Author's Note: It's been forever, but if you're still reading, thank you, and I hope you enjoy this chapter :) I'm trying to update IWESTS before Christmas, but if I don't, I hope everyone has a Merry Christmas!

Lydia glared at the door fiercely. She tried to direct all of her anger and frustration into her gaze, knowing that she would soon have to bury it deep down again and paste a smile on her face. She glared so hard that tears eventually sprung up in her eyes.

She sighed and wiped them away with the cuff of her sweatshirt. She had put the moment off all week. When her parents subtly suggested that she needed to be a better host to their foreign guests, she knew she had to do it. But she didn't hate herself any less as she raised her hand to knock on the door of the sitting room that served as the connection between Ben and Jia's guest rooms.

After a moment, Ben answered the door. She had always liked that about Ben. Like herself, he was the spare, and neither of them had ever been accustomed to letting servants do everything for them. It didn't feel necessary when their daily lives weren't and would never be taken up by governance of a country.

His face didn't melt into a smile of recognition, nor was there any inclination that he was any happier to see her than he would have been if anyone else waited at the door. Her heart ached. "Hello, B—" She swallowed the nickname down. "Prince Benedetto."

"Most people call me Ben," he offered. "Would you like to come in, Your Highness?"

She accepted and stepped into the sitting room. Though there were traces of her everywhere—a handbag on a chair, a book written in Mandarin on the coffee table—Jia was nowhere to be found. Lydia breathed a sigh of relief as she settled herself on a loveseat. Ben took a seat across from her.

"Is Princess Jia out?" she asked innocently, praying that he would confirm her suspicion.

"Yes, shopping with your aunt," Ben explained. "Princess Avery told her it was something she absolutely had to do on a trip to Illéa."

"I'm pretty sure Aunt Avery thinks that's a must on a trip anywhere," Lydia retorted. Once upon a time, he would have laughed disapprovingly at Lydia's playful deprecation of her family. Now, he only smiled politely.

She cleared her throat, forcing herself to forge on. "I'm sorry if I've been a terrible host," she began.

"Not at all," Ben assured her swiftly. "Jia and I knew that we were coming for a very exciting and busy time in Illéa."

"You did?"

"Of course," Ben nodded. "We were actually quite excited to hear about the Selection. It is such an interesting tradition you Illéans have and fun to witness, from what I've heard of people who were around for your father's Selection."

Lydia noticed his Italian accent was stronger than it had used to be. She wondered if it was because he'd stopped splitting his time between his home country and Illéa. "Yeah, it's been a blast," she intoned.

"It is a shame we will not be able to stay much longer," Ben replied.

"What?" Panic rose in Lydia's chest. "Why not?"

He laughed. "Well, you're not the only one with a wedding to plan."

"Jia has convinced me we can spare another couple of weeks," he continued, "And of course, Your Highness, we would be honored to have the future queen of Illéa attend our wedding in Italy when the time comes."

For years, Lydia and Naomi had dreamed of the wedding that she and Ben would have in Italy one day, in one of the historic cathedrals in Rome or on the Amalfi coast at sunset. Both, if they couldn't decide.

And now Naomi's dream was slipping away, and it was all Lydia's fault.

Lydia went into autopilot, her mouth only reciting the polite niceties that had been drilled into her since she was a child. "The honor would be mine."

But inside, her heart ached, and her mind was racing.

She somehow managed to invite Ben and Jia to the polo match the following day, which he accepted for the both of them. As she was leaving, her eyes settled on a picture of the couple.

They were sitting on a beach, probably in Italy, their arms wrapped around each other and Jia's head resting on his shoulder. She couldn't help but compare Jia to Naomi: tall where Naomi was petite, dark hair that hung straight over her shoulder in contrast to Naomi's light waves, milky skin so different from Naomi's olive complexion. And yet, they both still had the regal poise and quiet confidence of a future ruler.

Lydia's chest tightened. It should've been Naomi.

She turned back towards Ben abruptly. "Can I ask you something kind of personal?" she blurted out before she could help herself.

"Uh… yes," he answered cautiously. "We are friends, after all," he added, like he was trying to convince himself.

"How did you know Jia was the one?" Lydia asked.

Ben's brown eyes softened, and a smile turned up the corners of his mouth. It killed Lydia to see it happen, because for so long, she'd watched his face transform in such a way when he thought of or talked about Naomi. "Before I met Jia, I felt lost," Ben admitted. "Like I was looking for something, but I wasn't sure what."

It was like he had stabbed her and was twisting the knife.

Naomi. Naomi was what he had been looking for.

"I don't feel like that with Jia," he continued, "I feel grounded."

Lydia forced a smile. Jia might make him feel grounded, but Naomi was his home. As soon as Naomi woke up, everything would go back to the way it was before.

Her face must not have been as convincing as she thought it was, because Ben laughed and patted her on the shoulder. "Do not worry," he told her, "You will figure everything out with your Selection in your own time."

She forced a smile to her face and squeaked out a hurried goodbye. Then, she walked as quickly as she could away from the room without full out sprinting. She needed out, she needed air, she needed—

Evidently, she needed to watch where she was going, because she collided with another body as she turned the corner.

"Woah there! You okay?"

Gabriel caught her before she could fall, and she relaxed slightly at the feeling of his hands on her arms. "Sorry," she sighed. "I'm just… a mess."

"Nah," Gabe countered, "You just look a little shook up, is all." He tucked a lock of hair that had slipped from her messy bun behind her ear and lowered his grip from her arm to her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "There. All better."

The warmth of Gabe's smile ebbed at her sadness. Being near him reminded her of how she felt when she saw the sun starting to peek through the clouds after a long storm. It wasn't immediate relief, but it was always a start. "All better," she agreed, hoping she could will the feeling into existence. "So, what were you up to before I ran you over?"

"Exploring!" Gabe declared brightly, reminding Lydia of Skadi and how excited she had been to explore the castle. "We've been here for almost a month, and I figured I should try to figure this place out so I stop gettin' lost on my way back to my room after dinner."

Lydia laughed. "Why don't you just follow the other guys? You're all on the same floor."

"Where's the fun in that?" Gabe asked.

Gabe was one of those people who genuinely seemed to find joy even in the monotony of life. It was infectious, and Lydia found herself smiling, all of her previous worries about Ben pushed to the back of her mind. "Do you need a guide?" she asked hopefully.

"I thought you'd never ask," he beamed, offering an arm to her. She giggled and looped hers through it.

"How's your abuela?" Lydia asked, thinking of how Gabe said that he spoke to her every day on the phone.

"Oh, lord!" He let out a long laugh as he paused to pull something out of his pocket. He held it out to Lydia. It was a polaroid photo of a kind looking woman, her face wrinkled with age. A long, gray braid fell over her shoulder. Her hands were covered by dirty gloves that looked a size too big for her, and she held one out to draw attention to a bush of hydrangeas beside her.

"Is this her?" Lydia asked. "She's beautiful."

"She is a fool!" Gabe declared, though the affection in his voice was evident. "I been sending my checks home to her, told her to get herself something nice. I thought she'd get a dress, maybe some new house shoes. This wild woman bought a polaroid camera. Said she wants to show me what's going on at home. I told her, "Abuela, I've seen this every day for twenty-two years, let me escape it for a few weeks!""

It was so sweet it made Lydia's heart ache. "What did she say to that?"

Gabe chuckled. "She said, "Mijo, you can't escape what's a part of you." She can be a regular smartass."

She laughed hollowly before she could help herself. "She's not wrong."

Gabriel glanced at her, the look tentative like he didn't want to push her. "What are you so desperate to escape?"

"Everything, sometimes," Lydia admitted. Gabe was quiet, so Lydia took the opportunity to steer the conversation back to safer ground and added, "I'd love to meet her sometime. She seems like a wonderful abuela."

"She's the best," Gabe admitted as he tucked the picture back into her pocket. Lydia realized that he must've just started carrying the picture with him and melted once more. "And hey." He elbowed her playfully before he guided her arm back through his. "You keep me around long enough, and you will."

She had never thought about meeting the Elite's families, but she didn't feel any fear or nervousness when she thought about meeting Gabe's abuela. "Well, it's a good thing you're finally trying to figure this castle out," she noted, "I think you might be here a while, Mr. Alba."

He smiled, displaying those dimples that she had come to like so much. "Lucky me."

They arrived in the large foyer, as Lydia intended to show Gabe the most direct route from the formal dining room where they had most of their dinners to the Selected floor. Gabe whistled as he looked up at the high, vaulted ceilings. "This place is just so big."

Lydia chuckled as she looked up at the ceilings that she had hardly even given a second thought to. "I think you get used to it. Or maybe it's just the only thing I've ever known."

"You ever try sliding down those?" he asked, nodding at the banisters that lined each side of the grand staircase.

"I am a princess," she countered playfully, though she had done more than her fair share of bannister racing. "I would never."

"Oh, come on," laughed Gabe, "I know you and your siblings had to get into some trouble in here when you were little."

A memory popped into the forefront of her mind, and she couldn't suppress her laughter. "We set up a soccer net once," she recalled. "It was raining, but Cohen convinced us. I don't even know where we found the net, but it was enormous. Somehow, I got stuck playing goalie, and Na—"

She froze. That was the trouble with Gabriel Alba. He made her too comfortable. "Our nanny had a fit when she found us," she rambled in an attempt to save herself, "Not sure if it was because of the actual soccer though or because Cohen had gotten the ball stuck in the chandelier."

Her hope was that he would move on, reply with some story of his own about all of the trouble he used to get into at home. But he paused, and Lydia's pulse quickened. He took one of her hands. She thought she saw something more serious than usual in his warm, brown eyes, but she didn't linger on it, as she was trying with all her might to stop her palms from sweating with nervousness.

"Lyd, you know you can tell me anything, right?" he asked. The sincerity shone from him like a light bulb.

And she wished she could. But she knew the truth was that she couldn't. Because someone as genuine and good as Gabriel Alba couldn't possibly look at her the same way if he knew what she had done to her sister.

Her own parents hadn't been able to, after all.

"Of course," she lied with a bright smile she hoped he didn't realize was forced.

For a brief moment, she thought she saw a look of disappointment wash over his handsome features, and her stomach churned anxiously as she watched him. She felt the briefest prick of nausea before her power chased it away.

But then the look disappeared, and luckily, he dropped the subject. She decided it would be best to curtail their interaction, as much as she liked spending time with him. She quickly pointed out the dining room and then started on a shortcut that would lead him back to the Selected's floor while avoiding most people.

The rest of their time together was marred by uneasiness, and Lydia's chest clenched when she thought she recognized the disappointment in Gabe's eyes once again when they said goodbye. She had always fancied herself a good liar. She'd done enough of it over the past three years. But it was clear that, at least to some extent, Gabe could see through her. And how could he enjoy dating someone he knew was lying to him, even if he didn't know what it was about?

The momentary ease and happiness that she had felt when she first ran into Gabe had vanished, leaving even more stress than before. She nervously chewed on her thumbnail, a habit that she had been informed by almost everyone in her life was most unbecoming of a princess. Naomi had never chewed her nails, she reminded herself.

But then again, Naomi had never cursed her sister either, so nail biting was the least of Lydia's concerns when it came to falling short to Naomi.

Though her brain wasn't a conscious participant in the decision, she was only somewhat surprised when her feet led her to Castor's door. They were being housed in a separate wing from the Selected, and it was Lydia's first visit.

But it was time, she told herself.

Castor answered after one knock. His bright blue eyes glittered with happiness upon seeing Lydia, and she relaxed slightly under his cheerful gaze. "Come in," he offered.

His room was much smaller than the ones that Ben and Jia or even the Selected occupied and featured far less decoration. The wallpaper was old, a grey with a floral design that had clearly faded over time, and the wood floor was covered with a large rug that had once laid in Ezra's office. A large fireplace dominated the right wall while a neat four-poster bed was centered upon the left. The only other furniture in the room was a dark pine armoire, matching desk, and single armchair near the fireplace.

But despite the lack of grandeur, Castor seemed to have made himself at home. A deep red, velvet coverlet that didn't look like castle standard-issue decorated the bed. The desk was dominated by two small cauldrons, both lit by a blue fire that Lydia could tell wasn't entirely natural. A pile of books occupied the seat of the armchair, and Castor started to gather them to move them aside so that Lydia could sit.

"Oh, don't worry about it," she countered, leaning against the ledge of one of the two windows, both of which were flung all the way open.

Castor joined her, leaning against the other window. "What's up? You look…" He trailed off, like he didn't want to insult her but couldn't think of a word that would be both accurate and complimentary.

"I wanted to talk to you about why I brought you here," she admitted, staring down at her shoes.

"Ah, so you're finally going to let me in on all your secrets?" Castor asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I've been waiting for this moment."

His tone was light, but it only made Lydia's stomach sink further. "Castor… I hurt someone."

She didn't look at his face, but she could tell that his smile had faded. "With magic, I take it?"

She nodded.

"And not your magic?"

She nodded again. A cloying, bitter taste filled her mouth. She tried to take a deep breath.

"I don't have much longer to fix it," she continued, "but I have to. Because…"

How did she explain it? How did she explain that she had cursed her sister, and the fairies had made the world forget her entirely while they tried to undo it?

They were words she couldn't conjure. Instead, she held a shaking hand out to Castor. He studied her for a moment before he gave her an encouraging smile, like he knew she needed it, and took her hand. Lydia placed her other cold, sweaty palm on top, sandwiching his hands between hers.

She closed her eyes and focused on Castor. She could feel his amnesia. It was amorphous, like a thick cloud had enveloped him. It begged to be taken away, like his body wanted her power to free him without even knowing that something was wrong.

It took several moments of concentration as her healing power assessed the spell he had been placed under. Then, finally, her hands began to glow with the familiar warm, golden light.

She had already felt somewhat tired from the emotional toll of her day. But healing was always a different kind of exhaustion. Her power was most potent when her emotions were running high, and she had occasionally been susceptible to accidental healing, which was the reason she'd put physical distance between herself and her family since Naomi's accident.

But purposely healing someone was much harder for her. As she focused on Castor and ridding him of the fairies' spell, she could feel the energy being drained from her body. Though her eyes were closed, the blackness began to spin. She leaned into Castor's side as she struggled to stay on her feet.

And then—he gasped, and Lydia couldn't feel the cloud anymore. She released the reins she had placed on her power, and she slowly started to feel less faint as it raced away from her hands, to whatever places in her body it hid when she wasn't using it.

Still, she must have looked weak, because Castor put a hand on her back to steady her, and she was appreciative of it. He turned to face her.

"Naomi."

Lydia nodded. A flood of emotion – a mixture of fear and relief, perhaps – rushed through her. It was the first time she had heard someone other than the fairies talk about her sister in three years.

Even without the fairies' blanket of amnesia clouding his head, Castor looked confused. Lydia's healing had reminded him that Naomi existed, but her current absence was still a mystery. "What…?"

"A sleeping curse," she explained. "Hazel came up with the spell to make everyone forget so we could figure everything out without scaring people or causing any problems between humans and fairies. But we didn't think it would take this long or be this hard. And now, she's not doing well at all. I don't know how much time we have left."

"Do you know who?" Castor asked, his face pensive. "If Hazel can't break it, I don't know that I or even Uriel and I together will be much help, which I assume is why you've really called us here."

She nervously chewed at her lower lip. She had gone this far, hadn't she? Trusted Castor with this much? She couldn't back down now, or it would've all been for nothing.

"Agnimitra."

Castor's eyes widened, and he slowly blew out a breath neither of them had realized he'd been holding in. "You went looking for her."

Lydia shook her head. "Her castle," she corrected him. "I didn't think…"

She had grown up enamored by every magical story the fairies had ever told her. She loved the fae world – the customs, the history, the pure fairytale enchantment. But the problem was, she had believed them wholeheartedly. She had never considered that she may not have been told the truth.

She never wanted to find Agnimitra, of course. Agnimitra was the villain of her childhood, the monster in the closet. She trusted the tales: Agnimitra, in her greed and wicked desire for revenge, had expended all of her magical energy. She was gone.

But her castle, that was another story. And there was something attractive to Lydia about finding the evil lair, particularly now that the villain was gone. It was, of course, compounded by the fact that Lydia had always believed other stories as well: the ones that said the Schreaves were cursed.

"I don't know what I was thinking," Lydia sighed, her gaze focused down at her feet. It was true. She could no longer understand the Lydia of three years ago, who thought that anything good could come of exploring an evil fairy's castle. She resented her past self's inability to just let the curse go, no matter who told her to—and nearly everyone had, from Hazel to her father to even Naomi herself.

Castor put a hand on Lydia's shoulder. "What happened?" he asked gently.

Naomi knew they had made a mistake as soon as Lydia gasped, "This is it!" She hadn't expected Agnimitra's castle to be warm and welcoming. But she hadn't anticipated the tangible feeling of danger that engulfed her as soon as she stepped into the shadow of the looming castle.

"How do we get in?" Lydia wondered aloud as she stalked the stone wall that surrounded the castle's perimeter.

"In?" echoed Naomi, disapproval evident in her tone. "I thought you just wanted to find it."

Lydia's brows knit together as she glanced back at her sister. "Well, what's the point of finding it and not doing any investigating?" she countered. "What if we find something about the curse?"

Naomi tried to swallow her groan. "Lyd, for the millionth time, we would know if we were cursed."

"Well, what if we're not all cursed?" she challenged. "What if it's just certain Schreaves? Don't we owe it to them to find out?"

In Naomi's opinion, Lydia's curse was being the middle child, particularly in a royal family. Naomi was the heir, Cohen the only boy. She had often suspected her younger sister had felt adrift in the family, which had caused her to foster such a close relationship with Hazel. For as long as Naomi could remember, Lydia had always been Hazel's favorite Schreave.

But the downside was that Lydia obsessed over magic. She had always been the most adventurous—which was impressive considering Cohen was a tween boy—and Agnimitra was the biggest source of adventure. To an extent, Naomi understood her sister's fixation.

Truthfully, Naomi had never thought that anything would come of Lydia's preoccupation. When Lydia had barged into her room, convinced that she had pinpointed the location of Agnimitra's castle, Naomi had mostly tagged along because her sister didn't have her driver's license yet, and Naomi knew Lydia wouldn't let something like that get in the way of her grand discovery.

Naomi sighed and leaned against the wall as she watched Lydia disappear beyond a corner. She hoped that she would get lucky and there simply wouldn't be a way in. Even though she had faded decades ago, Naomi didn't think Agnimitra was the type to leave her home accessible to anyone.

As she waited for Lydia to return, an eerie chill began to trickle down Naomi's spine. She frowned, glancing up to see if maybe a stray branch had dripped on her. But all she saw was the night sky, darker than it had been only minutes ago, and starless. She leaned away from the rock wall. "It was just the rocks," she reasoned to herself, "It's cold out."

But the more she glanced around, the less her words comforted her.

It was spring. The tips of the trees should have been flush with a fresh and vibrant canopy of foliage. The bushes should have been blossoming, the ground fuzzy with a blanket of grass. She held her breath as her ears searched for any indication of birds or the rustle of a breeze or even bugs.

There was nothing but silence.

She noticed a rose bush near the corner that Lydia had turned. She took a step towards it. The leaves crunched underfoot, crisp and dry as though it was the dead of winter. She reached towards one of the roses. The petals crumbled at her touch, fluttering to the floor and joining the decaying leaves.

Everything was dead, she realized. A wave of nausea swept over her, so strong that Naomi had to swallow a few times to be sure she wasn't about to vomit. She felt like she had stumbled upon a dark secret, something guarded and dangerous that she wasn't supposed to know.

"Lydia?" There was no answer.

"Lydia!" Panic rose in her chest as she jogged around the corner of the wall.

There was no sight of her sister. She broke into a run.

"Lydia!" she screamed. Every nerve in her body was electrified with fear. "Lyd—!"

She stopped, breathless, when she found her sister inspecting an iron gate. "Look what I found!" Lydia chirped, cheerful as ever.

Naomi's fear turned to irritation as she joined her sister. "Didn't you hear me call for you?" she demanded.

Lydia's brow furrowed. "No."

Naomi didn't believe her. The forest was so eerily silent that she could've heard a pin drop even without the blanket of crunchy, dead leaves. But instead, she simply rolled her eyes and asked, "Can we go now?"

"What? No!" Lydia insisted. "Look, there's a gate!"

"Gates and walls generally are to keep people out, Lydia," Naomi argued. "Come on, please. Everything is telling us we shouldn't be here. Can't you feel it?"

The younger girl looked confused. "What are you talking about?"

As Naomi studied her sister, she realized that it wasn't just Lydia's usual obliviousness. There was no way she could just be ignoring the cloying, suffocating discomfort that Naomi was fighting.

Then, it hit her.

"Your power."

"What are you talking about?" replied Lydia. For a brief moment, her excitement waned, and a flicker of concern crossed her face as she stared back at Naomi.

"It's healing you," Naomi realized.

"But… I'm not hurt," Lydia pointed out.

No, she wasn't physically hurt, Naomi supposed. But there was something that was affecting Naomi that Lydia couldn't feel.

Goosebumps broke out on Naomi's arms, and she stepped closer to her sister. She lowered her voice. "Lydia, I think there's magic here," she whispered, her heart pounding in her chest as she prayed that Lydia was the only one who heard her.

Shockingly, even this didn't seem to concern Lydia. "Well, it would make sense," Lydia shrugged. "Hazel said—"

Though the dead tree limbs didn't move, a gust of cold air rushed by, chilling Naomi to the bone. Lydia still looked unbothered as she continued, "—that there could be residuals, like if a fairy did enough magic in one place."

Agnimitra had certainly done a lot of magic at her castle—evil magic. "Okay, we need to go," Naomi decided. She grabbed Lydia's wrist. Lydia frowned, and Naomi was prepared to head off any argument her sister presented. But instead, Lydia reached out.

"You're bleeding," Lydia said.

Though a little voice in the back of her head encouraged her to run, she froze in shock. Before she could ask Lydia what she was talking about, she felt the drip. A drop of blood hit her lip. She touched her finger to it. When she looked down at her hand, two more drops raced out of her nose and disappeared into the dirt.

Lydia closed her eyes, and as quick as it had started, Naomi's nose stopped bleeding. She basked in the warmth of Lydia's healing power, exhaling and releasing the tight set of her shoulders for what felt like the first time in hours. Things weren't so bad. Maybe she had been overreacting. "Thanks," she smiled at Lydia when her sister took her hand away.

Lydia started to smile back, but her face soon contorted into shock.

The ground shook violently.

Lydia and Naomi grabbed each other's hands. It did little to steady either of them.

Then, there was the dangerous whisper of a silky voice. "Schreave."

And it was the last thing Naomi remembered before everything went black.