CELESTE’S POV
I turned away from the balcony and descended the stairs—but the scene shifted as I moved.
The music grew louder and richer. No longer the background orchestral swell from the Lockwood estate, but something more modern.
Velvet strings layered over bass. Laughter echoed off higher ceilings.
Crystal chandeliers dangled above. Marble floors glowed beneath me. Gold-veined columns caught and split the light.
By the time I reached the lower level, the air no longer smelled like home.
Expensive perfume clung to every guest, permeating the air; ambition hovered, sharp and cold.
The Elysian.
The realization struck with a strange, electric clarity.
Of course.
The hunt had ended hours ago. This was later. The closing ceremony was taking place in the ballroom.
Guests clustered in elegant knots across the hotel’s grand lounge, gowns shimmering beneath the lights. Waitstaff moved like clockwork, silver trays glinting as they passed.
