Whispers in the hall

The Victorian dress clung uncomfortably to Cora as she adjusted the heavy fabric around her waist. The full-length mirror in her dormitory reflected an image she barely recognized. The deep emerald-green gown was intricately laced with silver embroidery, the sleeves puffed slightly at the shoulders before tapering to her wrists. It was beautiful, regal even, but it didn't feel like her.

Her eyes drifted upward to the mask still clinging stubbornly to her face. The smooth, almost organic texture of it had become a constant companion, a reminder of the mystery she was now entwined in. Its intricate patterns glimmered faintly in the candlelight, as though mocking her attempts to blend into the world around her.

"Hold still," Amelia muttered, struggling with the last knot of the corset strings. "Honestly, how did they even breathe in these?"

"They didn't," Cora replied dryly, earning a chuckle from her friend.

Amelia stepped back to admire her work, dressed in her own sapphire gown. "There! You look stunning, like you belong in one of those ancient portraits hanging in the Great Hall."

Cora smiled faintly, but her fingers brushed over the mask's edge. It was still there, a piece of her she couldn't remove, no matter how hard she tried. The soft lines of her dress contrasted sharply with the cold, unyielding presence of the mask.

"You know," Amelia began, catching Cora's distracted look, "the mask doesn't make you less beautiful. If anything, it makes you look mysterious. Like some tragic heroine in one of those Gothic novels."

Cora gave a small laugh, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Mysterious isn't exactly comforting."

Amelia shrugged. "Maybe not, but it's definitely intriguing. Now come on, the others will already be at the hall, and I, for one, don't want to miss the spectacle."

Cora nodded, though unease settled in her stomach. As they stepped into the corridor, the buzz of excitement filled the air. Students dressed in lavish Victorian costumes hurried toward the grand hall, their voices mingling in a cacophony of anticipation.

---

The Great Hall was transformed into a scene straight out of the past. Crystal chandeliers bathed the room in a golden glow, their light reflecting off gilded mirrors and polished floors. Tables draped in rich velvet lined the walls, adorned with silver candelabras and delicate arrangements of roses.

Cora tried to focus on the grandeur, but the mask's presence was like an itch she couldn't scratch. It wasn't just the physical weight—it was the stares. Whispers followed her wherever she moved, students casting furtive glances her way before quickly averting their eyes.

"They're just curious," Amelia said, linking arms with her. "You're probably the most interesting person here."

"I'd rather not be," Cora muttered.

Amelia gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. "Too late for that, I'm afraid. Come on, let's find some food before the speeches start."

As they made their way toward the buffet, Cora's gaze was drawn to a group of students near the center of the hall. Damien stood among them, effortlessly commanding attention. His black waistcoat and crisp white shirt fit him perfectly, exuding a dangerous elegance that made him look like he belonged in this world more than anyone else.

He was speaking to two other students, but Cora could feel his eyes flicker toward her even from across the room. The intensity of his gaze made her skin prickle, and she quickly looked away.

"You should talk to him," Amelia whispered, nudging her.

"Absolutely not."

"Why not? He's clearly interested in you."

Cora shot her a warning look. "Amelia—"

Before she could protest further, a sharp voice cut through the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the woman from earlier, who had announced the event, stood on a raised platform at the far end of the hall. The room fell silent as all eyes turned to her.

"Welcome to the Victorian Ball," she began, her voice clear and commanding. "Tonight, we celebrate the history and legacy of this esteemed academy. But more importantly, we celebrate you, our students—the future."

A ripple of applause spread through the crowd, though Cora noticed Damien didn't join in. He stood still, his expression unreadable.

"Now, let the dancing begin!"

The music swelled, a waltz that filled the room with its lilting melody. Couples began to pair off, moving gracefully across the floor.

Cora lingered near the edge of the room, unsure of what to do. Amelia had already been swept away by an enthusiastic partner, leaving her to navigate the evening alone.

"Not a fan of dancing?"

The voice startled her, and she turned to find Damien standing beside her. She hadn't even noticed him approach.

"I… It's not really my thing," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Damien's lips curved into a faint smirk. "Good. Neither is it mine."

Cora frowned, unsure of what he meant. Before she could ask, he held out a hand.

"Come with me."

She hesitated. "Where?"

"Somewhere quieter."

Her heart raced as she considered his offer. The weight of the mask, the stifling atmosphere of the hall, and the curious stares all pressed down on her. Against her better judgment, she placed her hand in his.

Damien's smirk widened, and he led her toward a side door, away from the music and the prying eyes of the crowd.

Cora's pulse quickened with each step, her thoughts a chaotic jumble of curiosity and unease. Whatever lay ahead, she knew it would bring her closer to the truth—and deeper into the shadows Damien seemed to embody.