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12:17 AM Arabella: Helping me?

12:17 AM Dorian: Evermore has passageways you don’t know about. Lots of them. You shouldn’t be out of bed.

12:18 AM Arabella: If you’re trying to scare me, it’s not working.

I turned at the sound of footsteps, breath catching. The candlelight barely reached the far end of the corridor, but the darkness wasn’t empty. A shadow moved, detaching from the archway ahead, materializing like he had been there all along.

Dorian approached, one hand in his pocket, the other still holding his slate, the faint glow of the screen illuminating the tips of his fingers. He didn’t look at it. The longer he studied me, the more I had the distinct, suffocating sensation that he was seeing straight through me.

“What are you doing up?” His head tilted, eyebrows furrowing. “The school grounds are dangerous at night. I saw you with Darkblood.”

Moonlight spilled through the high windows, washing over his cheekbones and turning his violet irises to liquid indigo. His expression remained neutral, but something lurked beneath it, like he wanted to know if I regretted it, like he wanted to know if I’d do it again.

I forced my spine straighter. “I didn’t realize I had to report my whereabouts to you.

” I crossed my arms, not just to match his stance but to keep myself from shaking.

My voice sounded steadier than I felt. Inside I was unraveling, my thoughts fragmenting like shards of pointed glass.

They drove deep into the fragile parts of me.

I hoped I hadn’t made a massive mistake trusting Dante.

Dorian’s mouth curved at the edges, amusement tracing his features, though his eyes didn’t change. “I’m a prefect, Davenant.” He flashed his sharp teeth. “Head of Seraphim House. They say your score is the company you keep, you know.”

“Right.” I rolled my eyes. “So, you’ve come to corrupt me instead?”

“No,” Dorian said, shifting into step. “Actually, I wanted to show you something. It’s about your mother.” My mother ?

He brushed past me without another word, his presence pulling the air with him. Despite myself, I followed. There was something about the way he moved, quiet and watchful, like he was always bracing against something. The world. I hated how much I understood it.

The moment we crossed into the corridor, the moonlight faded. The sconces along the walls flickered weakly, their flames struggling against the weight of the darkness. When we stilled, Dorian leaned against the wall, watching me.

“Well?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. Trying not to picture his teeth sinking into my neck. Trying not to imagine his arms weaving around my waist.

He didn’t speak, just dragged his gaze from my throat to my lips, as if replaying everything from last night. My skin prickled in response. His collar hung loose, one of his buttons had come undone like he’d put it on too quickly. I stepped back, wholly unaware I’d even drifted closer.

“You’re staring,” I snapped. Deflect.

He laughed softly. “It’s just above you.

” He gestured, and with the flick of his wrist the flames in their sconces grew brighter.

I turned. It was a picture frame, the glass cracked.

The ink on the photograph inside was faded, but I could see that it was an old class portrait of Evermore graduates.

Below it, on a gold plaque, was a name that didn’t belong.

Evangeline Morningstar. My mother’s maiden name. No. That wasn’t possible. I stepped forward, my fingers trembling as they brushed over the engraving, over her past. Here, as a student at Evermore.

I looked up, searching for her face in the photo. Her image had been scratched out, but I recognized her curls and the necklace around her neck. Thick, dark ink slashed through her features, erasing her from existence. She had played this game, too. What did this mean? Was she not human?

Dorian was watching me, but not with amusement this time.

“This isn’t possible,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. My fingers traced the black ink that marred her face, a sick, ugly void where she should have been. “She never mentioned Evermore. Never .”

Dorian tilted his head, watching me closely. “Maybe she wanted to protect you. ”

“Protect me?” A dry laugh broke from my throat. That couldn’t be further from the truth. “She died last week. My inheritance is locked. I get nothing unless I graduate. What part of that seems protective?” I demanded, turning to him.

“I didn’t know,” he said simply. “I’m sorry.”

“Dorian.” My stomach turned. “What does this mean? Do you think she graduated, became something…like you?”

“No.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. He was lying. I knew he was lying. “You’re asking the wrong questions, Davenant.” His fingers lifted, brushing against my wrist, his touch cold against my skin. “And trust me, you don’t want the answers.”

“Don’t do that,” I snapped.

“Do what?”

“Touch me like that. Like you know more about me—more about my life —than I do.”

His lips curved. “Maybe I do.”

My heart sped desperately. “You don’t .”

But the look in his eyes said otherwise. His voice lowered in warning . “Coming here was never a choice, Arabella. You are Luminari. You belong to this place, and really you always have. It’s in your blood.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I will never belong here.” I’d never belong anywhere, except home.

“Something tells me,” Dorian leaned in, eyes flicking up toward the photo. He was so close I could smell the peppermint on his breath, heat curling low in my stomach. “That’s what your mother thought, too.”

A shiver ran through me. I didn’t know if it was grief or hunger or exhaustion. He lingered for a moment, a hand reaching for me. Every inch of me braced, except for the part that softened. Some monstrous part of me thought he looked beautiful in the dark.

But I despised that part of myself with every inch of my being. I brushed past him, shoulder clipping his chest. It was petty, sure, something that meant nothing and too much all at once. I was delerious—delerious and tired. I didn’t want anything from Dorian Cavendish except distance.

Before I reached the first step to the girls’ wing, his voice sliced through the dark. “You run from all of this, Davenant, you’ll end up just like her. Indefinitely dead, with no promise of anything after.”

I froze, the heat rising to my cheeks. He was wrong. He had to be.

I whirled around, but Dorian was already gone, his silhouette swallowed whole by the darkened corridors.

The halls hushed around me, the air thick with the scent of old stone and candle smoke.

My eye caught the two words carved into the archway above.

Ante Post. My mother was gone. Not just gone, but erased.

No heaven, no afterlife, no lingering trace in the fabric of eternity.

Dorian had to be lying. He had to be. I dragged my slate from my pocket, the glow of the screen illuminating shaking hands. I typed furiously, each letter a desperate plea.

Ante Post. Before After.

I pressed a hand to my heart, as if my mother’s memory, her mark on this place might still be here. I had come to Evermore because that’s what she wanted. But it didn’t make any sense. If her face had been scratched out of the portrait, she didn’t belong here either.

My vision swam. I needed answers. I needed to help her if it was even possible. My mother had stood in this very hallway. My mother had been a student at Evermore, and she too had been erased.

I had spent every waking moment at Evermore so far trying to claw my way out. But standing here now, I felt something dangerous stir. Maybe the way forward wasn’t escape after all, but answers.

Still, I had already chosen. There was no place for regret. If this place had meant something to my mother, she should have left a damn note.