The news of Empress Recaiah Crimson Birth Year Gala had spread like wildfire across all five kingdoms and the mortal lands beyond. Invitations, elegantly sealed in obsidian wax, had arrived in homes from Avalone to distant Ivia—each one a golden promise... and a quiet warning.
This was no ordinary celebration.
This was the birthday of Queen Recaiah—the first Consort of the Emperor of Eternal Night, and one of the most feared and revered vampire queens in Avalone's blood-stained history. To honor her, the imperial court was opening its gates to nobles, merchants, and even commoners who had proven worthy... or lucky.
And everyone wanted to be noticed.
In the heart of Ivia, the shopping districts were flooded with excitement. Gowns embroidered with stardust, masks sewn with enchanted feathers, and shoes that shimmered like moonlight were being snatched off shelves by frantic hands.
Bianca and her two best friends, Britney and Maya were at the center of it all.
"We need to look... lethal," Bianca purred, eyeing a blood-red corset gown in a boutique called Thorns & Silk. "Do you think this would make the prince stop and stare?"
"The prince?" scoffed Britney, brushing strands of silver hair from her cheek. "Bianca, half of Avalone's vampire nobles are going to be there. We need to look like danger in diamonds."
They bounced from shop to shop, demanding custom masks made from phoenix lace, velvet gloves soaked in perfume from the Eastern Isles, and tiaras blessed by flame-singers. Their goal? To be unforgettable. And maybe—just maybe—chosen.
But while the elite obsessed over gowns and gossip, Rosaline was at home, mopping the floors, her hair tied in a messy bun, her hands calloused from chores.
Her eyes kept flicking to the invitation on the counter, glowing faintly under the dim light.
"Grandma…" she asked hesitantly, "am I allowed to go to Queen Recaiah 's birthday gala? I… I was invited."
Her granny froze, the bowl she was stirring halting mid-air.
"Don't ever speak of Avalone in this house," she said coldly, her voice like stone. "And don't you dare think of attending that cursed masquerade."
"But… but Grandma, everyone in all dynasties and empires are going—"
"I said no!" her voice cracked like a whip. "You don't know what Avalone is. You think it's a fairytale. But that place… it's not for people like us."
Rosaline's chest sank, but her heart beat louder than her fear.
She had heard whispers all her life. That Avalone wasn't real. That vampires were just myths. But why would she receive an invitation if it was only fantasy?
Rosaline couldn't resist.
Preparations for the gala were underway across Ivia. Though cars ruled the streets, tonight was different—carriages lined the cobblestone roads, enchanted with glowing wheels and pulled by shadow-cloaked horses with eyes like red rubies. Some carriages were shaped like roses, others like black swans or crystal domes, crafted to awe and dazzle the royals.
Even Maga and Casse Rosaline's eccentric friends, had found a carriage modeled after a floating lily pad, trailing glowing petals behind it. They had planned to pick Rosaline up—but she was stuck.
Her grandmother, suspecting rebellion, closed from work early and sat like a hawk in the living room, knitting in silence, her eyes rarely blinking.
"I'm drinking coffee tonight because of you," her grandmother muttered. "I'll keep watch till midnight. I know you're planning something."
Rosaline's fingers trembled as she carried a tray from the kitchen.
"I made tea instead," she said sweetly, masking her heartbeat. "But if you want coffee, I can switch it."
Her grandmother narrowed her eyes. "Don't try anything, Rosaline. I mean it."
With a shaky smile, Rosaline returned with a second mug—coffee this time, laced with a soft sleeping potion she'd stolen from the apothecary two streets down.
A few sips in, her grandmother's head lolled to the side, her knitting slipping from her lap. As the clock chimed 11:30, Rosaline raced upstairs.
She stepped into the gown Maga and Casse had secretly delivered earlier that day: a deep navy-blue dress embroidered with constellations, its train flowing like mist, and a silver mask shaped like a butterfly's wings. A jewel pulsed faintly at her throat—a charm of protection. Or so they claimed.
Outside, her carriage awaited—a midnight-blue coach with glowing runes, pulled by moonlight horses. As she climbed in, she couldn't help but feel it:
Tonight wasn't just about beauty or celebration.
It was about destiny.
And she was no longer just a girl from Ivia.
She was a guest in Avalone.
And nothing would ever be the same again.