"I'm focusing on delivering the event you hired me for. We agreed personal complications wouldn't interfere."
"The Gala is tomorrow," he said quietly. "And after that..."
"After that, I'll make a decision," I finished. "But right now, I need to concentrate on final preparations."
Sinnamon made a soft whining sound, sensing the tension between us. Malrik glanced down at his hellhound, then back to me with a resigned nod.
"Of course. Professional first, personal later." He turned to leave, then paused. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. For all of this."
After he left, I stared at my seating chart without really seeing it. The power stirred restlessly, responding to my conflicted emotions.
I'd spent hours weighing impossible options. Let the power transfer become permanent, fundamentally changing who and what I was. Or ask Malrik to sacrifice his power, possibly all of it, to free me.
Neither choice felt right. Neither felt fair.
With a sigh, I pushed those thoughts aside. Today was about the Scorched Gala. Everything else could wait.
By mid-afternoon, Ashcliff Manor hummed with pre-event activity. Lighting technicians rigged atmospheric effects, security personnel established checkpoints, and vendor deliveries arrived like clockwork.
I moved through it all, reviewing checklists and directing traffic.
"The ice sculpture delivery is a day early," Jada reported, intercepting me in the entrance hall. "And the blood fountain installation team needs your approval on placement."
"Tell the ice team to use the north service entrance and put it in the walk-in freezer," I instructed. "I'll check the blood fountain placement now."
Jada narrowed her eyes. "You're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"Your eyes. They're... glowing a little. Not enough for humans to notice, but definitely there."
She sobered slightly, voice quieting.
"It's getting stronger, isn't it?" she asked, not joking this time.
I closed my eyes briefly, focusing on reining in the power. "Better?"
She nodded. "Just be careful around the lighting team. They might actually notice."
As we passed the grand staircase, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in an ornate mirror. For a split second, I could have sworn crimson lines traced beneath my skin, following the path of my veins before fading from view.
It should've startled me. A week ago, it would have. Now... it almost felt normal.
"Charlie?" Jada touched my arm, concerned. "You okay?"
"Fine," I lied, looking away from the mirror. "Just focusing on the timeline."
In the ballroom, the lighting team was creating magic. Crimson and gold illumination transformed the space, casting dramatic shadows and highlighting architectural details. As I entered, the systems responded to my presence, brightening subtly.
"Ms. Davenport," the lead technician called. "Perfect timing. We're testing the atmospheric controls. Would you like to see the sequence?"
Before I could respond, one of the main fixtures sparked dramatically, sending a shower of golden embers across the floor.
"System overload," a technician shouted. "Cut the power!"
I felt the power surge within me, responding to the electrical discharge. The moment it sparked, my hand was alreadymoving. Not a decision, just instinct. Like the power wanted to fix it before I did.
Without thinking, I raised my hand, and the system immediately stabilized. The erratic energy smoothed out into balanced illumination.
