me in place with just wanting.

I can’t look back. Not now. If I see his face, I’ll break. The chandeliers flicker overhead, their lights bending into slow spirals, shadows stretching across the polished floor. The violins drag out a long, trembling note that doesn’t match the song at all. It sounds like the music is melting.

My dress… the stupid red dress, suddenly feels too loud, too bright. Like the note in my pocket whispered me straight into this moment. Wear red — A. I still don’t know who sent it. But every breath I take feels like I’m walking deeper into whatever they wanted.

My hand lifts before I realize I’m doing it. There’s this buzzing under my skin, like a static building, like the air between us is a wire about to snap. Ashriel doesn’t move, doesn’t push. He just waits, arm steady, eyes on mine through the black half-mask he’s wearing. Somehow, the mask makes it worse, like he’s hiding everything except the part of him that wants me.

When our fingers finally touch, the frost doesn’t explode; it unrolls. A thin, shimmering spiral curls across the floor beneath our feet, perfect and deliberate, like a pattern etched in ice by an invisible hand. Gasps ripple across the room. My breath catches hard in my throat.

Ashriel’s thumb brushes the side of my hand. Just that. Just one tiny movement. But it sends a pulse straight up my arm and into the center of my chest, like my ribs are vibrating around something fragile. The temperature isn’t dropping. It’s adjusting. My body falls into it like this is the climate I was built for.

I’m aware, so painfully aware of the sound of Luke’s breath behind me. The disbelief. The hurt. But I can’t turn around. Not when the frost is curling higher, brushing the hem of my dress, swirling with every heartbeat. Ashriel’s fingers close around mine, and the frost reacts like it’s… happy. Actually happy. My stomach twists. What the hell is happening to me?

Ashriel steps closer, and my whole body just… folds into his. Not in some dramatic fairy-tale swoon. It’s smaller than that. Simpler. Human. The way my chest meets his. The way our hands settle between us. The way his other hand lifts, slow, careful, and lands at my waist like he’s afraid to touch me wrong.

People are still watching. I can feel them circling around like the edge of a storm. But everything outside this tiny space between us goes blurry. The music feels muffled, like it’s coming through water.

Fog gathers at our feet, soft at first, then thicker, swirling like a second set of dancers tracing our steps in a different rhythm. The chandeliers above us rotate just a little too slowly, like someone turned gravity on its head. My breath slips out of me in a shaky exhale.

Ashriel doesn’t say anything. He just moves, guiding me into the first steps of a dance I definitely don’t know. But my body follows him anyway, matching him beat for beat, like I’ve done this with him in another life.

Mirrors along the wall catch our movements, but something is off. One reflection lags behind by a fraction of a second, like the mirror is trying to remember how to be a mirror. I shudder. His hand tightens at my waist, barely, but it grounds me. For a moment, I forget the fear. For a moment, I forget everything except him.

I can feel Luke somewhere behind me, like a bruise I keep pressing even when it hurts.

Warmth. Safety. The version of me I used to be.

Ashriel is none of that. He’s cold in a way that fits into the cracks of my ribs like it was made for them. Like, I’m becoming someone who can’t survive warmth anymore. I hate that thought. It still feels like betrayal to even think about it.

My feet move with his like we’ve practiced this a hundred times. We haven’t. We’ve barely touched outside of moments that felt like accidents or threats. But somehow I know exactly where he’s taking me. Like there’s a map under my skin he’s reading.

The chandelier spirals overhead. Frost pools around us in soft rings, expanding every time my heart kicks. Then a thought hits me so hard my whole body jolts: The whisper never meant him.

“Not him.” The words that stalked me for weeks. The warning that curled at the edges of my dreams. I always thought it meant Ashriel. It never said that. It just… let me assume. And now—now I feel the Frost shift inside me, like something invisible is nodding. Like I knew I’d figure it out eventually. A cold rush pours up my spine.

This moment, this dance. It isn’t against destiny. It’s part of it. And that terrifies me more than anything else.

We turn, slow, deliberate, and I feel his breath near my cheek. It’s steadier than mine. Of course it is. Nothing rattles him. But something in his jaw flexes, a tiny shift like he’s holding something back.

“Elle,” he breathes, quiet enough that only I hear it. “This is why you shouldn’t run from me.” My stomach drops. It’s not a threat. It’s not a command. It’s… confession-adjacent. Something real is bleeding through the cracks in him. My fingers tighten around his without thinking.

His hand at my waist tenses, just for a heartbeat, and then he exhales like that small squeeze did something to him he wasn’t prepared for. The frost ripples around our feet in a perfect ring that expands outward like sound waves. I swallow hard.

The room is loud in its silence. Every person here is pretending not to watch us, but the air feels heavy with their gaze. Waiting. My heart races, and the Frost races with it. And I know, deep in that place the Rift keeps touching, that if he said one more thing like that, I’d lean all the way in without caring about anything else.

We pivot near the mirrored wall, and I catch the wrong thing immediately. Our reflection isn’t matching us. My breath stops. We step left. The reflection lags late by half a beat, then jerks into place like a puppet remembering its strings. The fog thickens near the base of the mirror, climbing upward as hands pressed against the glass from the other side.

I grip Ashriel’s shoulder without thinking. He goes still. Completely still. Like he sees it too. The reflection tilts its head, but the angle is too sharp, too curious, too empty. Like it’s trying to mimic me and failing. A cold shiver cuts through me, and this time it isn’t the kind that settles into my bones; it’s the kind that claws up my throat. The fog behind us coils like smoke underwater. Something moves in it. Too tall. Too still.

Ashriel shifts slightly, like he’s preparing for me to bolt, but his hand stays gentle at my waist.

“Don’t look at it,” he murmurs, not harsh, soft, like he’s coaxing me back into him.

“Just stay with me.” I want to. I want that so badly it scares me more than the distortion staring at us from the mirror. But the Hollowed thing watches every tiny motion we make, like it’s learning how to wear my shape.

We reach the center of the dance floor again, and something shifts. The crowd is pulled back enough that it feels like we’re alone, even though we aren’t. Hundreds of eyes track us, breath held, waiting for me to do something that’ll become gossip by morning.

Ashriel’s hand slides higher on my back. Not inappropriate. Just close. Closer than anyone else has held me tonight. My pulse jumps, and the frost around us rises like it’s being pulled upward by the beat of my heart.

“Elle,” he says again, softer this time. I lift my eyes. He’s already looking at me. The music slows. Or maybe time does. The chandelier spirals rotate in perfect sync with the rise and fall of my chest. His forehead dips toward mine. Just barely. Barely enough for his breath to warm the corner of my mouth, even though he’s cold, and somehow that doesn’t make sense, but also it does.

My lips part. He does too, like we’re mirroring each other without thinking. Every inch between us feels electric. I can’t hear the music anymore. I can’t hear the room. All I feel is him, and the Frost humming like it’s urging me forward. I lean in, God, I lean in.

And the frost pauses like it’s holding its breath with me. Our lips brush air, close enough that I taste cold and something warmer underneath it. Then I jerk back. It’s instinct. Panic. Maybe self-preservation. Maybe cowardice. I don’t know. But the Frost knows. It shatters.

A crack like splitting glass whips across the ballroom floor, spiraling outward from our feet. People scream, stumble back. The chandeliers flicker so violently they buzz. Ashriel’s hand tightens like he’s catching himself from reaching after me. I’m shaking. Chest tight. Breath broken. I almost kissed him. I almost gave the Rift exactly what it wanted. And the world reacted like it was waiting for me to say yes.

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