Page 17

T he clock was merciless, each passing minute dragging me closer to midnight.

Exhaustion consumed me, and I’d given in, accidentally slipping into a deep sleep after supper.

I dreamed again of the Thread’s voice, but this time, the cadence was all wrong.

It sounded faint, like a piano key struck underwater. You don’t even know who you are.

I lay beneath the heavy weight of my duvet, fully dressed, my pulse a traitorous drumbeat against the silence.

Every few minutes, my fingers twitched toward my slate, the glow of its screen casting ghostly light against the sheets.

The numbers shifted. Another point lost in Present.

I released a breath, relief curling through me when Future remained untouched, still marked Unknown.

It was almost time. I should have already been gone, but still, I lingered. Just a moment longer. Across the room, Ruby lay curled beneath her blankets, her breathing slow and even, oblivious. I couldn’t risk telling her. I knew exactly what she’d do. She’d try to stop me.

I was leaving Evermore again, and this time, I wouldn’t fail. I wasn’t sure why my mind drifted to Hugo. I might never see him again, but I found myself shoving that thought deep into the place where things I couldn’t afford to want belonged.

A sudden chime rang out from my slate, reverberating through the stillness. I swore under my breath, fumbling to silence it. Across the room, Ruby stirred, shifting onto her side. I went rigid, until she mumbled something and settled again.

Only then did I dare glance down. A single message pulsed against the dark screen, its glow casting pale light across my trembling fingers.

11:58 - Dante: Where are you? Don’t even think about bailing.

11:59 - Arabella: I’m on my way. Two minutes. I want out.

I meant Evermore and everything that came after it. I wasn’t interested in delaying this any further. My palms were slick with sweat as I grabbed my coat and opened the door, hoping someone would remember me if I vanished tonight.

I stepped into the mist, the night curling cold against my skin, thick with the murmurs of the dead.

Ahead, the courtyard stretched vast and endless, bloated with fog, its edges dissolving into shadow.

Souls that had never been saved lingered in the haze, flickering like dying embers trapped in the space between what was and what could never be.

Dante stood beneath the archway, his black shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his usual rolled cigarette resting between two fingers.

That scent, smoke, spice, and something far older, lingered in the cold air.

He watched me approach, one brow arching in lazy amusement.

He looked far too calm. It didn’t match the swirling storm in my chest, the weight of what we were about to do. I wanted to turn around. I didn’t.

“Let’s get this over with,” I said, my teeth chattering against the cold.

“Verrine has eyes everywhere.” His gaze flickered past me, scanning the dark. “Just follow me.”

We slipped through the winding corridors, the silence thick between us. The deeper we went, the colder the air turned . It felt as though the very walls were holding their breath, as though something unseen stirred beneath the stone.

Evermore was a labyrinth of vaulted ceilings and twisting staircases, of forgotten hallways and doors that looked like they had not opened in centuries. But Dante moved as though he had mapped its every secret, his steps unfaltering.

We reached the end of the hall, where an arched wooden door loomed before us. A dull ache bloomed behind my eyes as I squinted in the darkness. A tarnished plaque read:

The Hall of Artifacts. Entry is strictly forbidden under codes 4-7 of the Student Handbook.

“What a shame.” I smiled. “I never got a copy of that handbook.” A low hum crackled over my skin, a whisper of unseen energy that sent a shiver down my spine.

Instinct had my fingers closing around my slate as if checking it would confirm what I already felt .

I was being watched. But the score didn’t matter anymore, nothing did.

Present: 64 .

Lower. It was falling. I forced my feelings down, swallowing the instinct to run.

Dante’s smirk was all satisfaction. He lifted an old, rusted key, and the lock clicked open. “Evermore’s security is lax,” he murmured, stepping inside. “They think our fear will keep us in line.”

“I can see how that works,” I admitted. “If you care to compete.”

I had seen places like the Hall of Artifacts before. My parents' study had been filled with relics and forgotten things. I shook my head, unable to look away from the massive crystal balls and lifelike statues. A shiver crawled down my spine at the sight of an old rag-doll with long dark hair.

I moved past a glass case, barely sparing the artifacts inside a glance. Then, I saw it. Something small, tucked into the shadows so neatly it was almost begging to be ignored. A feather, or what was left of it.

It was brittle, the edges darkened like it had been burned and cased in glass. But something about it, the weight in my chest, made my fingers twitch. I knew this. I’d seen this before. I just didn’t know how.

I reached for the glass, but a hand closed around my wrist firmly. “Focus,” Dante demanded.

I barely heard him. “What is it?”

His grip remained firm, unmoving. “A relic. A Vestige of a greater power.” He spoke carefully. “From a Fallen Angel.”

“A Fallen Angel?” I murmured. “How are they different from a Daemon?”

Dante breathed through his nose, a sound caught between frustration and restraint. “They’re more myth than anything. But if they are real,” he continued, “there aren’t many left. The legend says they can’t have children. Their bloodlines die with them. ”

If the universe itself had cast judgment upon them, punishment for their very existence, they must be a terrible, terrible thing.

A shudder coiled its way up my spine. My gaze drifted, catching on another doll.

A tattered, hollow thing with long, dark hair, its glassy eyes vacant, its small limbs stiff with neglect.

It was the kind of toy a child should have cherished yet had been abandoned instead.

It was clear it wasn’t out of loss or forgetfulness, but out of something else. Out of fear.

“What’s your motive, then?” I said, needing something solid to hold onto. This place was beginning to make my skin crawl.

Dante turned, and a shadow passed over his face. “The thing we’re looking for belongs to me.” He paused. Then, quieter. “Part of it, anyway.”

“And what is that thing?”

“Just a deck of cards,” Dante said. I narrowed my eyes. A deck of cards?

“That's hardly enough to get me expelled, Dante.”

He tilted his head, expression grave. “It’s enough.”

I clenched my jaw. “What sort of cards?”

At that, his lips quirked, just slightly.

Interesting. I felt something like a current pulling me toward a shelf in the back of the room.

I recognized them immediately, my fingers brushing over the green cards, the diamond-shaped eyes blinking in unison.

I gasped, jerking my hand back. For a fraction of a second, I swore the pupils followed me. Dorian’s playing cards.

Dante snatched them before I could hesitate. “Nice one, little thief,” he murmured, slipping them into his pocket. “Now, let's get out of here before the statues start talking.”

My fingers curled tightly at my sides. Dante had taken the deck, but it didn’t feel like a victory. Not yet. The walls of the hall pressed in, watching. I went too hot, then too cold. This felt like a mistake, but I had no rational reason why .

“Wait.” He turned as I reached for his arm. “Dorian had these yesterday. What do you want with his playing cards?”

“They don’t belong to him. Hurry, you don’t want to linger in here longer than necessary. Ether is sticky.”

“Dante.” He hadn’t answered my question. “What do you want with a deck of poker cards? If Dorian had them, I don’t see how they’d get me expelled.”

“The rules bend for darling Dorian,” Dante sneered, stepping closer. “Confess to Verrine tomorrow, first light. Tell her you lost them or sold them, whatever you have to do. If you take ownership, she can’t keep you here.”

I watched the way his fingers moved over the deck, the way they almost seemed to shift beneath his touch, the designs warping and twisting like they were alive, waiting for something. I called out to the Thread, but for the first time, I could not feel it with me.

I swallowed against the tension rising in my chest. “Dante?—”

“You're getting in too deep.” His voice was lower now, like he was giving me one last out, one last chance to turn back. This was his final warning. I should have listened.

But I didn’t. Instead, I scoffed. “That sounds like a threat.”

A quick ping vibrated against my hip. I yanked my slate free, barely breathing as I glanced down.

-07

I figured the number was a death sentence, if it even mattered. Luckily, it didn’t anymore.

Dante stepped closer with slow intention.

His fingers lifted, grazing the curve of my jaw, and every muscle in my body locked.

“It is.” He paused and his irises flashed silver, inhuman.

“Good luck, Arabella.” His breath ghosted over my skin, sending a shiver lancing down my spine.

“Once Evermore sinks its teeth into you,” he breathed, the words reaching me more through feeling than sound. “It doesn’t let go.”

A chill swept through the corridors, tickling my shoulders. I had abandoned Dante in the courtyard, but the sensation of being watched hadn’t left me. The sconces lining the walls flickered as I passed, as if responding to my presence, their golden flames guttering in my wake. My slate vibrated.

12:14 AM Dorian: Let me show you something.

12:15 AM - Arabella: Go away, Dorian.

12:15 AM - Dorian: I see you’re awake. Nightmares?

12:16 AM Arabella: You’re my nightmare.

12:16 AM Dorian: Hardly. I’m helping you.