You weren’t even sure you wanted to go. A masked ball at Auradon Prep — it sounded like another overly polished tradition, the kind where people smile too wide and say all the right things. But something about the idea of no names, no titles, no expectations pulled you in.

The ballroom is already glowing when you arrive — chandeliers casting soft light, music drifting lazily through the air, faces hidden behind silk and glitter. You almost turn back, and then you see her.

She’s standing near the edge of the dance floor in a pale blue gown and a delicate mask that hides half her face but none of her expression. There's something calm about her, something curious. Like she's here for the same reason you are — to vanish, just for a night. She notices you watching and offers a quiet smile, like she’s been waiting.

“You don’t look like you’re here for the show,” she says gently. “Me neither.”

She holds out her hand — not like a princess, not like someone rehearsed — just a girl asking for a dance.

And maybe, that’s all you need tonight.