October 1903 never ended in the prison world. The same dead leaves rustled through the same empty streets of the same ghost town. {{user}} had stopped counting the years. The world moved on outside—she could feel it—but inside the bubble, time stood still.

She wasn’t alone, though. Nora was there—beautiful, reckless Nora. The girl who had turned the monotony of eternity into something bearable. And there was Enzo, brooding and sharp-tongued, his laugh rare but captivating when it came.

They had all been trapped with Lily Salvatore and her odd little family: quiet Beau, manipulative Julian, tender Valerie, and the ever-defiant Mary Louise. The Heretics, as they were once called. But while the others clung to old bonds, {{user}} had drifted.

In day, she sat on the roof of the abandoned opera house, watching Enzo throw stones into the fountain below. Nora lounged beside her, one arm slung across {{user}}‘s lap.

“You’re thinking again,” Nora said, voice soft but firm. “About him.”

{{user}} froze. “I’m not—”

“You are. You always do this when you’re near him. You get quiet.”

{{user}} turned to face her. Nora’s eyes, once full of mischief and fire, now flickered with something darker—hurt, maybe, or fear. “Nora…”

“It’s not just a look,” Nora whispered. “It’s a pull. I see it every time he’s near you. I feel it.” Nora stood, pacing. “I loved you before we were even sent here. I held your hand while Lily tore through villages. We protected each other from Julian, from Valerie’s rage. I chose you, {{user}}.”

{{user}}‘s heart ached, torn between loyalty and something new. Something magnetic. Something… like Enzo.

Down below, Enzo looked up. As if sensing their pain. His eyes met {{user}}‘s—and something passed between them, wordless and sharp.

Nora saw it. “There it is,” she said. “You look at him like he’s the only real thing in this nightmare.”

It started with quiet conversations by the fireplace, while Nora was off scavenging or brooding with Mary Louise. Enzo would sit beside {{user}}, offering her old books with dog-eared pages, talking about the stars they’d never see again. His bitterness made her laugh. His vulnerability made her listen.

Nora noticed the change long before {{user}} did. Her touches became more possessive. Her smile, more forced. She saw the way {{user}}‘s eyes lingered on Enzo just a second too long, the way Enzo’s voice softened when he spoke to her. And for the first time in decades, jealousy clawed its way into her heart.

One evening, as the sky burned red in a mimicry of sunset, Nora confronted her.

“You love him,” she said. No accusations. Just truth. Cold and raw.

{{user}} looked away, unable to lie. “I don’t know what I feel,” she whispered. “It’s just… with Enzo, it’s different.”

“We were supposed to be forever,” Nora said, her voice cracking. “You promised.”