Today was supposed to be a big day.
Isaac, her eldest brother, was graduating from the Royal Academy and moving on to the Heirs' Academy—a place where noble heirs trained in politics, warfare, and other ways to be insufferably powerful.
Which meant one thing.
A ridiculously extravagant noble gathering.
Annabelle, however, was not in the ballroom yet.
She was trapped in the nursery, stuffed into a frilly yellow dress that looked like it had personally offended her ancestors.
She hated it. The ribbons. The lace. The way it restricted movement, making escape impossible.
But escape was exactly what she was plotting.
Unfortunately, Nicholas had other plans.
"Anna-baby, do you wanna see something cool?"
Annabelle glanced at her second brother, already knowing that this was a trap.
Nicholas grinned like a lunatic, his fingers already crackling with magic.
Annabelle's stomach dropped.
"Nicholas, no."
"Nicholas, yes."
Before she could even try to stop him—
BOOM.
A storm of elemental insanity exploded through the nursery.
Fireballs shot across the room. A miniature star flickered into existence near the ceiling. A swirling tornado of water nearly drowned her favorite plush bunny.
Annabelle just sat there, blinking.
What. The. Hell.
Before she could process the fact that her own flesh and blood had just summoned a pocket universe inside the nursery, a chilling voice filled the air.
"Nicholas Dorne."
Nicholas froze.
There, standing at the door, was Paula Dorne—their mother.
She was smiling.
Which was never a good sign.
Nicholas immediately dropped the spell, but it was too late.
Annabelle sighed, watching her brother's soul prepare to exit his body.
Served him right.
---
THE BALLROOM DISASTER
By the time the celebration officially began, Annabelle had accepted her fate.
She was going to be paraded around like a prized artifact, and there was nothing she could do about it.
The moment Jake Dorne—her father—carried her into the ballroom, the noble swarm began.
"Oh, heavens, look at her!"
"She's adorable!"
"Her hair is just like her mother's! What a lovely shade of pink!"
Annabelle prayed for the floor to swallow her.
Her father, looking disgustingly proud, smirked as nobles gushed over her like she was some kind of royal treasure.
Meanwhile, Isaac—who was trying to have serious political discussions—kept getting interrupted.
By what?
Grown adults cooing at Annabelle.
Annabelle, a fully grown adult in her past life, wanted to die.
Across the room, Nicholas—still grounded from magic for the whole "nearly destroying the nursery" incident—was sulking in a corner, arms crossed, muttering curses under his breath.
And then it happened.
Some overenthusiastic noblewoman—a lady of high standing but very low survival instincts—reached out to pinch her cheeks.
Annabelle narrowed her eyes.
Oh, hell no.
A single thought passed through her mind.
Gravity Manipulation.
Across the room, Isaac—who had been watching closely—smirked.
The noblewoman suddenly froze in place, as if she'd forgotten how to move.
Annabelle grinned.
Maybe being a Dorne wasn't so bad after all.
But one thing was clear—
She was going to need every ounce of power she could get before this story reached its tragic ending.