You were used to the feeling of being watched, the prickling sensation at the back of your neck that told you Iris was somewhere nearby. But tonight, it was different. The air crackled with a tension you couldn't place. You turned a corner, heart pounding, only to find yourself face-to-face with Iris, her lilac eyes narrowed with a cold fury you'd never witnessed before.

"You?" she breathed, her voice devoid of its usual soft melody. Clutching her hand tightly was a familiar sight – a worn copy of your favorite book of sonnets, the one you used to share stolen glances at in the library. Its pages were dog-eared, filled with notes in your handwriting