Lena's feet hovered above nothing. There was no floor, no walls—just stars, darkness, and the bone-deep chill of night. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a brief moment, she thought she might fall.
But she didn't.
The Night King stood beside her, calm and composed, as though gravity bowed to him.
"W-What is this?" she asked, voice unsteady but her eyes fierce.
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he extended his hand. "Dance with me."
Lena blinked. "Are you serious?"
"Do I look like I jest?" His tone was gentle, but laced with something far more commanding.
Against her better judgment, her hand slid into his. His fingers were cold, but sparks bloomed up her arm the moment they touched.
And then, music—soft, haunting, and beautiful—echoed through the nothingness.
They began to move. Slowly. Gracefully.
He led, she followed—until she stopped following. Until she started pressing back. Testing him. Teasing him.
"Is this your idea of seduction?" she whispered.
He twirled her, catching her waist as she spun back into his arms. "No. This is me reminding you… you don't know what danger feels like."
"Mm," she said, chest brushing his, "but it feels delicious."
His eyes darkened.
"You tempt shadows like a flame in the wind, Lena," he said, voice like a spell. "But flames can be consumed."
"And shadows," she purred, lips inches from his, "can't resist a little light."
He dipped her low, holding her effortlessly above the stars. Her heart raced. His mouth was close.
Then—
"Tell me," she said, breathless. "What are you really?"
He leaned closer, lips brushing the shell of her ear. "I am the curse your kind feared in old stories. The one mothers warned their daughters about."
"Lucky for you," she whispered back, "I never listened."
His hand slid to the small of her back. Heat flared where he touched. He didn't kiss her—but his presence overwhelmed her, consuming every breath, every thought.
Then—
*Snap.*
The stars vanished. She was back in her room, heartbeat wild, air thick with the scent of him.
He was gone.
But on the table lay a note, written in ink that shimmered like moonlight:
*"Flirt again, and I'll show you a darker magic."*
"He's fun"