Music recommendation: "Royalty" by Neoni
The ball was still in full swing, music drifting through the halls of the palace like a haunting melody, but Asher had stopped paying attention to it hours ago. His gaze had shifted constantly over the dance floor, to the nobles fawning for attention, to the eligible women tossing glances toward the throne. But what had started as mere observation had quickly become irritation when he noticed one particular face missing from the crowd.
Zarafea.
His jaw tightened, an uneasy feeling gnawing at him. It wasn't like her to disappear—at least not after the display she had put on tonight. His suspicions flared as he stood from the throne, ignoring the curious looks from the lords and ladies as he descended the dais and weaved through the mass of people. Their whispers followed him, but he didn't care. Something wasn't right.
After a few inquiries with a sharp tone, a maid stammered that the mysterious woman had requested to be shown to the powder room. He didn't need to ask twice to know something was wrong. Asher followed the maid's directions, the noise of the ball fading behind him as he moved into the quieter corridors of the palace.
He found her on a balcony, her figure silhouetted against the night. Even from a distance, he could see the tremor in her posture, the tension in her limbs. Her back was turned to him, and he paused, watching for a moment longer than he intended.
"I can feel you glaring at me, Asher," Zarafea murmured without turning around.
Asher's lips twisted into a wry smile. "Is sneaking away your way of keeping up appearances?" His voice carried the same cool, detached tone he had perfected over the years.
Zarafea exhaled heavily, her grip tightening on the stone railing. "I needed a moment," she admitted, though there was an undercurrent to her words that made Asher narrow his eyes.
"A moment?" He stepped forward, his suspicions sharpening. "You're too clever to think that disappearing wouldn't draw attention. What's really going on?"
Zarafea turned slightly, just enough for him to see the exhaustion in her eyes, the faint pallor of her usually radiant skin. "I can't stay here much longer," she said softly, her voice taut with strain. "It's taking too much—just being here, like this."
Asher's gaze darkened, his suspicion deepening. "Is this some kind of game? You knew what we agreed on. You appear, you play your part."
"I am playing my part," she snapped, but the sharpness in her tone wavered, betraying her fatigue. "But this body... It's not natural for me. It takes more magic than you know to remain corporeal. I... I can't sustain it."
The admission caught him off guard, though he didn't let it show. His eyes scanned her again, taking in the faint sheen of sweat on her brow, the subtle tremble in her hands.
"And you didn't think to mention this before now?" Asher's tone was cold, though there was a flicker of understanding beneath it.
Zarafea's shoulders slumped slightly, and for the first time since he had known her, she seemed... fragile. "I thought I could manage. I was wrong."
The silence between them was heavy, tension hanging in the air like a storm ready to break. Asher's mind raced. Zarafea was clearly pushing herself to the brink, and if she collapsed in front of the entire court, it would raise questions—questions neither of them wanted to answer.
Without another word, Asher called over a maid, his voice a low, threatening whisper as he gave his instructions. "Take her to a room in my quarters. If you speak a word of this to anyone, I'll make sure you regret it."
The maid nodded hastily, her face pale, and hurried off to prepare the room.
Zarafea gave him a hard look, about to protest, but Asher cut her off with a sharp gesture. "Go. You're no use to anyone if you collapse in front of the entire kingdom."
She swallowed her pride and followed the maid, though her steps were sluggish, each one more labored than the last. Asher watched her go, his expression unreadable, but the flicker of concern in his eyes was brief and quickly masked.
By the time Zarafea reached the room, her entire body felt like lead. She barely made it to the bed before her legs gave out beneath her, and she collapsed onto the soft sheets, gasping for breath. Every ounce of magic she had left was being used to hold this form together, and it was slipping from her grasp.
With a trembling sigh, she let go.
Her soul slipped out of her body, floating through the air like a wisp of smoke before reappearing in her cave in the Nightmare Dimension. Her true form, tattered and weary, slumped against the cold stone floor as the weight of her failure pressed down on her.
The illusionary double she had left behind in the mortal world shimmered for a brief moment before flickering out entirely. In the dim light of her cave, Zarafea could feel the pulse of the magic that bound her here, the ever-present reminder of her imprisonment. She had risked everything for one night of freedom, one night to remind herself of who she had been.
And now she was paying the price.
Her body was too weak to move, too drained to fight the voices that always crept into her mind when she was alone in the Nightmare Dimension.
"You'll never be free."
"You can't save them."
"You've failed."
Zarafea squeezed her eyes shut, her breathing ragged as she fought against the voices, trying to drown them out. "I'll free them," she whispered through gritted teeth. "I have to."
But the weight of Helios' magic was too much. She collapsed fully, her body curling in on itself as the darkness overtook her.
For now, she was hidden. For now, Helios was unaware. But the clock was ticking, and Zarafea knew she couldn't keep up this charade forever.