Masquerade Hypnosis -before I Knew It- I-m Preg... -

I just didn’t know to whom.

I tore off the mask. My pupils were blown wide, and in the irises—just for a flicker—I saw the shape of a spiral, turning slowly.

The whisper came again, closer this time, warm breath against my ear even though no one stood behind me. Masquerade Hypnosis -Before I knew it- I-m Preg...

But my hand—the one not pressed to my belly—was smudged with dried ink. Indigo. The same color as the constellations on my gown.

The masquerade had a theme this year: Hypnos’s Gala . Every invitation bore the image of a poppy-wreathed figure with fingers pressed to smiling lips. Everyone joked about it. “Don’t drink the punch unless you want to wake up married.” “Careful, the DJ is actually a neurologist.” Just party chatter. Rich people’s Halloween with better tailoring. I just didn’t know to whom

Before I could scream, the spiral in my eyes turned once more. My knees went soft. My fear dissolved like sugar in warm milk. The woman in the mirror finally smiled with my face—not delayed, not dreamy, but truly mine.

The last thing I remember before the door opened was the whisper’s final gift: a single memory surfacing from the trance. Myself, kneeling on a floor of rose petals and pocket watches, lifting a silver chalice to my lips, and whispering, “I consent. I consent. I consent.” The whisper came again, closer this time, warm

The silk was deep midnight blue, embroidered with constellations that seemed to shift when I blinked. My mask was a delicate thing of silver lace and tiny, faceted obsidians that caught the candlelight of the masquerade hall behind me. I didn’t recall putting it on, either. In fact, the last clear memory I had was standing in the coat-check line, holding a champagne flute I hadn’t been old enough to drink from.

“Don’t panic,” I told my reflection. The woman in the mirror smiled back a beat too late. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, dreamy, utterly at peace. That wasn’t me. I don’t smile.