POV: Sloane Waylon

“Oh, sweetheart,” I heard a tiny voice say as soon as the door to my ward swung open. Two nurses bustled in, their eyes fixated in my direction as the younger one continued. “You look like you've been through a war.’”

I have.

I hadn't slept all through the night, not even a blink. I was just there, lying stiff because the moment my eyes closed, I would see him.

Her colleague clicked her tongue. “Dark circles…and you're pale as chalk. Didn't sleep at all?”

I wanted to say, ‘Yes, because a ghost king keeps showing up in my room threatening me,’ but the memory of yesterday's look, the sideways glances, and the soft whispers about me hallucinating slammed my mouth shut.

“They wouldn't believe you,” Tia murmured in my head in a very low tone. “And if they did, they would lock you up.”

Fact!

I swallowed. “Just…bad dreams,” I muttered.

They nodded like they understood, moving about the room, checking monitors and notes.

It was now or never. “Could I…get some information about someone? Anyone? Somewhere I could ... search?”

The younger nurse looked puzzled for a while. “Search? Oh! You mean online? Sure, I can bring you a phone for a few minutes.”

When she returned and handed me the device, my heart almost stopped. I froze, staring at it like it was some kind of enchanted replica.

Smooth, cold, and glowing with light as she clicked on the face with her fingers. A phone, she called it.

In my world, communication was carried by couriers or horseback or even through mind links. This…this was magic.

The nurse laughed softly in amusement. “You're acting like you've never seen one before, Elise.”

I gulped in. “I haven't,” I admitted before I could stop myself, and I knew it. She thought I was joking.

With awkward, hesitant taps, my fingers fumbled like a child as I stared hard into the screen in confusion. Surprisingly, my hands found a way to open a little box with a blinking line.

I typed his name slowly and carefully, like I would do harm to the phone if I clicked on it too hard.

“S-T-E-F-A-N J-O-A-Q-U-I-N”

And then I hit something called ‘search.’

The result made my stomach drop.

An image, grainy and old, filled the screen. A man in a dark cloak, crown in hand, silver eyes gleaming even in black and white. ‘King Stefan Joaquin,’ the headline read.

Once ruler of a Forgotten Kingdom. Brutally murdered by his own parents in a palace coup.

I gasped loudly, my eyes widening as I scrolled, each fact colder than the last. His reign, his death, the whispers of his ghost haunting the land for centuries. Rumors of him appearing desperate, making deals no sane person would accept.

My fingers went numb. “I had made no deal…had I? I wasn't desperate, was I?”

The nurse came to collect the phone, and I let her, my hands trembling in fear.

By mid-morning, I had convinced the doctor I was fine. A little pale, but fine. Just needed a walk, and even though he was adamant because of the dark circles, he still let me.

And here I was, moving down the hallway, my heart hammering in my own ear. The air grew heavier, and I got closer to the front doors.

And then… the shift.

A sharp drop in temperature and the scent coming into my nostrils.

I froze in alarm.

In the reflection of the glass exit doors, he was there. Stefan Joaquin.

Tall. Still. Silver eyes burning in the mirror in anger and awe. I didn't turn around; I couldn't breathe.

“Leaving without saying goodbye?” His voice slid into my ear, a whisper no one else could hear. “Bold. Bold enough to take such steps. Don't you think it is too…very early for you to have this deadly plan in your head? Remember, we only just met yesterday.”

My chest tightened. I had no strength for this. “Yesterday, but it felt like eternity.” I muttered underneath my breath. Something he heard.

“Did you speak to me?” His cold voice rang behind my head as I tried waving it off. “Leave me alone.”

Instead, the unexpected happened: darkness filled the glass door, and in it…blood. Dripping from hands I didn't recognize, red pooling on the floor.

A wolf pup's howl tore through the air, high and broken, until it became something like a scream. That of the younger nurse, speaking to me.

I gasped, stumbling back into the hospital's bright hallway, clutching my chest.

“Your debt,” Stefan said, “is tied to more than your life. The first thread will snap tonight if you don't act accordingly. I might let the younger nurse slide, but I wouldn't let anyone else do.”

“Thread?” My voice broke.

“And if you run again?” He leaned close enough that the cold of his presence slid into my bones. “I might not forgive… five more people.”

My knees almost buckled. “What…what does that mean? Why do you want this? Why do you want revenge? I…”

His lips curved, but there was nothing kind in it. “Check the back of your pillow. And get the rules straight. Remember you asked. If you were given a second chance. What would be the plan? This is the plan—to seek revenge.”

My lips parted with his last statement. It was true; I had said that at the last moment without thinking. And before I could reply again, he was gone. Like always.

The hallway continued with the noisy chatter of nurses. No one had noticed and I bolted back to my ward, heart pounding so loud I could barely hear my own thoughts.

The pillow was light in my hand, the case soft against my fingertips. I reached under, half-expecting nothing. Instead…paper. I saw a paper. A thick envelope.

My fingers shook as I tore it open. Do I really want revenge? Perhaps I do. But not from this man.

A single photograph slid into my lap and I stared. My breath seized.

“Finn?” My voice came out more like a whisper. “My brother?”

MIDNIGHT. DEAD DURING THE BALLERINA'S DANCE.

My room turned upside down, my heart racing in my ears as my legs weakened.

My brother should be dead tonight?