Evelyn's scream was swallowed by the abyss as she plummeted through darkness. The air around her was weightless, her body drifting as if she were suspended in time itself. The voice echoed in her ears, distant yet insistent.
"Wake up, Evelyn."
Then, a sudden pull—like invisible hands catching her mid-fall. The darkness splintered into fragments of light, swirling around her as if reality itself were unraveling.
And then… she landed.
The world shifted sharply back into focus. Evelyn gasped, her hands gripping something solid beneath her. A cold, hard surface. Marble? No—wood.
She was lying on a grand wooden desk in a dimly lit room, surrounded by towering bookshelves. The air smelled of aged paper, ink, and a faint trace of something familiar—like the lingering scent of the stranger's cologne from the ballroom.
Evelyn pushed herself up, her heart still hammering in her chest. "Where…?"
A deep, measured voice interrupted her thoughts. "You shouldn't be here."
She turned sharply.
The masked man was standing at the far end of the room, his black and silver mask now absent. In its place was a face too striking to belong to an ordinary man—sharp jawline, dark tousled hair, and those same piercing midnight eyes. He leaned against a mahogany desk, arms crossed, as if he had been waiting for her.
Evelyn's breath caught. "You—"
"I told you," he interrupted. "You're not supposed to be here."
She frowned, pushing off the desk. "Then why did I end up here?"
His gaze flickered to the book in her hands—the very book that had led her to the greenhouse, to the door, to the masquerade. Something unreadable passed over his expression before he exhaled heavily and moved toward her.
Evelyn instinctively stepped back, but he stopped just short of reaching her, his voice lower this time. "You crossed a threshold you weren't meant to."
A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Yeah, well, you keep saying that, but I don't recall being given much of a choice."
He studied her for a long moment before shaking his head. "This wasn't how it was supposed to happen."
Evelyn clenched her fists. "Then tell me—what was supposed to happen?"
The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken truths.
Finally, he stepped back, running a hand through his hair. "You need to leave."
Evelyn narrowed her eyes. "Not until I get some answers."
A shadow of hesitation crossed his features, but before he could respond, a sharp knock echoed through the room. Both of them stiffened.
"Sir," a voice called from the other side of the door. "The council is waiting."
The man cursed under his breath, then looked at Evelyn with a newfound urgency. "Listen to me carefully," he murmured, stepping closer. "Do not trust anyone who recognizes you. Say nothing about where you came from. And whatever happens, do not give them that book."
Evelyn's grip tightened around the worn cover, her pulse quickening. "Why?"
His jaw tensed. "Because if they realize who you are… they will never let you leave."
Before she could ask more, the door swung open, and the room was flooded with light. Several figures in dark robes stepped inside, their eyes immediately locking onto her.
Evelyn's fate, it seemed, had just become even more tangled.