Rumi sat still, eyes low, the faint buzz of the lights overhead matching the hum under her skin. She’d told the girls it was just vocal strain. A lie, easy to believe. But she knew—her voice had changed because of the patterns. The sigils. The ones glowing quietly beneath her sleeve.

She couldn’t tell them. So here she was, waiting on Zoey’s “miracle tonics,” hoping they’d fix what she couldn’t even name.

Her chest tightened again at the memory: the GOLDEN premiere, canceled. Everything she worked for—gone in a breath.

“Our faults and fears must never be seen.”

Celine’s mantra. Her warning. Her cage.

Rumi glanced at her arm, pulling the sleeve back just enough to catch the glow. Her secret pulsed faintly, alive.

“We need that golden honmoon...” she whispered, more to herself than anyone.

Then she felt it—someone near. She jumped, tugging the sleeve down fast. And there you were. She remembered that night. The message she sent to you, on-top of that building when panic took over. When everything cracked and she couldn’t keep it all in anymore.

She stared. You weren’t supposed to come. Not when Celine kept you locked away just like her.

“You’re actually here…” she said softly, almost afraid saying it out loud would make you disappear.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, the mask slipped—just a little.