The Oracle's Summons

**POV: Rosalie**

I run my trembling fingers down the smooth, crimson fabric of the custom gown. The cool red satin clings to my frame like a second skin, accentuating curves I usually hide beneath the oversized, mundane sweaters of my school uniform. I stand at five foot four, curvy with a full chest, and this dress was tailored to fit my exact measurements. It is a stunning piece of craftsmanship, boasting off-the-shoulder long sleeves that highlight my collarbones. A daring slit runs up the side, seductively showing off my leg with every slight movement. I am grateful my mother took me to the salon to get waxed for my birthday yesterday, though I never imagined I would display the results at a supernatural mating ritual.

The gown fits me perfectly, like a glove forged from liquid fire. Despite the dread pooling in my stomach, I have to admit I feel beautiful. But looking in the full-length mirror, that beauty feels like a trap. I have my brown curly hair pinned back in a low formal bun, keeping the wild strands out of my face. My wide hazel eyes—speckled with blue and green that my mother always says sparkle in the sun—stare back at me. Tonight, they do not sparkle. They are wide with raw fear. The reflection does not look like eighteen-year-old Rosalie. It looks like a beautifully wrapped sacrifice.

Thousands of years ago, the world we know as Earth was an unparalleled, prosperous land brimming with raw, untamed magic. It was an ancient, unexplainable force that nurtured life and fueled advancement. A myriad of supernatural species inhabited the realm, drawing upon the natural energy to become superior beings with heightened senses and extraordinary abilities. They lived in harmony with the earth.

But humanity evolved into a jealous, greedy breed. Driven by a hunger for power and information they could not comprehend, humans decided they needed to be the superior race. They slowly poisoned the minds of the masses, instilling the terrifying idea that supernatural creatures were dangerous predators. They propagated the belief that these peaceful beings needed to be leashed, controlled, and enslaved. People fear what they cannot control. Eventually, a massive conflict erupted. The Great War broke out, claiming countless innocent lives. Then, on one fateful day, all the supernatural creatures and their mates vanished from the realm. The magic, the prosperity, and the peace disappeared with them, leaving behind nothing but fading memories.

Over the centuries, humanity found a way to survive. We continued to grow, fueled by curiosity and a relentless determination for advancement. We substituted magic with innovation, eventually building our own sprawling, technologically advanced utopia by the twenty-second century. The ancient monsters of folklore were relegated to mere fairytales and bedtime stories. We constructed a comfortable illusion of supremacy, turning the mystical beings who once shared our world into romanticized fiction.

That comfortable illusion shattered two hundred years ago.

The creatures of our dreams and nightmares returned with a vengeance. On the catastrophic event forever mourned as Reapers Day, the Great Second War erupted. It ended before mankind could even mount a defense. We tiny humans never saw it coming, and we never stood a chance. The supernatural factions poured out of the shadows, brutally wiping out two-thirds of the global human population in a single day.

When their return reintroduced magic into the world’s atmosphere, a massive shockwave decimated the planet. Millions of humans vaporized into the ether, their essence erased from existence. It even affected the supernatural realm, causing many to perish and driving entire species to extinction. No one knows why certain humans survived while others vanished into dust. Some theorize that those who lived were considered worthy of magic, genetically compatible with the supernatural races. I do not consider myself lucky to be living under the heel of monsters, but my ancestors obviously possessed whatever mysterious trait allowed them to endure the purge. Only the strong remained.

The strongest of these supernatural factions conquered the remnants of humanity. The legendary Dragons. Although they are a rare breed, these beasts are the largest, strongest, and most extraordinary creatures to emerge from the hidden realm. Their deep connection to the earth brought magic fully back into the world, boosting the supernatural forces into an unstoppable empire. They took control, enforcing an iron-fisted, unbreakable rule over all surviving cities.

We now live in a patriarchal society governed by monsters who rule as monarchs. They enforce an outdated, regressive status system that combines a complex clash of cultures and traditions. I live in Vesper Haven, the gleaming capital of New Valeska, a territory the old history books once called Los Angeles, California.

As an ordinary human girl, I have lived a uniquely privileged and sheltered life here, largely shielded from the harsh realities of the supernatural regime. I am my parents' miracle baby. My father is a prominent member of the City Council, navigating the dangerous political waters of our new world. My mother is a rare human doctor, respected in her field. Their combined status afforded me the luxury of a peaceful existence. I am finishing my senior year at the prestigious Sovereign Academy for Young Ladies alongside my loyal best friend, Lyra.

Lyra is a werewolf. The modern world is teeming with them, alongside vampires, witches, mermaids, centaurs, pixies, and the fae. They live among us, and they rule over us.

Until yesterday, I thought my mundane life would continue undisturbed. Yesterday was my eighteenth birthday. I am officially of age. And tonight marks the dreaded EverMate Ball.

The Ball is an opulent, massive global event held twice a year where supernatural creatures gather to find their fated mates. It is a mandatory rite of passage for their young elites. Plural mates are a common occurrence in their culture. While humans can technically be fated, it is incredibly rare. Yet, the mysterious and immensely powerful Oracle occasionally summons random human girls to attend as potential mates. Those who are fortunate enough to return unchosen always have their memories wiped clean. They come back with blank stares, unable to speak a word of what happens behind those gilded doors, leaving behind endless, terrifying rumors and horror stories. The supernatural elites refuse to let their secrets spill into the human domain.

Because I had only just turned eighteen yesterday, I firmly believed I was safe from the draft. The Oracle only selects girls who have come of age. I spent my birthday celebrating with my parents and Lyra, relieved I dodged the terrifying possibility of being mated to a superior creature. I have always been scared of the supernaturals. The mere thought of being bound to a monster freaks me out.

Then, last night happened.

A heavy knock echoed through our townhouse. A delivery courier stood on our front porch, bearing a sleek box containing this custom-fitted red satin gown and a non-negotiable summons from the Oracle herself.

Panic consumed my household the second the wax seal broke. My mother dropped a glass in the kitchen, her eyes betraying sheer terror as she tried to put on a brave face. My father went stoic. I lay awake in my bed, listening to the muffled sounds of his frantic pacing downstairs. I could hear the desperate tenor of his voice as he argued with his colleagues on the City Council, trying to find a loophole. He demanded to know why his daughter suddenly received a letter at the eleventh hour. He desperately tried to get my name removed from the draft list. When that failed, he drove through the night to appeal directly to Lord Vander, begging the Chancellor to rescind the invitation. I remember hearing the heavy thud of the front door when he returned in the early hours of the morning, defeated.

This Ball is not a joke. The Oracle’s word is ultimate law. Her decrees supersede even the Council. The invitation stood, immutable and unyielding. To make matters worse, Lord Vander and his wife, Lady Evelina, received strict orders to escort me personally.

I tear my gaze away from the mirror and force myself to breathe. *I will be fine,* I tell my reflection, trying to steady my racing pulse. *Lyra is attending the ball tonight. She will be there. She will protect me.* I desperately cling to the hope that I will simply stand in a corner, avoid the predatory gazes of the beasts, and wake up safe in my own warm bed tomorrow morning. I will get up tomorrow and go to school like nothing ever happened.

*Ding. Ding. Ding.*

The heavy doorbell chimes three times, reverberating through the walls of our quaint four-bedroom townhouse. My escort has arrived.

My heart plummets straight into my stomach. My mouth goes dry. Note the heavy sarcasm in my mind: *Oh goodie!* I grab the simple diamond stud earrings my mother gifted me and push them into my earlobes with shaking fingers. There is no running away from this. If you refuse the Oracle’s summons, they send a small army to drag you out of your home.

I force my stiff legs to move. My bedroom door clicks shut behind me, the sound echoing ominously in the quiet hallway. I walk past the family portraits lining the walls—pictures of a normal, happy life that feels entirely out of reach tonight. I force my legs to carry me toward the grand staircase. The soft click of my heels against the polished hardwood sounds like the ticking of a countdown clock. With every step, the grim reality of the night crashes down on me heavier and heavier. This is not a drill. I am walking into a den of literal monsters. The ball is a massive deal, serving as a venue for the remaining supernatural races to conduct business and forge treaties. Rumor has it the Kings themselves will even make an appearance.

As I reach the top of the stairs and look down into the foyer, my breath hitches in my throat.

My parents stand near the front door. My father looks exhausted, the stoic mask he wears for the public cracking at the edges. His somber face highlights the agonizing night he just endured. My mother wrings her hands together, radiating devastated anxiety. Standing opposite them are Lord Vander and Lady Evelina. Lord Vander wears a pristine black tuxedo that shines under the warm light of our crystal chandelier. Lady Evelina stands beside him, wearing a stunning black sequined ball gown fitted tightly to her bodice before flaring out at the thighs, accented by a large black bow resting on her lower back.

But the politicians and my terrified parents are not the true source of my horror.

Looming behind them by the front doors are four towering, heavily armed demon guards.

My mind struggles to process their terrifying size. They easily stand seven feet or more, their massive, muscular frames threatening to burst through their crisp, all-black suits. They look like professional henchmen pulled straight out of an old mafia movie, complete with tactical earpieces. All they are missing are the colorful tracksuits. But there is nothing human about them.

Their eyes glow with a menacing, unnatural purple light, tracking every shadow in the foyer. Their hands are clasped formally in front of them, but I clearly see the razor-sharp talons extending from their fingertips, looking sharp enough to slice through solid bone with zero effort. They exude a suffocating aura of raw, lethal power that makes the air in the foyer feel thick and hard to breathe.

A wave of sheer disbelief washes over me as I take in the terrifying assembly. A weak, nervous laugh bubbles up in my throat, threatening to spill past my lips. I bite the inside of my cheek to suppress it, trying to rationalize the absurdity of the situation in my mind.

I look at the towering demons, the high-ranking politicians, the extravagant gown clinging to my frame. There is no logical reason for a puny, insignificant human girl like me to be forced to attend a supernatural mate ball tonight. I am average. I am normal. I belong in a classroom studying history, not standing in a grand ballroom filled with bloodthirsty predators.

I try to soothe the terror clawing at my chest. The Oracle probably just needed to meet a quota. They need a few human girls to stand around and look pretty for the sake of their ancient traditions. That has to be it. I internally question the terrifying alternative, desperately trying to convince my racing heart.

There is no way I am actually mated to a terrifying supernatural creature. That kind of nightmare only happens in the stories.

Right?

I grip the wooden banister, feeling the smooth grain beneath my sweaty palm. I take a deep breath, push my shoulders back, and force myself to take the first steps down the grand staircase.