The air was crisp, and the faint scent of roses lingered as Phillip guided Isabella forward with her eyes closed. His hands rested gently over hers, leading her carefully. She giggled softly, trying to guess where he was taking her.

“Phillip,” she teased, “where are we going? This is torture.”

“You’ll see, my love. Just a few more steps,” Phillip whispered into her ear, his voice as soft as the snowflakes falling around them.

They stopped. Phillip’s hands left hers briefly, and she felt a chill where his warmth had been.

“Open your eyes, Isabella,” he said, his voice deep and filled with anticipation.

As she opened her eyes, a gasp escaped her lips. Before her was a breathtaking scene snow blanketed the ground, glistening under the soft glow of hundreds of candles arranged in a perfect circle. Around them, crimson roses bloomed against the whiteness of the snow, their color vibrant and bold. Above her, a circular roof of mirrors reflected the scene, making the space feel endless.

Her eyes widened as they landed on the centerpiece: a small pedestal surrounded by rose petals, holding a delicate locket that sparkled with a golden glow.

“Phillip…” Isabella’s voice broke, her hand flying to her mouth.

“I wanted to give you a moment that matches your beauty, Isabella,” Phillip said, stepping closer to her. His crimson eyes softened, and a smile tugged at his lips. “You deserve more than words could ever express.”

Isabella turned to face him, her eyes shimmering with tears of joy. “This is… I can’t believe you did all this. It’s perfect.”

Phillip reached for the locket, lifting it from its velvet resting place. The delicate chain gleamed in the candlelight, and the tiny charm was shaped like a rose. He held it up, his gaze never leaving hers.

“This locket is more than a gift,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. “It holds a piece of my soul, Isabella. My mother gave this to my sister in childhood."

Isabella tease him "and you steal it." Both chukles.

Phillip replied "My sister gave it to me yesterday for giving it to you. She really likes you. Ans she wants to mee you at my home, dinner tonight!

"Oh, So Sweet to her." Isabella replies.

"You are my heart, my fire, my reason for everything. May I wear it to you?”

She sees him first time like that happy, childish and energetic. She is also smiling with him.

She nodded, her smile radiant“Yes, Phillip. Please.”

He moved behind her, brushing her silver hair aside to clasp the locket around her neck. His fingers lingered on her shoulders for a moment before he turned her back to face him.

“How does it feel?” he asked, his tone teasing but warm.

“It feels like love,” she whispered, touching the charm with her fingertips.

Snow continued to fall around them, the world silent except for the soft crackle of the candles. Phillip cupped her face, his thumbs brushing her cheeks.

“I would give you the world, Isabella,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “But for now, I’ll settle for this moment.”

She smiled up at him, her breath visible in the cold air. “You’ve already given me more than I could ever dream of, Phillip.”

He leaned in slowly, his forehead resting against hers. Their breaths mingled as he whispered, “I love you, Isabella.”

“I love you too, Phillip,” she replied, her voice trembling.

Their lips met, soft and slow at first, then deepening as the cold air around them seemed to melt. Time stood still as they kissed, surrounded by the beauty Phillip had created for her.

When they finally pulled apart, Phillip reached for two crystal glasses filled with wine he had prepared. He handed her one, raising his own in a toast.

“To us,” he said.

“To us,” she echoed, clinking her glass against his.

They sipped the wine, warmth spreading through them as they stood together, celebrating their love. Isabella laughed softly, her cheeks flushed with happiness.

“This is the happiest I’ve ever been,” she said, leaning against him.

Phillip wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as they gazed at the falling snow. “It’s only the beginning, my love.”

And in that moment, surrounded by snow, roses, and candlelight, their love felt eternal.

The house stood eerily silent, a place far removed from the chaos of Mecatopia. Lysandra leaned against the marble countertop, her gold brown hair glinting under the dim chandelier lights. She swirled her glass of wine and laughed at Lucian’s dry wit. They were both dressed for the night—a tight black dress hugging her curves, while Lucian sported a sleek black shirt unbuttoned at the collar, oozing charm.

She didn’t know this wasn’t just any mansion. She didn’t know this was Phillip’s house.

The music echoed through the room, a low, sensual beat. Lucian watched her as she danced, her movements carefree, unaware of the danger coiled beside her.

Lucian stepped closer, his piercing gaze locking onto her. “You know, Lysandra, there’s something about you—so wild, so… intoxicating.”

Lysandra grinned, her cheeks flushed. “Flattery suits you, Lucian.”

Before she could react, his hand lightly touched hers. His voice dropped, smooth as velvet, tinged with compulsion. “Relax. You trust me, don’t you?”

Her expression softened, her body stiffened momentarily, then melted into compliance. “I do…” she murmured.

Lucian’s smile widened, revealing the faintest glimpse of his fangs. “Good.”

He lifted her wrist to his lips, sinking his fangs into her pale skin. The crimson blood trickled down her arm as Lucian fed, his dark eyes flickering with satisfaction. The room filled with the sound of the music, but for a moment, it felt like time itself had stopped.

The front door swung open, and Phillip entered. His steps halted instantly, his eyes narrowing as he saw Lysandra in Lucian’s arms, blood dripping from her hand.

“Lucian!” Phillip’s voice thundered, filled with both rage and disbelief.

Lucian turned to him, still holding Lysandra close, a smirk curling on his lips. “Brother, you’re home. You should’ve told me you’d be joining us.”

Phillip stormed across the room, his sharp gaze flickering between them. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, his tone seething.

Lucian laughed, licking the remaining blood from his lips. “Relax, dear brother. She’s fine. See?” He motioned to Lysandra, who stared blankly, still under his compulsion.

Phillip knelt beside her, gently taking her bleeding hand. “Lysandra,” he said softly, “Are you okay? Let me help you.”

But as he reached for her, she pulled away abruptly, her voice detached. “You can’t touch me… unless he gives me permission.”

Phillip’s breath hitched, his eyes widening. “Lucian, let her go. Now.”

Lucian shrugged, pouring himself another drink. “Oh, come now, Phillip. You should thank me. I’m simply enjoying your delightful little friend.”

“What do you want?” Phillip growled. “Just tell me, and leave her alone.”

Lucian tilted his head, his smile dripping with malice. “Anything?”

Phillip’s jaw tightened. “You have my word.”

Lucian’s grin darkened. “Then I want this… I want to compel you to remember.”

Phillip’s eyes widened in shock. “Remember what?”

Lucian stepped closer, his tone dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Your past, brother. The bloodshed. The darkness. The monster you were. Drinking from humans, slaughtering without a care, wielding magic that could rip apart armies… and loving every moment of it.”

Phillip’s chest heaved, his hands curling into fists. “I’m not that vampire anymore. I’ve changed.”

Lucian chuckled, circling him like a predator. “Changed? No, you’ve buried it. But it’s still there, Phillip. Lurking under all that guilt and self-loathing. You’re just too much of a coward to face it.”

Phillip clenched his jaw, his voice shaking with suppressed rage. “I won’t do this. I won’t turn back into that… thing.”

Lucian smirked, leaning close. “You’re not like me, are you? No… you’re worse. Because you’re a fool who thinks love will save him.” His gaze flickered to Lysandra. “Witches, humans—they’re nothing but fragile little thorns, destined to wither.”

Phillip stood firm. “Leave her out of this.”

Lucian’s expression turned mocking. “Oh, don’t worry, brother. She’s quite entertaining.” He turned back to Lysandra, his hand brushing her cheek. “Shall we dance?”

Phillip’s fists trembled, but he stepped back, his voice tight. “This isn’t over, Lucian.”

Lucian raised his glass in mock salute. “I look forward to it.”

As the music rose again, Phillip stormed out, leaving Lucian spinning Lysandra across the floor, his laughter echoing through the house like a haunting melody.

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑝𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡. 𝐵𝑖𝑟𝑑𝑠 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑝𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑑𝑦, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡 𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑑𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠. 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑎 𝑠𝑎𝑡 𝑐𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑠-𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑓𝑡 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑠, ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟’𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑛 𝑗𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑎𝑝. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑚 𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠, 𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑗𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑖𝑡𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒.

𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ, 𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑛𝑜 𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝑗𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙, 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑓𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑡, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑘𝑒𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑢𝑛𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑔𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑐 𝐸𝑐𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠𝑒 𝑆𝑢𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑠.

𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑑 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓, ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔.
" 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐵𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓 𝐿𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑘. 1475, 𝑀𝑜𝑛𝑡ℎ 𝑜𝑓 𝐵𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝐷𝑎𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝐸𝑐𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒..."

𝐴𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑟. 𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑡 𝑎 𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑙, 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑑𝑖𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑑, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑗𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙’𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑔𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦.

𝐻𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑑.
“𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠?” 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑, 𝑐𝑙𝑢𝑡𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑗𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑡𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑙𝑦.

𝑆𝑢𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑙𝑦, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦. 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑎 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑟𝑜𝑏𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑚𝑛, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑐𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑎 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓—𝑛𝑜 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑙𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑐𝑖𝑟𝑐𝑙𝑒, 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠.

"𝑁𝑜," 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑎 𝑚𝑢𝑟𝑚𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑑, ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔. "𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑛’𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙."

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟, 𝑎𝑠 𝑣𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑠𝑜𝑛, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒𝑠 𝑎 ℎ𝑎𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑒. 𝐴𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑐 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑖𝑟𝑐𝑙𝑒, 𝑔𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑟𝑦𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑠, 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑦 𝑜𝑟𝑏𝑠, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑟𝑢𝑛𝑒𝑠.

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑎 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑓𝑖𝑔𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟, 𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠.
"𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑔𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑜𝑟𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒. 𝑇𝑜𝑑𝑎𝑦, 𝑤𝑒 𝑏𝑖𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑦."

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑎 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑.
"𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒," 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑, ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔. "𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛’𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠."

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑔𝑛𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎. 𝑊𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑝 𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑠 𝑔𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑒𝑟, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑣𝑖𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑔𝑦.

"𝑁𝑜! 𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑝!" 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑎 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑒𝑑, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑛𝑜 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑟.

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛. 𝐹𝑜𝑟𝑏𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑛𝑒𝑐𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑦 𝑓𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑖𝑟, 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑟𝑖𝑙𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑢𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑔𝑦 𝑡𝑤𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑑, 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑎. 𝐻𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑦 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑝𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑟, 𝑤𝑟𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠.

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟’𝑠 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑎 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟.
“𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑙; 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑐𝑒.”

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑎 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑤 𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑎𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘. 𝐻𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟, 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑎 𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑛𝑢𝑡 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑛, 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘, 𝑎 𝑝ℎ𝑦𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑓𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ ℎ𝑒𝑟.

𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑎, 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑡 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒.
"𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛’𝑡 𝑎𝑠𝑘 𝑚𝑒," 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑. "𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑔𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑎 𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒."

𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑣𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑝𝑠𝑒𝑑, ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑦 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑓𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑑, 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑝𝑎𝑙𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑. 𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑎 𝑚𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑛, 𝑎 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑦.

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑙𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟, 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡.
"𝐼𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑒. 𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐵𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑤."

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑣𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑙𝑢𝑟, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑔𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝑓𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑠𝑚𝑜𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑑. 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑎 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑗𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑐𝑙𝑢𝑡𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠. 𝐻𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑔𝑎𝑠𝑝𝑠, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑝𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦.

𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑗𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙, ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔.
"𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜...𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠," 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑖𝑑, ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑐𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔. "𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠𝑛’𝑡 𝑏𝑜𝑟𝑛 𝑎 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑐𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒."

𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒, 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑎 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑝𝑡ℎ𝑠 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑜 𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑦 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑠𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟. 𝐻𝑒𝑟 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑛𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑎 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑦; 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑛, 𝑎 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑐𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑢𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒.