EMMA
I stared at the mirror, unmoving, as my handmaid moved around me with quiet efficiency.
Her fingers were gentle, brushing powder across my cheekbones, fixing my hair into soft curls, and adjusting the silver tiara that shimmered like betrayal atop my head.
"It's time," she said softly, stepping back.
But I couldn't answer her. I couldn't even nod.
I just stood.
Not because I was ready… but because I had no choice.
My feet moved before my heart could catch up. I rose from the chair, letting the heavy ceremonial gown fall around me like chains, not silk.
I walked out of the room slowly, each step dragging like I was heading toward my execution. The corridor was quiet, too quiet, the kind of silence that echoes everything you try to bury deep inside.
It was my coronation day.
I was becoming Luna.
But the ache in my chest told me this wasn't a victory. It was surrender.
