The echoes of clinking glasses still rang in Seraphina's ears, though the world around her felt unreal. Every color seemed sharper, yet more distant, as if she were viewing the wedding from behind a glass window. Her lips still burned with the sweetness of champagne, but beneath it was a sharp metallic tang, crawling across her tongue, uninvited.
She tried to speak, to call someone, anyone, but her throat tightened, refusing the words. The room swirled around her, golden light from the chandeliers streaking across the polished marble like liquid fire. Her knees wobbled and she gripped the nearest table edge, white-knuckled, trying to anchor herself to reality.
"Seraphina?"
The voice came again, soft, controlled. Lucien's hand was at her elbow now, steady, unyielding. His eyes didn't waver, even as the chaos rippled around her. To anyone else, he looked concerned, protective even. But Seraphina felt the precise, cold calculation behind his gaze, and it was terrifying.
Her vision flickered, the crowd's smiles twisting into something sharp, almost predatory. She noticed small things she hadn't before: Elise lingering at the side, her gaze darting toward the champagne bottle with a flicker of triumph barely concealed. Another friend whispered to someone across the room, eyes glinting, fingers trembling just slightly. They all knew something she didn't, or perhaps they wanted her to know.
Her stomach tightened as nausea rose, hot and clawing. She steadied herself with Lucien's hand, though she could barely tell whether his support was genuine or part of some cruel observation. The warmth of his touch, normally comforting, now felt like a weapon in disguise.
"You'll be fine," he murmured, low and calm. "Just breathe."
Breathe. She tried. She inhaled sharply, then slowly, counting each heartbeat as it raced in her chest. Her body betrayed her with every pulse, her vision blurred, her limbs weak, the room tilting in dizzying arcs. She felt as though she were floating outside herself, a fragile shell crumbling under invisible pressure.
The champagne glass slipped from her fingers. It clattered to the floor, sparkling liquid spreading across the marble. She couldn't see it clearly, the light refracted and warped, but the movement seemed slow-motion, almost symbolic, as if the world itself paused to watch her fail.
Elise's laugh, soft, controlled, cut through her fog. "Seraphina, are you alright?"
The smile was practiced, flawless, but her eyes… her eyes betrayed her. There was something gleaming behind them: excitement. Triumph. The kind that only comes when you're in on a secret no one else knows. Seraphina's heart lurched violently. Betrayal had a smell tonight, bitter and metallic, and she could taste it on her tongue as it mingled with the poison.
Lucien's grip on her elbow tightened slightly, steadying her. "I've got you," he said again, voice low, almost hypnotic. But something flickered behind his calm exterior, a shadow she couldn't quite place, a flicker of calculation, a hint of amusement, like a predator watching its prey struggle.
She tried to pull away, to step back, but her legs wouldn't respond. Every step felt as though she were walking through water, her body sluggish, betraying her with every ounce of weakness it had. She stumbled, gripping the table for support, and the world tilted again.
The murmurs in the crowd rose, not in alarm but in that peculiar curiosity humans have when something spectacularly wrong is happening but hasn't yet reached their doorstep. They watched her like spectators at a performance, their smiles polite, but their eyes sharp and calculating. Someone moved closer, whispered to Lucien, and he nodded subtly, almost imperceptibly.
Seraphina's chest burned. Sweat pricked at her temples as nausea surged violently. Her fingers trembled as she tried to focus, to understand, to figure it out. Who had done this? Who among them had wanted her gone?
She caught glimpses, Elise, her closest friend, now discreetly moving away; a distant cousin stiffening as he glanced at her; the champagne bottle itself, carefully placed, gleaming innocently in the flickering light. Every shadow seemed alive, whispering secrets she could almost hear but not quite grasp.
Her head lolled to the side, weight heavy, her mind swimming in a haze of panic and awareness. It was a strange clarity, one that comes when fear sharpens perception. She saw Lucien's eyes again, dark and unreadable. Calm, controlled, but the glint there made her stomach twist. He was watching, yes, but not with concern. With interest.
Her body shook violently, and she realized she couldn't hold herself upright. With a desperate lurch, she fell to the floor, the marbled surface cold beneath her palms. Pain shot through her chest as she tried to drag air into her lungs. Her vision blurred further. Faces, once familiar, melted into grotesque masks of deceit.
"Stay with me," Lucien whispered again.
And yet… he didn't reach for the glass of water. He didn't call for someone. He simply observed, one hand on her arm, the other hovering as if testing her limits. His calm, measured breathing mocked the chaos in her own chest.
Seraphina's mind raced despite the poison clawing through her system. I should have seen this coming. I should have known. Every detail from before her death flared in memory, warnings she had ignored now screaming in urgency. She remembered the smallest inconsistencies, the faint hesitation in Elise's smile, the whispered conversations in corridors, the almost imperceptible smirk Lucien had once hidden behind polite charm.
And now it all converged here, in the sparkling ballroom that had once been her dream.
Pain surged sharply, a cruel reminder that her body was failing her. She gasped, trying to summon words, but they refused her. Nausea flared again, twisting her stomach, sending tremors through her limbs. She felt the world collapsing inward, her life tilting on a razor's edge.
Then she saw it, a shadow at the edge of the room, just beyond the golden glow of chandeliers. Someone watching, waiting. Not a friend, not an innocent guest. A smile barely visible in the flickering light. Seraphina's vision narrowed despite the dizziness. Her instincts screamed. Someone had orchestrated this, and everyone around her knew more than they let on.
Lucien bent closer, his lips near her ear. "Relax," he whispered, his tone velvety, dangerous. "It's just a little stumble."
Her chest tightened further. A stumble? This was no accident. She could feel the poison spreading, a creeping fire that weakened her limbs and blurred her mind, yet sharpened her awareness. This was calculated. Precise. Intended.
And then the final, terrifying clarity hit: she wasn't just a victim tonight. She was part of someone else's game. Every glance, every whisper, every controlled movement, this had been planned.
The room tilted once more, the chandeliers spinning, golden sparks streaking across her vision. Her legs gave way entirely. She collapsed fully to the floor, and the world slipped from her fingers like sand.
Lucien's hand stayed at her shoulder, steady, unmoving, his eyes unreadable. The crowd gasped, polite murmurs rising, but he didn't flinch. He simply watched, as if savoring her struggle.
And in the corner of her mind, a single thought flared, desperate and defiant: I will survive. If there's another life… I will remember everything. And I will not forgive.
The last thing she felt before the darkness consumed her was the faint glint of Elise's triumphant eyes, the glittering chandelier above, and Lucien's calculated, calm gaze.
Then the world ended.