The next few days passed in a blur of routines at the hospital and carefully calculated encounters with the heirs. Seventeen moved through her double life with an ease that was almost unsettling, slipping effortlessly between the persona of Serena D'Angelo's bubbly, approachable warmth and her true, coldly manipulative nature. It had become second nature to her by now, an art she had perfected over the years. Each interaction brought her closer to her goal, weaving herself into the lives of the six like a thread in an intricate tapestry. She was no longer just a stranger in their world—she was a fixture, a constant presence they would come to rely on.
Her method was simple but effective: make them trust her. She had already planted enough seeds in their minds; now it was time to nurture them, to water the thoughts and emotions she had carefully cultivated. It wouldn't take long before they were all tied to her, willingly or not. The more she gave, the more they would take, until there was nothing left to give but the pull of her strings.
Today, as always, she was in the hospital's wide, sunlit halls, clipboard in hand. She walked with purpose, the bright fluorescent lights casting shadows on her path as she moved through the sterile, peaceful environment. The atmosphere was tranquil, almost deceptively so—a perfect cover for her scheming. Every soft click of her shoes against the polished floors was a small echo of her plans unfolding. Her day was predictable, methodical—appointments with patients, quiet moments spent in waiting rooms, all interspersed with brief, calculated encounters with the heirs.
She was due to meet Light and Claus for a quick lunch. The two were fast becoming fond of her, though she had made sure to keep her distance just enough to maintain control. They were smart, perceptive, but they were also too eager to see the best in people. The more time she spent in their company, the more she could mold their perceptions of her—and, by extension, each other. She would build a connection with them, one that would only grow stronger as time went on.
Her thoughts, however, drifted from the easy alliances she was crafting to the more complex puzzle of Draco. His cold demeanor, his relentless suspicion—he was a constant thorn in her side. He had begun to notice her, to watch her movements more closely than she had anticipated. She could feel his eyes on her more often than she cared to admit, his presence a silent challenge she couldn't afford to ignore. He was the hardest to break, the one who would question everything she did, who would test her every move. He was the one most likely to see through her carefully constructed facade, and that made him both a problem and an opportunity.
But that didn't intimidate her; it excited her.
["He thinks he can outplay me,"] she mused, her fingers tightening around the clipboard as a smirk tugged at her lips. ["He has no idea who he's dealing with. I've known him for far longer than he knows—or remembers. He's playing on my board, not the opposite."]
The thought of him, of his growing suspicion and his constant vigilance, was almost a thrill. He was a puzzle, one she would savor solving, and the more he resisted, the more satisfying it would be when she finally broke him. She wasn't in a hurry; patience was her greatest weapon, and with him, it would pay off. The seeds of doubt she had already planted in his mind would grow, slowly but surely, and when the time was right, she would pull on the strings until everything he thought he knew unraveled before him.
As she continued down the hall, her mind switched back to her lunch with Light and Claus. She needed to keep up appearances, to stay in the good graces of the others. It wasn't just about building rapport—it was about control. The more she gained their trust, the more she could use that trust to her advantage. But even as she smiled and greeted the nurses she passed, her thoughts remained divided. She was playing a game far more dangerous than they realized, and Draco was the biggest challenge of them all.
※※※
Draco was already waiting for her when Seventeen entered the small café where they were all supposed to meet. Seated at a table in the corner, he had a commanding presence, though his posture was relaxed, almost casual. His eyes, however, betrayed a different story. They were sharp, calculating, and every time they flicked toward her, there was an intensity that bordered on the predatory. It was as if he were assessing her every move, every breath she took, searching for something he could latch onto. Seventeen had known that this meeting would be a challenge, but she hadn't realized just how closely Draco would be watching her.
["Here I thought it would be just me, Light, and Claus."]
Light arrived moments later, the complete opposite of Draco in many ways. She had a warmth about her, a natural charm that made her easy to like. Her smile was wide and effortless, and she moved with an energy that was welcoming. She greeted the others as she walked to the table, a slight bounce in her step. Claus followed shortly after, his laughter ringing through the café and brightening the atmosphere as he greeted them all. The contrast between their reactions to Serena was immediately obvious. Claus, ever the social butterfly, had already taken a liking to her, and Light, while more reserved, seemed intrigued by her energy, drawn to her warmth despite her usually guarded instincts.
Draco, however, remained a constant outlier. His demeanor was distant, and there was a coolness about him that couldn't be ignored. His eyes remained locked on Seventeen as she approached, unwavering, as if waiting for her to make a misstep, just so he could pounce. He didn't trust her, and that was a sentiment Seventeen was going to have to work around. He was cold as ice, and every time their eyes met, she could feel his skepticism radiating off him, testing her every move, every word.
"Serena!" Claus called out with a wave, his voice full of enthusiasm. "We've saved you a seat."
Seventeen smiled at him, a brilliant and practiced expression, the warmth in her demeanor never faltering. As she made her way over to the table, a flicker of sarcasm passed through her thoughts, her mind always working, always calculating. ["Ah, the prince in shining armor, ever the gentleman. So predictable."] She couldn't help but find it amusing, how easy it was to play the role of the ideal companion in this group. They were all so quick to embrace her, but none of them saw her for who she truly was—not yet.
"Thank you, Claus," she said warmly, letting her voice carry just the right amount of gratitude as she settled into the seat they had saved for her. "It's been a hectic morning at the hospital. This is exactly what I needed." She allowed her words to settle into the conversation, the perfect mix of exhaustion and relief. It was believable, of course. It was the perfect excuse to explain her presence here.
As the group settled into the flow of their meeting, Seventeen kept her focus sharp, watching her companions intently. Claus, with his effortless charisma, was clearly the glue that kept this group together. He was the one who could easily blend into any situation, make anyone feel at ease. Light, on the other hand, was sharp and cautious. She wasn't as easily won over as the others, but there was an intrigue in her eyes that Seventeen could work with. The walls were slowly coming down, and soon Light would be another ally. Then there was Draco. Seventeen couldn't help but see him as her greatest challenge. His skepticism, his ceaseless questioning—it was exhausting. He was waiting for her to slip, and every time he looked at her, she could feel the pressure mounting. He wasn't fooled by her act, and that would be the biggest hurdle she'd have to overcome.
Her attention shifted briefly, almost involuntarily, to the drinks they had all ordered. It was a subtle thing, almost invisible to anyone else, but Seventeen noticed everything, and it wasn't just about the drinks themselves—it was about what those choices said about each of them. It was another layer to her observation, another insight into their personalities, their upbringing, their districts. She had studied every little detail about each of the districts meticulously, including the smallest habits, the choices they made. And this, their drink selections, was no exception.
Claus had chosen a coffee that screamed luxury and indulgence. The Imperious Cold Brew, a cold brew steeped with rose petals and infused with gold lavender syrup, was the kind of drink one might expect from someone raised in the royal district. It was sophisticated, extravagant, and hinted at a life of privilege and opulence. Light, true to her district, had opted for the Aries Flat Black, a pure, unfiltered dark roast. It was strong and bold, much like the people of Aries themselves. There was no pretense, no extra flair—just the power of the coffee itself. Hunter's drink was as exotic as he was. The Adventurer's Cappuccino, topped with chai spices and served with a side of dry fruit, had a certain mystique to it, much like the Sagittarius-born themselves. Then Amelia had picked an Ironworker's Latte, a hearty and filling choice, with oat milk, cocoa, and a touch of blackstrap molasses. It was grounded, strong, and spoke of a practical, no-nonsense nature. And Sablina's choice was a Clarity Flat White, a smooth flat white made with almond milk, served alongside a slice of gluten-free banana bread. It was delicate, refined, and as thoughtful as the Virgo-born woman herself.
Seventeen couldn't help but scoff internally at Sablina's choice. ["How Virgo of her,"] she thought, the sarcasm bubbling up before she quickly buried it behind a carefully maintained smile. It was almost too perfect—Virgo in every sense of the word.
But it was Draco's choice that intrigued Seventeen the most. He had chosen a Whiteland's Golden Latte, a turmeric-spiced latte with a shot of honey and steamed milk. The drink itself was elegant, balanced, and artisanal, much like the people from his district. It was simple yet refined, embodying the very essence of Whiteland. ["Elegant, balanced, artisanal,"] Seventeen mused with a mental smirk. ["Not a cell in his body denies his heritage."] It was exactly the kind of choice she had expected from him—nothing that deviated from his roots, no room for deviation, no room for anything unexpected. It was perfectly Draco.
Seventeen's thoughts briefly turned inward as she considered her own choice. If she had been herself—if she had allowed herself to indulge—she would have picked a Traveler's Mocha. It was made with dark chocolate, cinnamon, and a hint of chili, a drink as bold and layered as her true self. But she wasn't here as herself. She was Serena, and Serena could have no flaws, no deviations from the perfect image she needed to maintain. She was here to blend in, to become part of the fabric of this group, and so she chose what Serena would choose as a healer from Cancer. A Seaside Cappuccino, a creamy cappuccino with a hint of sea salt and caramel drizzle. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't good either. It was the least terrible of the limited options from the Cancer district, a drink that had become a part of her persona, something she could pretend to love. She couldn't understand why so many people adored it, but then again, it wasn't for her to understand. All she could do was pretend that drinking it felt like home, even though it felt anything but.
The conversation around the table flowed easily, mostly led by Claus, who seemed intent on entertaining them all with stories of court life in Imperious. He regaled them with tales of royal feasts, extravagant events, and the intricacies of noble life. Seventeen played her part flawlessly, laughing at the right moments, chiming in with lighthearted banter when needed. It was easy, so easy to slip into the role of the charming, personable companion. She had done it so many times before, with so many people.
But beneath the surface, her mind never stopped calculating. It was always planning, always working a step ahead, looking for the cracks in the façade she had to maintain. Even as she laughed and smiled, a small part of her was already preparing her next move, analyzing how best to manipulate the others, to use their strengths and weaknesses against them when the time came. All while hating every sip she had to take from her Seaside Cappuccino, her mind buzzing with how much longer she would have to pretend to enjoy it.
※※※
Draco's gaze never left Serena. His eyes tracked her every move, the way her fingers wrapped around the fragile porcelain cup, the way her lips curled into a smile when she spoke. She was playing a part, and Draco could see it clearly. Every gesture, every word, every laugh—it was all carefully performed, calculated, like a well-rehearsed act. But there was something about it, something about the way she carried herself, that irked him. He could sense that she was hiding something, that she wasn't being entirely honest. He'd been around enough people to spot a fake smile, to detect the slight shifts in behavior when someone wasn't quite as comfortable as they pretended to be. And Serena—she was all nerves beneath that polished exterior.
The others, however, seemed to be oblivious. Light, as always, kept her guard up, her keen eyes never resting for too long on anyone, but she wasn't as fully relaxed as Claus. Claus, ever the social butterfly, was laughing and chatting effortlessly, completely taken by Serena's charm. He was practically eating out of the palm of her hand, oblivious to the tension that hung in the air between her and Draco. Claus was too quick to warm up to people, too trusting. It made Draco want to be even more cautious. The ease with which the others accepted Serena made him wary—there had to be more to her story than she was letting on. His instincts, honed from years of reading people and situations, told him that something wasn't adding up.
Serena's laughter rang out in response to one of Claus' jokes, light and melodic, but Draco remained unmoved. He shifted slightly in his seat, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest as his eyes never left her. He couldn't shake the feeling that she was playing a game, but he didn't yet know the rules. One thing he did know, though, was that he didn't like it. Something about her—her too-perfect smile, the way she shifted just a little too quickly to avoid the deeper conversations—felt off. And Draco always trusted his gut. It had never steered him wrong before.
His patience was wearing thin. If she was going to put on this performance, he figured he might as well call her out on it. His voice sliced through the conversation with surgical precision, pulling everyone's attention to him. "So, Serena," he began, his tone casual but loaded with a subtle challenge, "how long have you been in Downtown Zodiac?"
The question seemed innocent enough on the surface, but there was an underlying tension in his voice, a sharpness that was hard to ignore. It wasn't a question that needed answering—no one was really curious—but Draco wasn't asking for information. He was watching her carefully, gauging her reaction. Claus fell silent at the shift in the conversation, his eyes flickering between them, sensing the sudden change in atmosphere. The playful chatter had stopped, replaced by something much heavier.
Seventeen didn't falter. She smiled at Draco, and the facade of ease returned instantly. "Oh, just a few weeks now," she replied, her voice soft and light, almost too much so. She leaned slightly forward, her gaze never wavering from his, as if she were trying to convince him of something. "It's been quite the adjustment, but I'm starting to feel at home."
Her words were calm, practiced even, but Draco's eyes narrowed. He didn't believe her, not for a second. He could tell she wasn't being truthful—he just couldn't figure out what exactly she was hiding yet. There was something off about the way she spoke, something too rehearsed. And that smile—it didn't quite reach her eyes.
["Liar."] Draco's mind whispered the word to himself. The accusation hung in the air, silent but heavy. He could sense that she was pretending, but why? And if she was lying, what was the reason behind it? He scanned her face for any sign of a slip, anything that would give her away, but she was good. Too good. For a moment, his gaze flickered down to the coffee she was holding—her cup of Loveliar's Seaside Cappuccino—and his lip curled in mild disdain.
["Is she forcing herself to drink that sea-piss excuse of a coffee, or am I imagining it?"] he thought, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he observed her body language. He didn't have solid proof yet, but his instincts were telling him there was more to this than met the eye. And Serena… Serena was the key.
Light, sensing the change in energy, decided to speak up. "And you're from Loveliar, right?" Her voice was much more measured now, her curiosity piqued by the brief shift in the conversation. There was no accusation in her tone, but there was an undeniable sense of scrutiny that made the air around them feel heavier.
Serena nodded, never missing a beat. Her expression remained warm, unbothered, even though Draco could see the faintest flicker of something in her eyes—a momentary flash of discomfort, quickly masked by another well-practiced smile. "Yes, born and raised," she said smoothly, her voice unwavering. "It's a beautiful place, though much quieter than here."
Her words were the perfect response, calm and sincere, but Draco wasn't fooled. The lie was still there, hiding beneath the surface, and he wasn't going to let it go. He didn't speak, didn't ask her more questions, but his thoughts churned as he leaned back, taking in every subtle movement of her face, every shift in her posture. If she was lying—if she was hiding something—he would figure it out. It was only a matter of time.
But the coffee—her coffee—that was an issue. Draco couldn't understand how anyone could drink something so bland, so weak. It was as though she was intentionally choosing to suffer through it, forcing herself to fit in, even when it didn't match her true nature. It was a small thing, an insignificant detail in the grand scheme of things, but it spoke volumes to him about her—about how much she was willing to pretend, to mold herself into whatever image was required.
The conversation, meanwhile, continued to swirl around them. Light was quiet, her attention now split between observing Serena and keeping an eye on Draco, but it was Claus who pushed the topic forward, oblivious to the tension between them. As he launched into another story of court life in Imperious, Seventeen maintained her act, playing the part of the charming, easy-going newcomer. She laughed at the right moments, chimed in with her thoughts, and added just the right amount of sweetness to the conversation.
It all came so easily to her.
But Draco wasn't fooled. His eyes never left her, and beneath his cool exterior, the gears in his mind were already turning. He would figure her out—he had to. Something about her didn't sit right, and he wasn't going to let it slide. Not when every part of him was screaming that she was hiding something. Not when he could feel the weight of her secrets pressing down on him. It was only a matter of time before everything came to the surface.
And when it did, he would be ready.
※※※
After lunch, Seventeen walked back to the hospital, her steps steady but her mind racing with thoughts she could barely keep up with. She could still feel the lingering tension from the conversation earlier, especially the way Draco had pushed her so deliberately. His questions had been sharp, probing—almost as if he were testing her, pushing at the very edges of her carefully constructed persona. It had been subtle, but she could tell. He was starting to see through the cracks, starting to sense that something wasn't quite right. It was only a matter of time before he found something he could latch onto, some small detail that would unravel everything she had so carefully built. The thought gnawed at her as she navigated the hospital's corridors, the sterile white walls closing in as the weight of the day pressed down on her.
But Seventeen wasn't panicking. She couldn't afford to. She had spent her entire life preparing for moments like this—moments when someone would try to see past the facade she wore, moments when she would be forced to reveal just a little too much of herself. She had learned early on how to protect her true self, how to bury it deep enough that no one would ever see it, no one would ever discover who she really was. Her entire existence up until now had been a performance, each day an act in a never-ending play where the stakes were nothing less than her survival.
Draco's probing today had been the first real test, but she wasn't going to let it break her. No, she would play the game, just like she always had. He was sharp, no doubt about it, but he wasn't invincible. She could already feel his instincts, his sharp eyes, and his ability to sense when something was wrong—but that wasn't enough. He hadn't yet realized that she was always one step ahead. She had planned for this mission for years, every detail, every move, every conversation. She was ready for whatever Draco or anyone else could throw at her.
As she stepped through the automatic doors of the hospital, the familiar antiseptic smell filling her senses, she felt the cool, clinical atmosphere settle around her like a second skin. The hospital, with its stark lighting and rigid walls, was a safe place—a place where she could retreat from the chaos outside, where she could ground herself.
["He's sharp,"] she admitted to herself as she walked deeper into the building, her footsteps echoing in the otherwise quiet corridor. ["But he's not invincible."] There was a certain comfort in that thought. He may be a challenge, but she had faced much worse. This was just another game, another obstacle to overcome. And Seventeen Whitlock was nothing if not a master at playing games.
She was Serena D'Angelo, the kindhearted healer from Loveliar, and that was the role she would play for as long as it took. She could smile and charm with the best of them, weaving her way through their lives with grace and ease, a perfect image of the innocent and gentle soul they all thought she was. She had fooled them all so far—Claus, Light, Hunter, Amelia, Sabrina—none of them suspected a thing, except for Draco.
But underneath the carefully crafted mask, Seventeen Whitlock, the calculating manipulator from Ophiuchus, waited, her mind always working, always scheming. She had spent years preparing for this moment, honing her skills, sharpening her wit. She was patient, and she knew that in the end, patience would be her greatest ally.
The real challenge, however, would be breaking down Draco's defenses without making herself vulnerable. She had been able to maintain control so far, keeping her true self hidden behind the mask of Serena, but Draco was different. He was sharp, perceptive, and he wasn't going to let her slip away so easily. The more he prodded, the more he watched her, the more he was likely to uncover. But she wouldn't let that happen. Not now. She couldn't afford to let him see too much. If he discovered who she truly was—if any of them did—it would be the end of everything. Her mission, her purpose, everything she had worked for would be ruined.
Seventeen let out a breath as she rounded a corner, heading toward the staff lounge. She paused for a moment, glancing down at her hands, still feeling the faint tremor of anxiety that had started to build after her interaction with Draco. The tension, the awareness of the risk she was constantly walking—it was exhausting. But she couldn't stop now. Not when she was so close.
Her role as Serena D'Angelo, the healer from Loveliar, was the perfect cover. It was simple, unassuming. No one would ever guess that the gentle, caring woman before them was, in reality, Seventeen Whitlock—one of the seven destined to fulfill the prophecy and destroy the very system that had shaped her world. But to make that happen, she had to stay in control. She had to maintain her composure, her distance, and above all, her secrecy. Because if anyone discovered the truth, everything would fall apart. And that was something she couldn't allow.
She had always known that this mission wouldn't be easy. But she had never been one to shy away from a challenge. The stakes were too high for hesitation, for second-guessing. The path ahead was treacherous, filled with dangers and unknowns, but Seventeen Whitlock was prepared for whatever lay ahead.
And so, with a final glance at her reflection in the hospital window, she squared her shoulders and walked deeper into the heart of the building. Her mind was already calculating her next steps, already planning her next move.
※※※
That night, Draco stood in his study, the soft glow of the fireplace casting long, flickering shadows across the darkened room. The crackling of the fire was the only sound that filled the otherwise quiet space, yet his mind was anything but calm. It raced with thoughts, images, and doubts that he couldn't shake. The afternoon's events kept replaying in his mind like a broken record. He couldn't stop thinking about Serena—her every move, every word, every carefully crafted gesture. She had been perfectly poised, the picture of grace and charm, as if she had been rehearsing her performance for days. But it was that very perfection that unsettled him, that made his instincts scream that something was off.
Serena's act was too seamless, too calculated. She had every word rehearsed, every movement measured, every smile just the right amount of inviting, never too much, never too little. It all seemed designed to keep others at ease, to make them feel safe, to make them trust her. But Draco was no fool. He had seen people like her before—people who could walk into a room and immediately take control, who could charm everyone in their path with nothing more than a warm smile and a few choice words. People who could make you feel like you were the only person in the world when they spoke to you. It was intoxicating, magnetic even, and easy to fall for. But Draco knew better. He knew that charm was often a mask, a shield to hide something darker underneath.
["She's too perfect,"] Draco thought to himself as he paced back and forth in front of the fire, the flickering flames casting a shifting glow on his face. His eyes narrowed as he thought about it. ["No one is that flawless."] It was a lie—an illusion that he could see through. She had put on an act, and Draco was determined to find out what lay beneath it. He had always prided himself on his ability to read people, to notice the smallest details that others overlooked. And Serena? She wasn't fooling him. Not for a second.
Her ability to feign enjoyment of that disgusting coffee was just the tip of the iceberg. It was subtle, but it had stood out to him in a way it probably hadn't to anyone else. She had hated it—he could see it in the way her lips barely touched the cup, the way her eyes flitted around the room as if trying to hide her distaste. But she had pretended, hadn't she? She had smiled, sipped it, and gone on like everything was fine. It had been a small thing, easily overlooked, but it had stuck with him. He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because he could tell that it wasn't just about the coffee. There was something more to it, something deeper, something hidden in the way she held herself, the way she spoke. It was like she was always hiding just beneath the surface, just out of reach. And that only made him more determined to uncover what she was really hiding.
["I'll find out,"] Draco thought, clenching his jaw as he stopped pacing and stared into the fire. The flames danced and twisted, the warmth a stark contrast to the cold calculation that ran through his veins. He was used to getting answers. He was used to getting what he wanted. And if Serena thought she could pull the wool over his eyes, she had another thing coming. He was going to watch her closely—closer than anyone else. He would study her every move, catch her in the smallest missteps, and when the time came, he would unravel her carefully woven facade.
But for now, he had to wait. He wasn't the only one watching her. No, there were others, too, and their eyes were just as trained on Serena as his were. She was under scrutiny from all sides, and it wasn't just him who would discover her secrets. Someone else would slip up, make a mistake, reveal something that would tip the balance. And when that happened, he would be ready. But for tonight, all he could do was wait. Let the game unfold, let the pieces fall into place, and bide his time. Eventually, everything would come to light. And when it did, he would be the one standing there, watching her secrets unravel. He was patient—he could wait.
※※※
Seventeen's nights were always the same—quiet, isolated, and spent alone in her apartment. The dim light from a lone lamp cast soft shadows on the walls, but it did little to distract her from the whirlwind of thoughts racing through her mind. Her plans, her strategies, her every move—everything was carefully calculated, every decision weighed with the gravity of its consequences. She could never afford to relax. As the world outside the window continued its chaotic pulse, Seventeen remained focused, her mind a battlefield, a constant game of chess with herself. The city of Downtown Zodiac glittered below her like a sea of stars, a shining jewel at the heart of the Archipelago. It was the most prestigious island in the entire archipelago, the hub where the powerful from all twelve districts came to socialize, to put on displays of grandeur while concealing the true nature of their actions behind a thin veil of diplomacy and convenience. The island was a monument to both privilege and deceit, where the wealthy and influential danced their delicate social dances while the common folk were kept on the outskirts, forced to look in from the shadows.
It was the biggest privilege of all to be here, in this city of power, in this fortress of politics. To mingle with the leaders, to walk among them, to be seen by them—it was the type of life few could ever even dream of, and yet, for Seventeen, it was a role she had been preparing for her entire life. In a place where the boundaries between appearance and reality were constantly blurred, where everyone played a part, where nobody was truly who they seemed to be, Seventeen understood her place. She wasn't just a visitor here. No, she was part of the greater plan, a piece in a much larger puzzle. Socializing between districts was an extremely hard task for the common folk, a challenge that was never quite surmountable. But the elite, they made it look easy, effortlessly weaving together alliances, manipulating those beneath them for their own gain.
The disparity between them was stark—those at the top living lives of luxury and excess, while the folk who existed beneath them suffered, toiling in the shadows without ever being acknowledged. Seventeen's gaze hardened as she looked out over the glittering skyline. It was a life of extremes, one that seemed almost unbearable in its unfairness. But she wasn't here to pity them. She was here to take her place at the top. She was here to take control. And in time, she would make sure that everything—everything—fell into place.
["One step at a time,"] she reminded herself quietly, her voice echoing in her mind like a mantra. ["Gain their trust. Play the part. Keep your distance. And when the time comes, strike."]
Her breath slowed, the weight of her mission pressing down on her. She let out a slow breath, closing her eyes for a moment as she allowed herself a brief moment of respite. But even in the silence, she couldn't escape the heavy memories that haunted her. The ghosts of her past—of her siblings—pressed against her with unrelenting force, their voices lingering in her mind like an echo that never quite faded. Every night, it was the same. The faces of those she had lost, the blood that had been spilled, the promises made and broken. It was a burden she could never fully shed.
["I can't afford to let them distract me now,"] she thought sharply, her resolve hardening. The past, with all its pain and loss, had to stay in the past—for now, at least. Not when she was so close. Not when everything she had worked for was within her grasp.
The six—the other children of the prophecy—they were falling into place. Slowly, but surely. Each one of them, drawn into her orbit. Each one of them, trusting her. She could feel it. Even Draco, with his coldness and suspicion, would eventually be drawn into her web, just like the others. It was only a matter of time. The prophecy demanded it. She had seen it, she had known it from the very beginning. She was the one they would follow. She was the one who would lead them.
Her fingers tightened into a fist at her side as she opened her eyes, her gaze hardening with a quiet determination. She could see it so clearly now—the way everything would unfold, the way they would all fall in line, one by one. Her role was inevitable. She had been chosen for this.
["I'll lead them all,"] she vowed silently, her heart pounding with the weight of the promise she was making to herself. ["And when the time comes, I'll make them see the truth."]
But until that moment arrived, until the prophecy reached its inevitable conclusion, she had to remain patient. Serena D'Angelo would be the person they needed her to be. She would smile. She would laugh. She would heal. It was all part of the act. Every word, every gesture, every interaction—it was all carefully crafted to reinforce the persona she had built. She would play her role to perfection.
Because, at the end of the day, that was what they needed her to be. And she would be exactly that. For now.