"Colin? What are you doing out here?" Prince Henry's voice cut through the corridor, sharp with urgency as he crossed the hall in long strides. Colin stood just outside Princess Helena's chamber, his posture rigid, his face drawn tight with something close to dread.
Colin said nothing.
Before he could gather himself, Prince Henry pushed past him and entered the room without knocking.
Helena stood before her dressing table, hands resting on the carved wood as if it were the only thing keeping her upright. She did not turn immediately. Her reflection in the mirror looked pale, distant, like someone already half gone. Whatever fire once lived behind her eyes had dimmed, smothered beneath the weight of what awaited her.
In mere hours, she would belong to a demon.
"Helena?" Henry said softly.
She blinked, slow and heavy, then finally met his gaze through the mirror.
Henry stepped closer, his voice breaking as he spoke, "I don't know what else to say anymore. I've searched every path, spoken every prayer, made every bargain I could think of. I even offered myself in your place." A bitter laugh escaped him, "They wouldn't take me. Nothing we gave them was enough."
Helena turned sharply, her eyes flashing not with anger, but with something far more dangerous, resignation.
"Enough, Henry," she said flatly, "I think you've done enough. There's nothing left to fight. This is my fate." Her voice trembled despite her effort to steady it, "In a few hours, I'll be gone. Whether I suffer or disappear entirely hardly matters now. I've already lost myself."
"Helena..." Henry whispered, tears spilling freely down his face.
She shook her head, "Please don't," she said quietly, "Don't grieve me while I'm still standing here. This was decided long before either of us had a choice. Sealed by Father's promises and God's silence. There's no undoing it."
Henry could barely breathe. He pulled her into his arms, resting his chin against her hair, his hands trembling as he held her.
"I love you," he murmured, "No matter what happens. No matter where you are."
Helena said nothing. She simply stared at their reflection in the mirror. Brother and sister, clinging to one another like children caught in a storm, they could not outrun.
And after a long moment, Henry drew back slightly, "There's… something else," he said hesitantly, "Tradition says the bride is escorted before the ceremony."
Helena stiffened and pulled away, her eyes narrowing, "What are you saying?"
Henry swallowed, "Let me help you prepare. Just this once. As your brother."
Her disbelief cut sharply, "Prepare?" she snapped, "You mean dress me in white and pretend this is holy? Have me stand before an altar and swear vows that mean nothing to God or to Hell?"
Henry flinched. That was not what he had meant. He had only wanted to give her comfort, some final proof that she was not alone. But the words had come out wrong.
"I didn't mean that." he started, then stopped.
There was nothing left to say.
Without another word, Prince Henry turned and left the chamber, his shoulders heavy, his steps unsteady. Colin remained frozen in place, torn between duty and guilt, as the door closed behind Henry, leaving Princess Helena alone with the ticking clock and the sound of distant bells waiting to toll.