Ines sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor of her room, while the flickering light of a single candle cast dancing shadows on the walls. The ornate bed behind her was untouched, the covers carefully folded. She hadn't slept a wink since the day her engagement had been announced. Tomorrow she would have to appear before the court as the future wife of Ian Estalto, the seventh prince of Elandria, and the very thought made her stomach churn.
But that night, the ceremony wasn't what occupied her mind. Her gaze was fixed on the faint glow emanating from the mark on her chest. The mysterious rhythmic hum that had always accompanied it seemed stronger now, resonating through her body like a heartbeat. She pressed a hand to the mark, half hoping it would settle, half wishing it would reveal something—anything—about what it was trying to tell her.
"I need to understand what it means," she murmured to herself, brushing a lock of hair from her face.
She had avoided confronting the issue since her arrival in that world, afraid of what her magic might unleash if she dared to push too far. But now, with the court's eyes fixed on her, she could no longer afford to remain ignorant. If her magic truly made her a threat—or a target—she had to understand it. Control it.
She took a deep breath and focused her thoughts. The room around her seemed to fade, her mind slipping into a state that felt strangely familiar. It was like staring at a blank document, waiting for the first lines of code to appear. She closed her eyes and imagined the world not as it was, but as it could be—flexible, malleable, ready to change.
"Rewrite," she whispered, the word slipping from her lips like a command.
The air around her grew dense, the hum of her magic intensified. The mark glowed with light, and in her mind she saw it—a shimmering matrix of symbols and equations, constantly shifting, pulsing, alive. It was code, just like in her former life, but also something more—something fluid and organic. Mentally, she reached out, her fingers twitching as if typing on an invisible keyboard.
"Candle.light increase," she wrote, imagining the flame growing stronger.
The symbols shifted, rearranging in response to her command. The candle flickered, its flame swelling slightly before stabilizing. A thrill of excitement ran through her—she had done it. Her magic had obeyed her.
Encouraged, she tried again. "Wind create," she wrote, visualizing a soft breeze swaying the curtains.
This time, the symbols resisted, twisting in ways she hadn't expected. The air in the room turned frigid, a sudden wind blew out the candle, plunging her into darkness. Ines gasped, her concentration broken. The hum of her magic vanished, leaving her chest aching and her hands trembling.
She remained seated for a moment, breathing unevenly as she tried to process what had just happened. The magic was powerful—more than she had anticipated—but also unstable. It didn't respond like the orderly systems she had been used to in her previous life. It felt alive, almost temperamental, as if it had a will of its own.
"Okay," she said aloud, her voice trembling but resolute. "It's not going to be as simple as I thought."
Fumbling in the dark, she found the candle and relit it with still-trembling fingers. The flickering flame cast a warm glow around her, but it wasn't enough to dispel the lingering chill in the air.
She leaned against the edge of the bed and couldn't help but wonder: If I can rewrite reality, why does it feel like reality is trying to rewrite me?
Tomorrow she would face the court, the emperor, and Ian. But that night, she was alone with her magic—and for the first time, she didn't know which of the two scared her more.
__________________
Ines was still sitting on the floor, the candlelight casting unsettling shadows on the walls, when she heard a soft knock at the door. She frowned. It was late—too late for anyone to be visiting.
"Ines, are you awake?" asked a familiar voice from the other side.
"Elien?" she replied, rising and brushing off her nightgown. She crossed the room and opened the door, finding not one, but both of her brothers standing there. Elien, the craftier of the two, was grinning from ear to ear, while Elias, next to him, had his arms crossed and wore a slightly embarrassed expression.
"What are you doing here?" Ines asked, casting a nervous glance down the hallway. If their parents or the palace staff caught them wandering around at this hour, they'd be in trouble.
Elien stepped closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone. "We've come to rescue you, obviously."
"Rescue me?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow. "From what?"
"From yourself," Elias cut in, stepping forward. "You've been locked in this room for days, brooding over everything. You need a break."
Ines crossed her arms, eyeing them with suspicion. "And what exactly do you have in mind?"
Elien's grin widened. "There's a festival in the city tonight. Music, food, dancing—everything you need to relax before the big day."
Ines hesitated. The idea of sneaking out of the palace for a festival the night before her engagement ceremony was absurd… and incredibly tempting. "You do realize the trouble we'll be in if we get caught, right?"
"That's why we won't get caught," Elien replied, pulling out a hooded cloak and draping it over her shoulders. "Come on, Ines. When's the last time you really had fun?"
She looked at her brothers, their identical faces a mix of mischief and genuine concern. They weren't wrong. She had been so consumed by magic, the court, and her looming engagement that she hadn't let herself breathe.
"Alright," she said, fastening the cloak at her neck. "But if we get caught, it's all your fault."
"Deal," Elien said with a wink. He took her hand, and before she could change her mind, the three of them were already moving through the palace corridors, their footsteps muffled by thick carpets.
The city was alive with the colors and sounds of the festival. Golden lanterns hung from every building, lighting the cobblestone streets. Spiced aromas filled the air, while laughter and music echoed down the alleys. For a while, Ines allowed herself to be swept up in the night's magic, forgetting all her worries.
But just as she was beginning to relax, a glint of silver caught her eye. A hooded man was moving among the stalls, his posture too stiff, too deliberate. A shiver ran down her spine.
"Ines?" Elias turned to her.
She shook the thought away and forced a smile. "Nothing. Let's keep going."
But the suspicion lingered. And as they plunged deeper into the festive crowd, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her.
_______________
Elien, always the most curious of the three, spotted a stall featuring a mechanical dragon that spat harmless little flames. Without a second thought, he darted toward it.
"I'm going to beat the high score!" he shouted, laughing.
"Elien, wait!" Elias called after him, but it was too late. Elien had already slapped a coin onto the counter, ready to play.
Ines sighed, crossing her arms. "He never thinks before acting."
"Almost never," Elias replied, shaking his head.
The game seemed simple: hit as many moving targets as possible while avoiding the dragon's fire bursts. Elien laughed as he grabbed a wooden slingshot and began striking targets with surprising precision. But something was wrong. The dragon started to move erratically, its joints sparking, the flames growing larger and more uncontrolled.
Ines frowned. Something's wrong.
"Elien, step back," she warned, her voice tense.
Elien froze, but before he could move, the dragon let out a loud metallic screech and suddenly unleashed a chaotic blast of fire. The crowd screamed and scattered, but Elien remained frozen in place, eyes wide as the flames surged toward him.
"Elien!" Ines cried, her body moving before her mind could even form a plan.
The hum of her magic exploded within her, the mark on her chest flaring brightly. Before her eyes, a transparent window opened—like a video game prompt—with a blinking cursor waiting for input.
Enter command:
Her fingers moved through the air, typing frantically on the ethereal keyboard that appeared before her.
FireRedirect(target: sky, intensity: 50%)
"Rewrite!"
The code reacted instantly. The magical symbols flashed, collided, and reconfigured in the blink of an eye.
Error.
The prompt flashed red.
Unstable command. Energy overload.
Abort impossible.
Ines's eyes widened as the code twisted in on itself, breaking apart. The dragon exploded in a burst of fire, and the flames split in multiple directions, setting nearby stalls ablaze. The shockwave knocked her off her feet, sending her crashing to her knees, exhausted.
"Ines!" Elias was at her side in an instant, helping her up as she trembled. "What happened? Are you okay?"
"I... I don't know," she stammered, her chest burning from the effort. "Where… where's Elien?"
Before Elias could answer, a figure emerged from the smoke, carrying a dazed but unharmed Elien over his shoulder. The man gently set him down and brushed off the dust with a casual gesture.
Ines's eyes widened. Those silver eyes…
"Ian?" she whispered, her voice hoarse with shock.
The seventh prince looked at her with an unreadable expression before replying in his usual dismissive tone, "I was enjoying my evening in disguise until your little show nearly turned the festival into a bonfire."
Ines shot him a glare, exhaustion giving way to irritation. "I had it under control."
Ian raised an eyebrow and gestured toward the now-charred stall. "Oh yes, I can see that. Flawless execution, truly."
"At least I tried to help," she shot back, crossing her arms. "What were you doing here anyway? Spying on me?"
Ian gave a small smile, tilting his head. "Believe me, Lady Ines, the last thing I intended tonight was to run into you. But fate has a twisted sense of humor, wouldn't you say?"
Elien groaned, rubbing his head. "What… what happened?"
"You nearly got roasted," Elias replied bluntly, though the relief in his tone was obvious. "Ines saved you. More or less."
"More or less?" Ian repeated, his amused smile widening. "You know, Ines, if you plan to use magic in public, you might want to work on your aim."
Ines clenched her fists, her face heating with frustration. "And if you plan to sneak around festivals, maybe mind your own business."
Ian held her gaze for a long moment, his stare intense enough to send a chill down her spine—but she didn't look away. Then, with a faint smile, he stepped back. "Well, this evening has been… enlightening. I suggest you get your brothers back to the palace before someone tries to play the hero for real. Good night, Lady Ines."
And without waiting for a reply, he turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving her standing there, mind spinning. She hated how easily he had taken control of the situation—and hated even more that, for a brief moment, she hadn't minded.
Elias cleared his throat, pulling her out of her thoughts. "So… are we going to talk about that?"
"No," Ines said sharply, pulling the cloak tighter around her shoulders. "We're going back to the palace. Now."
Elien, still a bit dazed, looked between his sister and the direction Ian had gone. "That guy was kinda cool," he said with a smirk.
Ines shot him an icy glare. "Not. A. Word."
As they made their way through the crowd, Ines couldn't shake the image of Ian's silver eyes—nor the way her magic had failed her just when she had needed it most. She clenched her fists, determined to understand it, to control it, before anyone else—especially Ian—could gain the upper hand over her.
_______________
The dream wrapped around him like silk—warm, dark, and slow-burning. The world was drenched in gold, blurred at the edges, silent except for the sound of breath and skin.
And she was there.
Ines.
Her silhouette glowed in the half-light, her body draped in a dress that clung to her like a second skin, revealing more than it concealed. Her eyes locked onto his with hunger, lips parted—not in invitation, but in challenge.
She didn't speak. She stepped toward him, every movement deliberate, sensual, controlled. Her fingers found the front of his shirt, slipping beneath the fabric with no hesitation. She didn't just touch—she claimed him. Skin to skin, her hands mapped the lines of his chest, dragging down slowly, teasing the edge of his waistband, lingering just to feel his breath hitch.
Ian's heart thundered. The control he was known for—the walls, the distance—it all collapsed under the weight of her.
"Ines," he breathed, voice raw.
She smiled, slow and wicked, then sank to her knees.
His back hit the wall behind him as his fingers tangled in her hair, the sound of his breath ragged in the silence. Her mouth was heat and silk and sin, exploring him with the same confidence she wielded her power. His name left her lips in a whisper that made his spine arch.
And when she rose again—sliding her body up along his, her curves gliding over his skin, lips trailing fire up his chest and throat—he thought he might lose his mind.
She turned in his arms and led him backward, never breaking eye contact, until the backs of her knees hit the bed. She sat, then pulled him down over her, lips catching his in a kiss that left no room for air or doubt. His hands slid up her thighs, under her dress, fingers pressing into soft flesh as her legs wrapped tightly around him, pulling him closer—closer than skin, closer than breath.
The dress was gone. Somehow. Maybe she burned it off with her will alone. She was under him—bare, radiant, hers—and he forgot every name but hers.
He kissed down her throat, over her chest, down her stomach, memorizing the sound of her moans, the way her body shivered under his touch. And when he entered her, it wasn't gentle—it was inevitable. A crashing wave. A surrender neither of them fought.
Their bodies moved as one—fast, slow, rough, aching—lips meeting between gasps, hands clutching at skin and hair and sheets, desperate for more. Her magic crackled in the air around them, responding to every thrust, every cry, every breath. The room felt like it might catch fire with them in it—and neither of them cared.
"Ines," he whispered against her ear, voice barely holding. "You're..."
She cut him off with a kiss that consumed him whole.
"I'm yours," she whispered. "But only if you burn for me."
He did.
And when he woke, heart pounding, body drenched in sweat, the echo of her name still lingered on his lips.