Chapter 1: The Fall and the Curse

I remember the moment before it all began—the city air thick with tension, the clock tower looming above me. Then it happened: The Queen had me strung up from the city clock tower, left to dangle for three days and three nights. Not executed, not dead—just suspended, put on display for everyone to see, my body aching and my mind racing.

The wind up there never let up, howling around me, cold enough to cut right through you. My teeth chattered, and I thought about how the cold made every part of me hurt. Every hour, like clockwork. Literally. Right on the hour, when the bells rang out, a court official would trudge up those narrow steps, stand beneath me, crane his neck, and shout up: Did I agree to become her official consort?

I stayed silent, refusing to even say the word 'no.' My lips pressed tight, jaw aching. I was determined. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction—not a single sound. The city below kept moving, but I was stuck in that strange, aching silence, the whole world watching.

Until she came herself, dressed in regal gold. She told me my Lila had jumped to her death.

Her voice was steady, but her eyes—wild and frantic, darting around like a trapped animal. Her hand shook as she held up the letter. My blood ran cold. For a second, I couldn’t even hear the city anymore. It was just her, her crown catching the sunlight, and those words that shattered everything I knew.

With every ounce of strength I had left, I broke the rope. I fell from the clock tower.

I felt the fibers give way, the sudden jolt of freedom and terror. For a heartbeat, the sky above Silver Hollow spun wildly, the clock face shrinking away. There was nothing but wind in my ears, and the memory of Lila’s laughter bursting in my mind. Then—

If we couldn’t share a bed in life, then we sure as hell weren’t sharing a grave.

It was a bitter thought, sharp as broken glass. But it was all I had left. I didn’t want to rest beside her, not after what they’d done to us. If the world wouldn’t let us live together, then at least let us die on our own terms. I clenched my fists.

Guess I might as well go out the same way.

I shut my eyes, bracing for the end. For a split second, I pictured the city square below—a place where we used to ride bikes as kids, where Lila beat me in a race and laughed so hard she almost fell off her bike. I could still hear her giggle, bright and breathless.

Later, the officers of the underworld told me that on that day, the Queen held my body in her arms. Her hair turned white overnight, and she lost her mind for the rest of her life.

They told it like a legend, voices dropping to a hush. They said she screamed my name until her voice was gone, her hands smeared red with my blood. From that moment, she wandered the palace halls, a hollow ghost, never uttering my name again.

I died.

I died right in front of Queen Caroline.

I can still see her face, the shock and grief twisting her features. She told me my Lila had jumped to her death, so what reason did I have to stay in this world? None.

I had to go find my Lila. It was the only thing that made sense.

My soul drifted aimlessly in the underworld, numb and lost. Lila had always been terrified of heights since she was a kid—how could she have jumped?

I kept replaying it, over and over. The way she’d freeze up at the edge of any rooftop, clutching my arm so tight her knuckles turned white. She never even liked the Ferris wheel at the county fair. No way she’d leap from anywhere high. It made no sense. It felt like some kind of sick joke.