Magic Within Slide

After hours spent trying to still the storm in his head, Lorenzo finally stepped out of the bathroom. Steam clung to the air like a veil, and droplets trickled down his skin. His hair, damp and tousled, stuck to his forehead. But it wasn’t the heat of the shower that left him breathless—it was everything he’d seen. Everything he couldn’t explain.

And then he froze.

By the window, the hairpin he had found earlier sat on the table. But it no longer looked ordinary. It glimmered, pulsing softly with a silvery light that danced like moonlight over water. Shadows on the walls shifted with its rhythm, like the heartbeat of something not quite alive.

A shiver traced his spine.

He stepped closer. The air around it felt... different. Dense. Humming.

Lorenzo hesitated, then reached out. The moment his fingers touched the metal, a searing light filled his vision.

A kingdom, vast and ancient, stretched across a sky painted with stars. Two figures stood beneath a crescent moon. One, a girl with hair like drifting snow. The other, cloaked in shadows, her eyes fierce with power. They argued. No sound reached him, but the storm of their emotions surged through his veins.

Then—

The pale-haired girl vanished in a swirl of silver mist.

The vision shifted.

A palace, draped in silence. A woman’s sobs echoed off stone. Servants stood frozen in grief. A crown lay discarded on marble steps.

Lorenzo gasped and dropped the pin. He staggered back, chest heaving. “What… was that ?”

He didn’t have long to wonder.

“That’s mine,” a voice said, calm and unmistakably close. “Give it back.”

He jumped at the sound, stumbling back as though the echo itself had struck him. His heart thundered in his chest, loud and wild. For a moment, he stood frozen—caught between dread and disbelief—until finally, with trembling breath, he turned to face the source.

She stood there.

The same ethereal figure from before—pale as moonlight, silent as snowfall. Her presence filled the room like a soft storm, calm and powerful all at once.

“You…” Lorenzo backed up a step. “How did you get in here?”

She stepped forward, slow and deliberate. “I can’t live without it,” she said quietly, her voice carrying a haunting sorrow. “It’s all I have left.”

“Don’t come any closer,” Lorenzo warned, grabbing the nearby stand like it might shield him from whatever magic surrounded her.

She halted immediately, hands raised slightly in a gesture of peace.

“I never meant to frighten you,” she said. “I came only for the hairpin. Please… it belongs to me.”

He held it tighter, the metal cool against his skin. “I’ll give it to you,” he said, “but only if you tell me who you are.”

Her violet eyes flickered, and silence fell like a curtain between them.

“I need to know,” he said again, more urgently. “I posted your photo. No one could see you—not even my best friend, Zyric. You asked why I can see you...Why can’t anyone else? Why me? I feel like I’m losing my mind. Please… I need the truth.”

He pressed his hands against his temples. “None of this makes sense. Not you, not the visions, not this world anymore.”

His voice cracked under the weight of his confusion, his fear.

She looked at him, and in that quiet moment, she understood. He deserved to know. After everything—after the visions, the silence, the impossible encounter—he had earned the truth.

Her eyes dropped, lashes casting shadows across her pale cheeks.

“Fine,” she whispered. “You deserve the truth.”

Lorenzo watched, heart thundering.

“I don’t belong to this world,” she said at last. “My name is Isolde Vales. I was the princess of Astrael, a realm that lives in the space between stars. In my kingdom, magic wasn’t hidden. It thrived. The sky shimmered with dragons. The sea whispered songs. The land breathed with power.”

A fragile smile flickered on her lips. “I loved it. Every corner of it. And I loved Alaika—my closest friend. My sister in all but blood.”

Her smile faded.

“But she… she changed. Or maybe I just never truly knew her. She was a witch. Strong. Secretive. And she loved someone who never looked her way.”

Lorenzo didn’t interrupt. He felt the air grow colder, as if her sorrow stretched into the room like frost.

“His name was Janeal,” she went on. “He was kind to me. Loyal. But I never returned his feelings. I told Alaika that. She didn’t care.”

Her hands curled into fists. “She thought if I vanished, he’d love her. So she cursed me. Banished me from Astrael. I became a ghost—adrift, caught between worlds. This realm is my prison.”

Her voice cracked. “And that hairpin… it’s all I have left. It was a gift from my grandmother. Enchanted. It lets me remember Astrael. Just glimpses. But even fragments are more than nothing.”

She lowered her eyes, arms wrapping around herself.

Lorenzo stepped forward. Slowly. Hesitantly.

He reached out and brushed a tear from her cheek.

Isolde flinched at first. Her breath hitched. But she didn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “For all of it.”

She said nothing. But something in her shoulders eased, just a little.

A silence settled between them—not awkward, but solemn. Shared.

Then—

The apartment’s doorbell rang.

Isolde startled. She stepped back like a deer hearing a hunter’s bow.

“Wait,” Lorenzo said quickly. “Please. Don’t disappear.”

Her gaze met his. For a moment, neither moved.