"The Feast of Shadows"

Selene was in her room, gazing at herself in the mirror. The red dress seemed to melt into her pale skin, her curves outlined by the crimson silk that embraced her body with perfection. She adjusted the delicate mask over her face, feeling the watchful, concerned eyes of her friend Ayla upon her.

"You don't have to go," Ayla said softly, as if trying to shield her friend from the war brewing between the lines of that event. "Those women have nothing to offer but poison."

Selene, her lips thin, looked at her, her decision already made. "I can't hide forever, Ayla. The world won't wait. I need to be more than what they think of me." Her gaze was firm, her heterochromatic eyes gleaming with determination.

Ayla sighed, knowing she couldn't dissuade Selene. She helped her adjust her hair, styled into an elegant bun. "Just don't forget—some battles are better fought in the shadows, not on stage."

"And what if it's my turn to rule the shadows?" Selene gave a dark smile.

The event was a peculiar gathering, an occasion where only noble women were invited: The Feast of Shadows. Those who attended were known for their subtle intrigues, venomous whispers, and the way they wielded power games to manipulate others.

Upon arrival, Selene felt every eye in the room turn toward her. The hall was filled with women in dazzling dresses and masks, each more imposing than the last. But there was something different about her. The way the red dress clung to her form, how the mask shaded part of her face, making her even more mysterious. She seemed to float among the others—an apparition of power and beauty.

As she moved through the hall, she caught whispers:

"Look, there's Dante's bride… How could he ever be interested in her?"

"A cold, dull girl… A power play that won't last."

"Will she submit to this court's rules or just be another puppet?"

Selene remained impassive, absorbing the words as if they were nothing more than the sound of wind. She knew every word was an attempt to humiliate her, to bring her down. But she was ready to rise.

That was when Elowen appeared, in her provocative dress and eyes gleaming with disdain. "Ah, the princess of Clan Valtieri, playing hard to get," she mocked with a cunning smile. "Or are you just a shadow, hiding the real you behind that mask?"

Selene stepped forward, her posture straight, eyes locked on Elowen. "Perhaps, unlike you, I don't need to shout to be heard," she replied with an icy smile. "But don't worry—those who watch from too far away often miss the real story."

Silence fell over the room, the other women holding their breath—some whispering, others simply watching. Elowen tried to hold her composure, but Selene's defiant gaze made her confidence falter. With a smooth motion, Selene walked away, leaving Elowen with a startled expression.

The party continued, but the air grew heavier with tension. The women tried to get close to Selene, looking for ways to humiliate her, but she stood firm, answering each attempt with sharp words, her presence growing even more commanding.

As the night progressed, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows—Baltazar. He watched Selene with an enigmatic smile, approaching with calculated steps. The tension between them lingered in the air, as if something deeper connected them beyond words.

"Aren't you afraid of becoming just one more shadow in this party?" he asked, his eyes fixed on her, studying her every move.

Selene didn't answer immediately. She watched him, feeling the weight of his words. "Maybe I'm the only one who knows how to play this game." She stepped closer to him, her presence making the atmosphere denser, more charged with emotion.

Baltazar lightly touched her arm—a gesture that felt almost intimate—but Selene didn't pull away. She felt the warmth of his hand, the softness of his touch, and something inside her stirred. She knew there was more between them, something not yet fully understood.

"You're stronger than you think, Selene. Don't let them make you feel lesser." His voice was gentle, but carried an emotional weight she couldn't ignore.

She looked at him, the internal battle visible in her eyes. She knew he was right, but also knew the true fight wasn't in a ballroom or in words—it was in controlling herself.

"Maybe, Baltazar. But I can't afford to be more vulnerable right now. The world won't let me." She spoke, though she didn't truly want to push him away.

Baltazar, sensing the tension between them, touched her face with more intent, offering her silent comfort. He knew she bore the weight of many secrets, but wouldn't force anything.

Selene closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to be touched by him. The feeling of being treated with care, free from power games, was something she rarely allowed. She didn't move away, permitting herself a brief moment of softness.

But the sound of hurried footsteps made them quickly part. Dante stood at a distance, watching with burning eyes—cold, yet intense. His gaze fixed on Selene, laced with possessiveness, made the air grow heavier.

Selene didn't look away. She was more confident now, more human, and she knew the shadows that surrounded her were no longer just external threats. They lived within her too.