The morning sun cast its soft glow over the crimson surface of Blood Lake, turning the eerie waters into something almost beautiful. Evelina stood on the rocky shore, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, trying to steel herself for the plunge. The lake wasn’t water—it was blood. Thick, dark, and unnerving. The metallic tang in the air was overwhelming, and the thought of diving into it churned her stomach.

“How am I supposed to do this?” Evelina muttered to herself, pacing along the edge. “It’s not like I can just... breathe in blood.”

She knelt, hesitating as her reflection rippled back at her. The crown in her bag was her mission, her responsibility. The Water Stone was somewhere beneath this lake, and she was the only one who could retrieve it. The thought didn’t make it any easier.

Evelina straightened, determination flickering in her eyes. She closed them, whispering a spell she’d learned from an old grimoire. As the incantation left her lips, a faint shimmer surrounded her.

“A water-breathing spell,” she whispered, testing the shield around her mouth. “Here goes nothing.”

Without another word, she jumped into the lake, the blood enveloping her instantly.

Evelina sank deeper, the warmth of the blood unnerving as it flowed past her skin. The spell held, allowing her to breathe, but her heart raced. She could see nothing except an endless red abyss until faint golden lights began to glow beneath her.

It rose from the depths, grand and ancient, its towering statues carved in the likeness of the ancient vampire kings and queens. Evelina swam closer, her eyes wide. The statues were untouched by the blood. The entire temple was surrounded by an invisible barrier, the blood swirling harmlessly around it.

“How is this even possible?” Evelina murmured, touching the edge of the barrier. It felt warm, almost alive.

Inside, the air was dry and cold. Evelina stepped cautiously, her boots echoing against the stone floor. The statues loomed over her, their expressions regal and terrifying. Her gaze landed on an altar at the center of the room, and there it was—the Water Stone.

The stone pulsed faintly, a deep cerulean color, as if it held the essence of pure water within. It was smooth, round, and fit perfectly into the crown. Evelina picked it up carefully, feeling a surge of energy as it touched her skin.

“The barrier must be because of this,” she guessed. “Whoever built this temple... they wanted the stone protected.”

Sliding the stone into the crown, Evelina watched it glow brightly. She didn’t have time to admire it for long. She needed to get out.

As Evelina emerged from the lake, drenched in blood but alive, she froze. Helena stood on the shore, waiting for her.

“So, you managed to survive,” Helena said, her voice smooth but dripping with malice.

Evelina clutched the crown tightly. “I don’t have time for you, Helena.”

Helena smirked, her eyes turning dark, veins creeping along her temples. Her fangs elongated as she stepped closer. “You escaped me once, Evelina. But not this time.”

She lunged, her movements swift and deadly. Evelina stumbled back, clutching the crown like a shield. As Helena’s claws reached for her, the crown erupted in light. The force threw Helena backward, sending her skidding across the rocky ground.

“What... is this?” Helena hissed, glaring at Evelina.

But Evelina didn’t stick around to answer. By the time Helena steadied herself, Evelina was gone.
Helena stepped into the Cavern of Eternity, her anger barely contained. The cavern was alive with strange, sentient flora that hissed and whispered as she walked past. She waved her hand, and a portal closed behind her.

“This changes nothing,” she muttered, her voice cold. “The crown won’t save her for long.”

That evening, Lysandra leaned against the wall of her room, watching Isabella. She is casting the locations spell by holding Lysandra's parents documents.

"I've found something." Isabella shout in excitement.

Lysandra raised an eyebrow.

“I found the name of the town,” Isabella said. “Where your parents might be.”

Lysandra’s playful expression faltered, replaced by something more serious. “And?”

“We’re going tonight. After the event.”

Lysandra nodded, her eyes sharp. “Then we better not miss the event, right?”

“Right,” Isabella agreed, grabbing her cloak.

The grand hall shimmered with an ethereal glow as students gathered for the long-awaited event. Chandeliers cast golden light across the room, and the air buzzed with excitement. Isabella stood beside Phillip, her heart pounding, though she wore a calm smile. Tonight, the Mirror of Fate would decide their dance partners, an ancient tradition of Mecatopia.

Professor Adams stepped forward, his voice echoing in the hall. "Students, the time has come. Approach the Mirror of Fate, and ask the question: ‘Fate mirror, according to you, are we a couple for the dance?’ Let the mirror guide you."

The first to step forward was Salena Varro, her gown shimmering like moonlight. With a smirk, she extended her hand towards Edwart. "Fate mirror, according to you, are we a couple for the dance?" she asked, her voice trembling.

The mirror rippled like water before solidifying, its surface glowing with words:
"According to the Mirror of Fate, Salena and Edwart are a couple."

Edwart beamed, and the hall erupted in applause.

Next, Lysandra, her auburn-black curls bouncing, walked forward with Erik. Isabella clapped eagerly, whispering to Phillip, "She’s so nervous. This is her moment."

Lysandra steadied herself. "Fate mirror, according to you, are we a couple for the dance?"

The mirror responded in its deep, echoing voice:
"According to the Mirror of Fate, Lysandra and Erik are a couple."

Lysandra blushed as the hall cheered for them.

Maria followed, walking beside Lucious, her hands trembling. "Fate mirror, according to you, are we a couple for the dance?"

The mirror shimmered again:
"According to the Mirror of Fate, Maria and Lucious are a couple."

Maria smiled shyly, Lucious nodding in agreement.

Finally, it was Isabella’s turn. She stepped forward, her hand clasped firmly in Phillip’s. The room fell silent, anticipation thick in the air. Isabella took a deep breath. "Fate mirror, according to you, are we a couple for the dance?"

The mirror darkened for a moment, its surface cracking slightly before fading into dullness. No words appeared.

The silence was deafening. Isabella’s radiant smile faltered, replaced by an expression of confusion and sadness. Phillip’s jaw tightened, his eyes dark.

Professor Adams cleared his throat, stepping in to ease the tension. "If the Mirror of Fate does not choose a pair, you must try with another partner. Isabella, please."

Reluctantly, Isabella turned to Felix, who stood nearby. He offered his hand, his face calm. With hesitation, she asked again, "Fate mirror, according to you, are we a couple for the dance?"

This time, the mirror glowed brightly:
"According to the Mirror of Fate, Isabella and Felix are a couple."

The hall erupted in applause, but Phillip, his face clouded with anger, turned on his heel and stormed out. Isabella’s gaze followed him, her sadness evident, but she stayed composed.

Meanwhile, Aurora stepped forward with her fae boyfriend, Ravaan. They approached the mirror confidently. "Fate mirror, according to you, are we a couple for the dance?" Aurora asked.

The mirror’s voice boomed:
"According to the Mirror of Fate, Aurora and Ravaan are not a couple."

Aurora’s face fell, her wings drooping slightly. Ravaan looked equally disheartened.

Professor Adams interjected, "Aurora, you will try with Andrew."

Andrew stepped forward reluctantly. The two glared at each other. "This is ridiculous," Aurora muttered.

"I couldn’t agree more," Andrew shot back.

Aurora rolled her eyes and asked, "Fate mirror, according to you, are we a couple for the dance?"

The mirror shimmered:
"According to the Mirror of Fate, Aurora and Andrew are a couple."

Andrew groaned. "Unbelievable."

Aurora crossed her arms, muttering under her breath. Their bickering provided a moment of lightheartedness amidst the tension.

Meanwhile, Lysandra noticed Isabella’s distress and gently took her hand. "Come with me," she whispered, leading Isabella out of the grand hall and into the makeup room. "You need a moment."

(The room is dimly lit, the vanity lights casting a golden glow. Isabella stands before the mirror, her hands gripping the edge of the table as she stares at her reflection. Her face is painted with anger and confusion, her yellow gown shimmering as she paces in frustration. Lysandra, perched on the edge of a nearby chair, watches her friend with a calm but concerned expression.)

Isabella: (snapping) "Why didn’t the Fate Mirror choose Phillip? We’ve loved each other for so long! This doesn’t make sense!"

Lysandra: (calmly standing and approaching) "Perhaps there’s something you don’t know about him. Or maybe… your love isn’t as real as you think it is. At least, not from his side."

Isabella: (turning sharply, her eyes blazing) "How dare you say that! Phillip loves me. I know it. We’re meant to be!"

Lysandra: (crossing her arms, unshaken) "I’m just saying… maybe there’s more to this than you see. The mirror doesn’t lie, Isabella."

(Isabella groans in frustration and throws her makeup brush onto the table. She exhales sharply, shaking her head.)

Isabella: "I don’t want to go to the dance with Felix. That’s final!"

(At that moment, Felix appears at the door, dressed in a sleek black tuxedo. His gaze is steady but carries a hint of sadness. Isabella freezes, caught off guard.)

Felix: (softly, from the doorway) "It’s okay, Isabella. I get it."

Isabella: (quickly turning to him, defensive) "Felix, it’s nothing like that! I just… I wasn’t expecting this."

Felix: (forcing a faint smile, his voice calm but tinged with disappointment) "It seems like something, though." (He pauses, glancing at Lysandra before stepping inside.) "But we’re getting late for the event. Let’s just… go."

(Isabella hesitates, glancing back at Lysandra, who gives her a small, knowing shrug. Felix offers his arm. Isabella reluctantly takes it, avoiding his gaze as they leave the room together.)

Lysandra watches them leave, her eyes filled with a mix of pity and curiosity. She whispers to herself as the door closes behind them.

Lysandra: "The mirror might see more than any of us do."