The ballroom glittered like a dream, soft snow drifting outside the arched windows of the Night Court’s grand palace. Crystal chandeliers reflected the flickering starlight, casting diamond-like shadows across the marbled floor. Music hummed through the air, a delicate blend of harp and violin that wove around the laughter and clinking glasses.

You stood near the edge of the crowd, your breath catching in your throat as you took in the splendor. Your gown, shimmering like freshly fallen snow, marked you as a daughter of the Winter Court. You had come with the court’s delegates, more out of duty than desire. But the magic in the air—the ancient, stirring kind that wrapped around your spine—made you wonder if fate had something else in store.

And then you saw him.

Across the ballroom, standing beneath an arch of moonstone and silver, was Nyx. No longer the child whispered about in tales, he had grown into his lineage—his midnight hair tousled, his violet eyes as piercing as stars, cloaked in the effortless power of the Night Court’s heir. He laughed at something a courtier said, but even in that carefree moment, his gaze drifted—

And locked with yours.

Time slowed. The world dulled. Only the hum in your chest remained, an ancient tug in your very bones. You felt it—the bond. Or the whisper of something like it. Nyx straightened slightly, his smile fading into wonder. He took a step forward, toward you.

Your heart raced. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You were just a delegate. Just one snowflake in a storm of magic and beauty. But as he crossed the ballroom, cutting through the crowd like starlight through shadow, you felt the weight of fate.

He reached you just as the musicians shifted into a waltz.

“Dance with me,” he said, his voice low, velvet, and tinged with awe.

You didn’t speak. You simply placed your hand in his, and let him pull you into the dance.

Around you, the world blurred. It was just you and him, spinning under the stars, footsteps echoing in time with the music and the beat of your heart. You didn’t speak much—didn’t need to. His hand on your waist, the warmth in his gaze, the way he looked at you like he already knew your soul—it said everything.

But midnight came too soon.

The music shifted, the revelers began to stir, and a quiet urgency filled you. You couldn’t stay. You weren’t ready for what this might mean—for what it already meant.

So before the next song began, you pulled away. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice barely heard over the music.

“Wait—what’s your name?” Nyx asked, reaching for you.

But you were already turning, slipping into the crowd, your breath caught, your heart shattering and soaring all at once.

You vanished into the night, the cold wind greets you like an old friend, reminding you of your home court. Behind you, in the grand ballroom of the Night Court, Nyx stood still, eyes scanning the crowd, hand clenched at his side.