Aurelis night time

  We returned to the Centurion suite with our designer bags dragging what was left of our dignity behind us.

  The hallway smelled of expensive perfume and exhaustion, as if the building itself understood what Celestine had put us through.

  Velka walked in first, barefoot, tossing her shoes onto the couch as if she had just defeated Celestine in a duel.

  Nerya checked her phone, answered a couple of emails with automatic efficiency, and let her coat slide off onto a chair, exhaling like someone surrendering a weapon.

  Caelia and I barely exchanged a glance. We both knew that if either of us spoke, the bubble —that delicious and ugly film clinging to our skin— would burst.

  Velka dropped onto the thick carpet, arms wide, breathing as if the suite were a temporary paradise.

  —You know what? —she muttered, her voice muffled by laughter— I could get used to being Aurelis’ favorite trash.

  Her laughter vibrated all the way to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the neon city. The lights outside responded like a pleased echo.

  Nerya turned slowly. For a moment she was the strategist again, cold and calculating… but then she sighed, resigned, and opened the minibar.

  The bottles were lined up like soldiers, gleaming under the soft light Aurelis had so carefully chosen for us.

  —One shot —she declared, with the solemnity of a military order—. To accept that maybe… just maybe… this isn’t as miserable as we claim.

  Velka shot upright, clapping.

  —Yes, General Solvine! At your command.

  Caelia folded her arms but didn’t pull away when Nerya handed her a tequila shot with salt and a perfectly cut slice of lime —the kind of detail that revealed just how much Aurelis wanted to please us.

  I held mine between trembling fingers. The glass was cold; the liquid smelled like burning and excuses.

  No heroic toast followed.

  Only Velka dared to speak:

  —To Aurelis… to us… and to not turning into witches this week.

  Her voice pierced me like a blessed nail —light, cruel, honest.

  We laughed.

  And we took the shot in one go.

  The fire slid across my tongue, down my throat, into my stomach, igniting everything the day had numbed. For a moment —a very small one, almost a lie— the guilt dissolved in that clear liquor.

  For a moment, we weren’t symbols.

  We weren’t political projects.

  We were just magical girls.

  Just friends.

  Just… as human as Aurelis needed us to believe we were.

  I woke before Velka, before Nerya, even before Caelia.

  The entire suite was wrapped in a velvet silence; only the distant murmur of Aurelis breathing beyond the windows.

  For the first time since we arrived, I didn’t feel the need to drag my feet. It was as if my body had learned a new choreography overnight. My hips seemed to remember their axis on their own as I walked barefoot across the cold marble; the hem of my thin nightgown brushing down my thighs… and I didn’t care.

  Not even a flicker of modesty crossed my mind as I pushed open the glass door and let the terrace air lick the exposed skin of my shoulders.

  Aurelis shimmered below like an ocean of mirrors. I felt like part of it. Of the city. Of its sweet poison.

  —Since when do you stroll around like that? —Caelia asked from the doorway, her voice low, but without a hint of judgment.

  I turned slightly, aware of the feline, deliberate movement—like something in me had been retouched while I slept.

  —Does it bother you? —I asked, half teasing, half honest.

  Caelia shook her head with a tired, crooked smile as the breeze tugged at her tied hair.

  —No. I’m just… noting that this city dresses us and undresses us whenever it wants —she murmured, stepping closer—. Even I’m starting to find nothing wrong with it.

  I didn’t answer. I simply closed my eyes and let the morning light mark my back, tattooing another invisible chain onto my skin.

  Velka appeared first, hair a mess, grumbling, “Who does the universe think I am, waking up at this hour?”

  Nerya came after her—perfect as a mirror, though the dark circles beneath her eyes betrayed the insomnia of her hyperactive mind.

  We had breakfast together. Fruit cut like jewels. Black coffee in black porcelain. No one said much.

  The suite felt as if it were holding its breath.

  Until the phone vibrated against the table.

  A special notification.

  Ahnna Lux — Direct Line.

  Velka nearly choked laughing.

  —Ooh, princess… your number-one fan.

  But Caelia was the one who answered, with the kind of authority that never needed to be announced. She handed me the receiver without a word.

  Ahnna’s voice slid in like a caress wrapped around perfumed blades.

  —Good morning, Lyssandra Velcrux… —she purred, each syllable calibrated to feel intimate—. I thought that, since Aurelis is polishing you so beautifully, you might accompany me today to something… special.

  My breath caught for an instant.

  —A photoshoot. Just you and me. A fantasy for Aurelis. A gift for those who imagine you… and for someone else as well.

  There was a soft pause, the faint rustle of jewelry, a breath like lace slipping against silk.

  —Oh… and one more thing, Lyssandra Velcrux.

  A chill ran down my spine.

  —Bring me the small one. That… Neyra.

  Her tone melted into a poisoned compliment.

  —She has a way of walking that seems to shine under its own spotlight. Aurelis wants to see her without shadows, just like you.

  I didn’t speak. Velka and Caelia tensed beside me. Nerya froze halfway to her next sip of coffee.

  But Ahnna continued, as if biting into a very red strawberry.

  —Your other goddesses may come if they wish… it is always fascinating to have witnesses. But you and Neyra…

  A gentle tap of her nails against the receiver.

  —You two cannot be absent. At noon. Dress like a fantasy, princesses.

  The cold click severed the line.

  My hands trembled for a second. Neyra, sitting only a few steps away, lifted her gaze; her silver eyes met mine.

  She didn’t need to say anything. There was no turning back.

  Ahnna arrived on time.

  Not a minute late. Not a hair out of place.

  The white limousine—long as a whispered promise—waited at the revolving doors of the Pendelton.

  Velka clicked her tongue when she saw Neyra, immaculate in her pale dress, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

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  —If she kidnaps you, Neyra, don’t pay ransom. I already have a princess —she shouted, amused, before disappearing into the lobby.

  I took a deep breath.

  Neyra, silent, positioned herself at my side.

  The doors of the limousine closed behind us with a click that sounded far more like a cage than a vehicle.

  Ahnna Lux was reclined on the leather seat like a bored queen surveying her court.

  A sheer organza coat draped over her bare shoulders; her ivory skin caught the reflected glow of the embedded screen on the door.

  When she lifted her gaze, her eyes —a pale, liquid gold— seemed to spill honey from how brightly they shone.

  She smiled. A smile soft as a slap wrapped like a gift.

  —My two imported jewels… —she purred, letting the words float as she slid her fingers across the screen, checking messages she would never allow us to see—. Are you nervous?

  Neyra answered first, her voice so precise it sounded rehearsed.

  —No. It’s just a session, right?

  Ahnna turned her head slowly, as if her neck were made of silk and danger. She held Neyra’s gaze with a broken tenderness, too perfect to be real.

  —Yes… just a session. A fantasy of flesh and light. Aurelis needs to see you as never before. And I…

  Her eyes shifted to me. Sweet as freshly sharpened knives.

  —I need someone very special to see you… the way I see you.

  I didn’t understand what she meant.

  But Neyra did. Or perhaps she understood too well. She swallowed, the sound audible in the perfumed silence of the limousine. Her reflection in the window revealed her hands tensing over her flawless skirt.

  Ahnna let out a soft laugh, a sound that seemed capable of making the air itself vibrate.

  —Relax, my relics of Seravenn. Today, no one will watch you fight. They will watch you exist. Beautiful, vulnerable… and entirely theirs.

  She leaned forward, close enough that I could feel the warmth of her skin, the floral perfume that skirted the edge of intoxicating.

  Her breath grazed my ear as she whispered:

  —And don’t forget to smile… Today, Aurelis wants to taste you.

  The limousine turned onto Aurelis’ main avenue, gliding toward a district of private studios where even the pavement looked freshly polished for our arrival.

  Flashes were already waiting behind the security barrier—eager, ravenous, as if they sensed something worthy of worship approaching.

  Neyra and I said nothing.

  Because we both knew that the moment we stepped out, we would no longer be just ourselves.

  We would become projections. Faces. Fantasies ready to be consumed.

  The limousine door opened, and an eruption of flashes burst instantly, like a newborn star.

  Ahnna stepped out first: her bare back beneath a pearly coat, moving with the grace of someone who understands perfectly the power of being watched. She greeted the crowd with that smile of hers—the one that promised forgiveness for any sin… even before committing it.

  Neyra and I followed, each step amplifying the echo of our heels on the makeshift walkway connecting the street to the studio. That sound—sharp, clear—felt like a sentence being handed down.

  A glass door closed behind us.

  Outside, the city roared.

  Inside… the silence was an altar.

  The first thing I noticed was the perfect cold, calibrated with the precision of someone who understands bare skin as a sacred canvas.

  White walls reflecting the light like blades.

  Suspended lights hanging overhead like captured stars.

  Cameras mounted on automated rails—eyelidless eyes, incapable of blinking, ready to devour every angle.

  A silent assistant—quiet as a ghost in a black tie—guided us down a side corridor.

  Two identical dressing rooms waited for us, their open doors like sweet mouths:

  lit mirrors, a long table… and on top of it, the trap disguised in velvet.

  Laid out on satin hangers, breathing vanilla and floral perfume, were the outfits that made me swallow so hard it hurt.

  They were beauty and sentence.

  The first: a set of translucent black lace, paired with a corset that shaped the chest like a dark jewel. Thin straps embraced the hips, leaving the back almost bare—vulnerable, perfect.

  The second: a milk-white tulle robe, long and ethereal, designed to open with every movement… an invitation to reveal more skin than fabric.

  The third: an ivory silk bodysuit, so tight it looked painted onto the body, with side cutouts tracing the silhouette in soft, dangerous lines.

  Then: fishnet stockings, lace garters, stilettos gleaming like freshly minted sins.

  And finally, minimal jewelry: velvet chokers, fine bracelets, pale-gem rings. Details whispering high-fashion temptation.

  Ahnna let out a soft laugh at our faces, a sound that knew exactly where to press.

  —They are living works of art —she said, running a finger along the black lace as if blessing an altar—. Today, you’re not warriors. You’re not diplomats. Today, you are pure desire, shaped for Aurelis.

  Her golden eyes found mine, savoring my reaction.

  —Relax, Lyssandra. Be grateful the press isn’t here… yet.

  Her hands slid over a bodysuit, then rested on one of the corsets.

  —First, something soft. After… maybe something bolder. Trust me.

  I didn’t have time to open my mouth.

  She was already turning toward Neyra.

  With a tone almost maternal, though venom simmered beneath:

  —You shine more than you think, little queen of numbers. Today I want to see how you shine without hiding behind Lyss.

  And without waiting for an answer, she pivoted on her heels and left, leaving her perfume and poison suspended in the air.

  The click of the door closing was sharper than a slam.

  Silence.

  Neyra and I stood before the table.

  Lace. Tulle. Silk. Sin.

  Neyra spoke first, her voice so soft it seemed to bite into itself.

  —What the hell did we get ourselves into…?

  I looked at her.

  She did not look away from the garments.

  Her hand brushed the white tulle, weighing it between her slender fingers.

  The confusion in her eyes fractured…

  and for a moment, something emerged that frightened me: curiosity.

  And pleasure.

  My skin burned.

  Outside, Aurelis would be applauding.

  Inside… we were about to surrender without realizing it.

  Then they arrived: two makeup artists, a stylist, and one of Ahnna’s assistants.

  Four pairs of hands on our faces, our necks, our hair.

  Sprays, pearlescent powders, brushes soft as a cat’s tongue.

  One of them lined my eyes with such delicate precision that the person in the mirror no longer looked like me.

  Neyra —initially tense as a drawn wire— exhaled slowly as a white-bristled comb swept her bangs aside, revealing her silver gaze completely.

  Between us, an uneasy silence…

  broken only by the assistant’s forced laughter.

  They dressed us in the “soft” set.

  For me, the ivory silk bodysuit: shoulders almost bare, the fabric clinging to my chest like a second skin breathing with me.

  For Neyra, the milk-white tulle robe tied with a satin bow under the bust; every step made the fabric part just slightly, revealing flashes of her pale stomach.

  When we came out, Ahnna was waiting beside the white cyclorama.

  Her own outfit was a translucent bodysuit covered in tiny gemstones that glittered like dew under the lights.

  She looked like a goddess who had intentionally fallen, fully aware of the effect she created.

  She looked at us slowly.

  Her eyes —that poisoned honey— landed on me first… then anchored themselves in Neyra, as if discovering her anew.

  —Beautiful —she whispered, grazing the ribbon of Neyra’s tulle without actually touching it—. And you… little silver queen… sometimes I envy that purity you have. Despite not having…

  Her gaze dropped slightly: Neyra’s modest chest, her narrow hips.

  —…you shine like a unique beacon. I only reflect desire; you create it without realizing it.

  Neyra tensed, lips parted.

  She didn’t know what to say.

  I held my breath.

  Ahnna smiled like someone planting a carnivorous flower inside a willing mind.

  They placed me standing, hands crossed over my stomach, eyes toward the camera: uncomfortable… yet aware that my silhouette no longer embarrassed me.

  The lights embraced me as they never had before, and for the first time, my own skin felt like something I could inhabit.

  Neyra…

  At first she stood stiff, fingers clenched around the ribbon of the robe. Her breathing was a question without words.

  But Ahnna slipped behind her, whispering:

  —Look at me, not at the lens.

  And Neyra obeyed.

  She loosened the satin bow just a little.

  The tulle slid down her collarbone as if recognizing her.

  Click.

  Click.

  Each shot was a new tattoo: Neyra more open. More certain. More surrendered.

  They made us change.

  Neyra emerged in the black corset, garters, and fishnets that bit softly into her thigh like a shared secret.

  They wrapped me in sheer black lace, my back exposed, breathing carefully as if I might break the fabric with my chest.

  The poses required closeness:

  Me seated.

  Neyra standing behind me.

  Her hand resting on my bare shoulder.

  Ahnna watched, directing every nuance.

  —Closer… trust each other. You’re not rivals today. You’re art.

  And Neyra obeyed.

  Redder each moment.

  Stronger each breath.

  Her hands no longer trembled on my exposed skin.

  Mine didn’t either.

  To finish, Ahnna chose the fitted bodysuit for me and a bolder version for Neyra: backless, with a deep side-cut that made her silhouette seem newly awakened.

  Neyra no longer pretended discomfort.

  Her gaze was that of someone hearing “you are desired” for the very first time —and believing it.

  The final shots:

  Knees brushing.

  Backs arched.

  Fingers playing with strands of hair.

  Breaths syncing without us noticing.

  Ahnna watched from a meter away, the gaze of a perverse sculptor pleased with her creation.

  She stepped close enough for her shadow to fall over us.

  —Perfect… my relics. Aurelis loves you more every second.

  And the camera fired the last shot like a seal.

  The lights went out.

  For a moment, the studio seemed to breathe with us.

  Neyra let out a soft, disbelieving gasp as she touched the corset with her fingertips.

  She looked at herself in the mirror as if she were seeing another woman. Or as if, for the first time, she accepted that there was something beautiful in her she had never allowed herself to acknowledge.

  I did the same.

  I didn’t feel ashamed.

  I felt… beautiful.

  And even though I knew that feeling carried Aurelis’ sweet poison, it still bit me. And I still liked it.

  Ahnna smiled as she watched us —a satisfied, dangerous smile— before leaving the set, her expensive perfume trailing behind her.

  —Rest, my goddesses. You can’t yet imagine how many already want to possess you…

  Her voice lingered in the empty cyclorama.

  We changed slowly, our skin still burning from the touch of the lights.

  Neyra, standing before the mirror, loosened her hair a little; she brushed her painted lashes with a gesture I had never seen from her.

  She looked like she was… admiring herself.

  Awakening.

  —You know something, Lyss? —she murmured, her voice soft, almost drowsy from so much praise—. You look beautiful even without cameras.

  Her reflection gave me a small, satisfied smile, like someone discovering a gentle secret.

  I took a deep breath.

  The lace still burned on my back, even though it was already tucked away in a satin bag.

  We stepped out of the dressing room.

  I searched for my phone in my bag while Neyra walked a few steps ahead, stroking the black ribbon of the gift bag Ahnna had left for her.

  That’s why I didn’t see him.

  I didn’t see anything until I collided with something solid.

  A firm shoulder.

  A familiar scent.

  An impact I recognized before my eyes did.

  I looked up.

  Words died in my throat.

  Silas.