The next morning brought no peace. Rain hammered the city like a war drum, drowning out the usual buzz of Royal Crest. But inside Aurora, the storm was louder.
She sat on the edge of her bed, legs folded under her, clutching her phone.
No messages from Zayne.
Her fingers hovered over his name, tempted to text, to call—to scream into the void until he answered. But she didn't. She couldn't.
Instead, she opened the drawer by her nightstand. The journal her mother left her lay inside, bound in cracked leather and sealed with a blood-red ribbon. The one Aurora hadn't dared open. Until now.
She untied the ribbon with trembling hands.
The first page bore her mother's handwriting.
"To my daughter, Aurora. If you're reading this, the curse has found you too. I'm sorry. I tried to keep it buried. But magic has a way of crawling out of its grave."
Aurora swallowed hard and turned the page.
Drawings. Symbols. Descriptions of rituals. Spells. Names of people she didn't recognize, but who felt important—like echoes of her blood.
Then, a sketch. A woman in flames.
The Girl of Fire and Gold.
Aurora blinked.
The same image Zayne had shown her. The girl in the prophecy.
Her.
A knock at the door jolted her.
Fiona stood outside.
But it wasn't Fiona—not really. Not anymore.
Her eyes shimmered black like oil slicks. Her smile too wide.
"May I come in?"
Aurora didn't answer. She stepped back.
Fiona sauntered in anyway, the air chilling behind her. "Nice place. Shame you won't get to stay long."
Aurora closed the journal behind her back. "What do you want?"
Fiona tilted her head. "You. Dead, preferably. But I'm flexible."
Her nails elongated into claws.
Aurora raised her palm. Gold light flickered.
Fiona hissed. "Still learning your tricks, huh? Cute. Let me show you mine."
She lunged.
Aurora ducked, sent a pulse of heat outward. Fiona shrieked as her sleeve caught fire, stumbling back into the hallway wall.
Aurora didn't wait. She ran.
She burst into the campus greenhouse, rain steaming off her jacket. She needed cover. Time. Help.
Zayne was there.
He looked like hell. Wet hair clung to his forehead. A cut on his lip. Bruises blooming down his neck like violets.
"I felt it," he said, breathless. "Something hit you. Hard."
Aurora nodded. "Fiona. But she's not alone in her head anymore."
He pulled her in, arms tight around her.
"I tried to stay away," he murmured. "Thought maybe distance would slow the curse. But it doesn't. It only grows."
Aurora looked up. "Then stop trying to leave. Stay. Fight."
He stared at her.
Then he kissed her.
Not rushed. Not violent. Just two people standing in a jungle of rain and orchids, kissing like the world could still be saved.
Aurora gasped against his lips. The earth trembled beneath them.
"We have to break it," she whispered.
Zayne nodded. "Together."
From the greenhouse shadows, a figure stirred.
Not Fiona.
Someone older.
Watching. Waiting.
And smiling.
End of chapter 9