The door opened. Inside, the air smelled of honey and rust. The Jewel House was a single long corridor lined with alcoves, each containing a gem the size of a fist. Rubies, sapphires, emeralds—but wrong. They pulsed. They breathed. When Lira stepped close to the first one, a deep violet amethyst, she saw herself inside it.
She walked out into the cold fog of the lower city. Her hands were still scarred. Her hair still white. She had nothing but her name and her aching lungs. jewel house of lust
It was a whole life. A whole love story. A beautiful, fabricated hell. The door opened
In the gem, she was dancing with Kaelen at a masquerade ball. Her scars were gone. Her hair was long and dark. He was whispering something in her ear, and she was laughing—a laugh she had never laughed, light and free. The scene shifted: they were kissing in a rain of rose petals. Then tangled in white sheets. Then arguing in a garden, her voice sharp with love. Then him leaving, her crying, him coming back. Rubies, sapphires, emeralds—but wrong