A chill crept over Cora's skin as she found herself standing before the same portrait once again.
Her breath hitched.
No. Not again.
She turned sharply, trying to move, trying to will herself back to the safety of her dorm room—but her body refused to obey. It was as if invisible hands had latched onto her, keeping her trapped in this eerie, timeless space.
Her pulse pounded as she bit her lip. If she couldn't escape, then she had no choice but to confront whatever force had pulled her here. What was it trying to show her?
The air in the corridor was thick, oppressive, almost suffocating. Shadows stretched unnaturally, and the only sound was the distant, rhythmic drip of water, echoing like a heartbeat.
Cora hesitated, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. Every time she had been here, she had seen glimpses of the past, fragments of something long forgotten. Was this her ability manifesting?
She squinted into the darkness, her senses sharpening. The corridor was much darker than before, the air laced with the scent of aged wood and dust.
Tentatively, she reached out to wipe the dust from the portrait's surface.
Hiss—
A sharp sting shot through her hand again.
She flinched, eyes darting down to see a fresh cut forming just below the old one. A single droplet of blood trickled down her finger, seeping into the portrait's surface like ink into parchment.
Then, the lamps flickered to life.
Cora gasped, stepping back as the once-dormant corridor was bathed in a dim, golden glow. The flickering light cast unsettling shadows against the walls, and she realized—she wasn't alone.
Her eyes darted to the portrait, and her heart stopped.
There—staring back at her with haunting familiarity—was a woman she had overlooked before. But now, there was no mistaking it.
Liana Ravenscroft.
The current Queen.
Cora's stomach twisted. How? How was the Queen's image immortalized in this ancient place? And more importantly—why did she look exactly the same as she did now?
Had she been reincarnated?
Cora's hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. This wasn't normal. None of this was normal.
She turned to the next portrait, hoping—dreading—what she might see next.
A woman stood within the frame, draped in an elegant blue medieval gown. The detailing of her attire shimmered under the dim light, but it was her expression that made Cora's breath catch.
The woman smirked.
A slow, chilling curve of her lips that sent ice crawling down Cora's spine.
Then, she spoke.
"Alicia."
Cora's breath hitched.
She spun around instinctively, scanning the darkness behind her, searching for who the woman could be addressing—but there was no one else here.
Unlike most of her dreams the woman was talking to her.
The hairs on the back of her neck rose.
The woman in the portrait wasn't just a painting anymore.
She was looking directly at her.
"You're back," the woman murmured, her voice like silk laced with something sinister.
Cora swallowed hard.
"I'm not Alicia," she managed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm Cora."
The woman's eyes narrowed.
"Alicia," she repeated, her tone sharper now—unyielding.
Cora took a step back, her pulse hammering against her ribs. The energy in the room shifted, the air growing dense, charged with something ancient. Something wrong.
She was trapped.
A sudden, piercing pain shot through her head, and before she could process it, the woman's voice shattered the silence like glass.
"TAKE ME BACK TO THE SEA, ALICIA!"
Cora barely had time to react before something came hurtling toward her.
CRACK!
Whatever it was struck her forehead, sending a sharp sting rippling through her skull. She stumbled, her vision blurring.
She needed to get out. Now.
Her feet moved before her mind could catch up, her body lunging backward as the woman's figure flickered—no, moved.
Cora's stomach lurched as she watched the woman step out of the portrait.
The world around her tilted. The shadows stretched, swirling around her feet like living tendrils.
Run.
Cora turned and bolted.
Her breath came in short, ragged gasps as she raced toward the staircase, but just as she descended the first step—
The woman apparated before her.
Cora choked on a scream.
The woman's nails elongated into claws, her once-smirking lips now twisted into a sneer.
"Take me back to the sea," she hissed. "Or we'll be trapped here together forever."
Her eyes gleamed with malice.
Cora's chest tightened. This wasn't just a nightmare anymore.
She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to remember—this is just a dream. Wake up, Cora. Wake up.
She chanted it over and over in her mind, willing herself to snap out of it—
And then—
Darkness.
"WAKE UP, MASKED GIRL! YOU'RE FREAKING ME OUT!"
Cora's eyes flew open.
Her body was drenched in sweat, her limbs trembling as her vision focused on the girl standing over her bed.
Sienna.
Her arms were crossed, but there was something almost hesitant—concerned—in her gaze.
Cora exhaled shakily, pushing herself upright.
"Just a bad dream," she muttered, running a hand through her damp hair.
Sienna's lips pursed as if debating whether to pry further. Instead, she flicked her brunette hair over her shoulder and strolled toward her closet.
Without a word, she grabbed one of her plush designer teddy bears and thrust it at Cora.
Cora blinked.
"Might help," Sienna muttered, her voice laced with arrogance. "Don't take this as a sign that we're equals or anything. I just don't want my sleep disturbed."
She climbed into bed, flipping her pillow dramatically before sinking into it.
Cora stared at the teddy bear in her hands, warmth blooming in her chest despite herself.
Beneath Sienna's haughty demeanor, there was something oddly… human.
She clutched her own teddy tightly, her breathing evening out as silence settled over the room.
But Cora couldn't sleep.
She slipped out of bed, padding into the bathroom. The dim glow of the nightlight cast eerie shadows along the tiles. She turned toward the mirror—
And froze.
A dark bruise was forming on her forehead, right where she had been struck in the dream.
Her blood ran cold.
Slowly, she raised her hand, inspecting her fingers.
A fresh cut.
Just like in the dream.
Cora's stomach clenched.
Her reflection stared back at her, pale and shaken.
What the hell was happening to her?
Her fingers curled around the edge of the sink as her mind raced.
This wasn't just a dream.
Something was wrong.
She turned her head, catching the time on the clock.
11:59 PM.
The very time stuck on the clock tower.
Cora exhaled shakily, gripping the counter.
Whatever this was—it was getting even messier .