"Why did you say that?" I asked Oliver, refusing to let the matter drop.

"Say what?"

"'Try not to do that at the ball.'" I mimicked his voice, trying to sound confident—but the words trembled, betraying me. "Why did it sound like a warning?"

He shrugged. "Oh... because you might have exposed us." His eyes sharpened as he became serious. "But you said you weren't planning to go, so... either way, I wouldn't recommend it."

I didn't get the chance to answer.

In an instant, everything shattered. The vision hit—no warning, no buildup—just a violent tear in reality.

A massive wedding hall. A ceiling that is far too high. Too beautiful. Too empty.

Walls shimmered in gold; a silver crown hung above white columns. Soft light spilled across tables stacked with finger foods, chocolates... even gummy bears.

Too perfect. Too festive. And far too quiet.

The crowd split into two: on one side—laughter, music, and dancing. On the other—screams—raw fear.

My heart thudded. Deep down, I already knew who was there. But my mind refused to believe.

I turned—and saw them.

A pair of glowing eyes. Burning, watching from the shadows at the back of the hall.

Not just looking, searching for me. Like they knew me.

Something inside me collapsed. My heartbeat lost rhythm, stumbling as if it were trying to flee before I could. A shiver crawled beneath my skin—the kind that recognizes truth before your mind is ready.

The darkness swallowed everything.

I froze. Couldn't move. Couldn't blink. My eyes were open—but reality hadn't decided if I belonged to it.

Time spun. Seconds—or lifetimes.

My breath caught.

Hands. A touch. Reality. And a voice I knew.

I gasped, and the world snapped back.

Oliver's arms held me.

"Amilia, are you okay?" His voice—softer, almost foreign. It felt like I had never heard him speak in that way before.

I pushed away, flustered. "Yeah. Of course." I rubbed my temples. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He watched me, unreadable. He said in a flat tone, "You fainted."

"Seriously?" My hand flew to my head. How... without even noticing?

"I'll let everyone know you're skipping classes today," he said, turning to leave.

"Excuse me?" My voice rose, sharp. "I'm going. And I'm not arguing."

He didn't answer. Just flicked his hand. That tiny gesture was enough.

In a blink, I was lying on a wide bed. A blanket curled around me like an enchanted eel.

I tried to roll free—but it only tightened. A silken serpent winding around my ribs.

"Really, Oliver? A suffocating spell?" I muttered, struggling. "Point for you. Zero for me."

But I didn't know if I was frustrated because he trapped me—or because he was right.

The coils pressed tighter against the most fragile place in me. It reminded me of that night when my own power had almost consumed me from within.

And I didn't fight it. Not at first. Maybe I didn't want to.

Oliver was already gone. The ceiling left me alone.

I didn't know if I wanted to cry, scream, or vanish without a trace.

But more than anything, I wanted to understand what I had seen.

Those eyes. Too familiar. Too close.

Something in me trembled, not from the spell—but from the possibility that the vision was real.

If it hasn't happened yet... Why does it feel like I've already lost someone—someone I never even knew was mine?