CALISTA'S POV
They lock me in the bridal preparation chamber, and I immediately start breaking things.
The mirror goes first—I throw a candlestick and it shatters into a thousand pieces. Then the perfume bottles. The jewelry boxes. Anything breakable within reach.
"MY SISTER IS GOING TO DIE!" I scream at the locked door. "LET ME OUT!"
No one answers.
I collapse against the wall, chest heaving, knuckles bleeding from where I punched the mirror. Six hours. That's all the time I have to save Lyra and somehow survive my own wedding night without killing Theron.
It's impossible.
But I have to try.
I stand up, forcing myself to think. Theron said I was smart. That I built failsafes. That pieces of me are still fighting even when I don't remember.
So what would Smart Calista do?
I look around the room with new eyes. This isn't just a prison—it's an opportunity. They want me to get ready for the wedding here. Which means there must be wedding clothes. Supplies. Things I can use.
I start searching.
The wardrobe holds a white wedding dress—simpler than the others I've worn, but still beautiful. I tear through the fabric, checking for hidden pockets or sewn-in objects.
Nothing.
The dressing table has makeup, pins, brushes. I pocket the pins—they're metal, sharp. Potential weapons.
The bathroom has soap, towels, a small window too high to reach.
I'm running out of options when I notice something odd about the floor.
One tile near the bathtub is slightly raised.
My heart pounds as I kneel down and pry it loose. Underneath is a small hollow space, and inside—
A letter.
My hands shake as I unfold it. The handwriting is mine, but neater than my current scrawl:
Calista (Fifth Reset),
If you're reading this, your sixth wedding is approaching. By now you've probably met Theron. TRUST HIM. I know it's hard. I know you don't remember him. But he's the only one who's stayed loyal to us through everything.
The memory anchors are real. I've hidden six more around the palace:1. The Academy library—shelf 47, behind the astronomy books2. Mother's old garden—buried under the white rose bush3. The throne room—inside the left armrest of the Queen's throne4. Theron's office—inside the hollowed-out book titled "Lies We Tell"5. The Sanguine Vaults—you've already found this one if you're reading this letter6. Lyra's bedroom—sewn into her favorite teddy bear
Each anchor holds a piece of our true self. Collect them before the seventh wedding, or the curse will complete and we'll die.
Also: the curse has a weakness. Blood-magic requires consent at its core. Vaskir couldn't curse us without our permission, which means somewhere, somehow, we agreed to this. Find out WHY. That's the key to breaking it.
Don't give up. We're stronger than they think.
—Your Fifth Self
P.S. If they've moved the wedding up suddenly, it's because Theron is getting too close to the truth. The Queen will try to kill you both before you can break free. FIGHT BACK.
I read the letter three times, memorizing every word.
Six memory anchors. Six pieces of myself scattered around the palace.
And I have six hours to collect them while also somehow saving Lyra from execution.
It's still impossible.
But now it's impossible with a plan.
I fold the letter carefully and tuck it into my undergarments—the one place guards won't search. Then I hammer on the door again.
"I need to see someone!" I shout. "I have rights! Even prisoners get last requests!"
Silence.
Then: "What do you want?" A guard's voice, muffled through the door.
"I want to see Lord Theron. My husband-to-be. Before the wedding." I make my voice shake. Desperate. Broken. "Please. Just five minutes. I need to—to apologize. For what I'm going to do to him tonight."
More silence.
Then the lock clicks.
The door opens, and Captain Vex stands there with two guards. Her scarred face is unreadable.
"Five minutes," she says. "Under supervision. And Lady Calista? If you try anything, I will personally ensure your sister's death is slower and more painful than planned."
I nod, not trusting my voice.
They escort me through the palace. Servants and nobles press themselves against the walls as we pass—the Poison Bride, on her way to another victim.
Let them stare. I don't care anymore.
We reach a study, and Theron is inside, pacing like a caged animal. When he sees me, relief floods his face.
"Calista—"
"Five minutes," Vex interrupts, positioning guards at the door. "I'll be right outside. Behave."
She leaves but doesn't close the door. We have privacy, but we're being watched.
Theron crosses the room immediately, taking my hands. "Are you alright?"
"No." I speak quietly, aware of listening ears. "But I found something. A letter from my fifth self. She left instructions."
His eyes sharpen. "Where?"
"The bridal chamber. Hidden under a tile." I squeeze his hands, trying to communicate urgency. "Six memory anchors. Six locations. We need to collect them before tonight."
"That's impossible. You're locked up. I'm being watched. Lyra's execution is in—" he glances at the window, "—four hours. We can't be in six places at once."
"Then we split up." I pull the letter from its hiding place and press it into his hand. "You get the anchors. I'll save Lyra."
"Absolutely not. You'll be caught."
"I'm already caught." I meet his eyes. "But you have your time-sight thing, right? You can avoid the guards. I can't."
He stares at me. "How do you know about my time-sight?"
"I don't. Not really. But when you grabbed my hand during the throne room chaos, I felt something. Like you were existing three seconds ahead of everyone else." I squeeze his hands tighter. "I may not remember you, Theron, but my body does. My magic recognizes yours. We were partners. In research and—" I hesitate. "—and maybe something more?"
His expression cracks. Pain and hope war across his face.
"We were going to be," he whispers. "Before they took you from me."
"Then help me become her again." I pull back, aware our time is running out. "Get the anchors. I'll create a distraction at the execution and get Lyra out. We'll meet back here before the wedding."
"That's a terrible plan."
"It's the only plan we have."
"You'll die."
"I've been dying for three years." I touch his face—an impulse I don't understand but can't resist. "At least this way, I get to choose how."
He catches my hand, holding it against his cheek. "Calista—Elara—whoever you are right now—I need you to know something."
"What?"
"If this goes wrong. If I can't save you. If tonight ends the way the Queen wants—" His voice breaks. "—I need you to know that loving you has been the greatest honor of my life. Even when you couldn't remember me. Even when you looked at me like a stranger. Every second was worth it."
My chest tightens. Tears blur my vision.
"Don't talk like we've already lost."
"I'm not. I'm talking like a man who needs to say things before it's too late." He leans forward, presses his forehead to mine. "Come back to me, Calista. However you can. Whatever pieces of you survive. I'll love them all."
The door bangs open. Vex is back.
"Time's up. Lady Calista returns to the bridal chamber. Lord Theron, your presence is required at the execution preparation."
They pull us apart.
As guards drag me away, I mouth to Theron: The anchors. Get them all.
He nods once. Then guards block my view, and he's gone.
Back in the bridal chamber, I pace like an animal.
Four hours until Lyra dies.
Six hours until I try to murder Theron.
I need to escape this room. But how?
I check the window again—too high, too small. The door is locked and guarded. The walls are solid stone.
Think. Think like the smart girl you used to be.
My eyes fall on the wedding dress.
White silk. Expensive. But also... flammable.
A terrible, desperate idea forms.
I grab the dress and tear it into strips, piling them in the center of the room. Then I use the candlestick to set them on fire.
The fabric catches immediately.
Smoke fills the room fast—thick, black, choking.
I cover my mouth with a wet towel and hammer on the door. "FIRE! HELP! FIRE!"
Shouts outside. The lock clicks.
Guards burst in, coughing, trying to see through the smoke.
I don't hesitate.
I grab one guard's sword—using his confusion against him—and slam the pommel into his temple. He drops.
The second guard lunges for me, but I'm already moving, ducking under his arms and shoving him into the burning pile. He screams, beating at his smoking clothes.
I run.
Out the door, down the corridor, following half-remembered paths through the palace.
Behind me: alarms. Shouts. Running footsteps.
They're coming.
But I have a head start, and I have purpose burning in my chest hotter than any fire.
I'm going to save my sister.
I'm going to collect my stolen memories.
And then I'm going to marry Theron Blackthorn and break every curse that's ever touched my life.
Or die trying.
I round a corner and slam directly into someone.
We both fall.
I scramble for the dropped sword, ready to fight—
And freeze.
The person I knocked down is Vaskir.
The blood-mage smiles up at me from the floor, not even winded.
"Going somewhere, little weapon?" His black eyes gleam. "The execution is the other direction. Unless..." His smile widens. "Unless you're not actually trying to save your sister at all. Unless you're trying to collect those silly memory anchors. Which would mean you found one of your own letters. How delightful."
Terror floods through me.
He knew. He knew about the letters, the anchors, everything.
This was a test.
And I just failed.
Vaskir stands, dusting off his robes. "The Queen will be so pleased. You're becoming predictable, Calista. That makes you less useful." He raises his hand, magic crackling around his fingers. "I think it's time for an early reset. Let's erase everything you learned today, shall we? Including Lord Theron's confession. Wouldn't want you getting soft during tonight's murder."
"No—" I back away, but there's nowhere to go.
"Yes." His magic reaches for me, black and hungry.
This is it. I'm about to lose everything again.
But then—
A blade erupts from Vaskir's chest.
He looks down, shocked, at the sword protruding from his ribs.
Behind him stands Sera—my maid—holding the weapon with steady hands.
"I told you," she says coldly. "I'm protecting this girl. Even from monsters like you."
Vaskir falls, blood pooling beneath him.
Sera grabs my arm. "We need to go. NOW. His death will alert every guard in the palace."
"You just killed the Queen's blood-mage," I gasp.
"I know. And I'd do it again." She pulls me into a run. "Your sister is in the east dungeon. I'll get you there. But after that, you're on your own. Understand?"
"Why are you helping me?"
She glances back, and in her eyes I see something I never noticed before: fierce loyalty. Grief. Love.
"Because your mother saved my life once," she says. "And I swore I'd protect her daughters. Both of them. No matter what."
We run through the palace together, and for the first time in three years, I'm not alone.