Valentine.

Vice.

I'm back friends! Thank you for all your kind messages and support. W/O further adieu, please enjoy with the music, as always! :)

Hours later, I sit on the edge of my enormous bed, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My mind keeps constantly replaying my vision from earlier as I struggle to process the strange feelings of nostalgia enveloping me.

When hades had asked me about my episode, I lied to him. I can't explain why, but my lips decided against divulging any details. Especially considering the hushing gesture the figure behind those frosted eyes had extended to me.

Something was wrong here. Very wrong.

I push myself from the plush mattress and wander up to the mirror for a closer look. I am too disturbed by all the events of the past few weeks, when a very palpable thought impedes on my reeling. In the vision, the man had been holding a rose... but not just any rose. It was a rose from...the garden, complete with its distinct petals and thorns that adorned a stem sharp enough to draw blood. What if it meant something?

I needed to go back, and I needed to go back now. If this is any indication that my dreams had any meaning, someone was trying to tell me something, and I'm not going to idle by and leave my fate into the hands of a man who could very well be a stranger for all the "warmth" he'd shown me since my "accident". An accident I remembered nothing about.

Maybe I was supposed to look for some sort of clue in the garden, something that could lead me closer to discovering what really happened to me. But what?

That part could come later. For now, I needed to find a way out, and since I was under quarantine, this wasn't going to be easy.

A plan formulates in my mind. It isn't the prettiest, but considering hades' orders, my options are quite trim, so it was going to have to do. It also involved Violetta, which is going to be the more difficult part: convincing her to let me out. She was an incredibly compassionate soul, but I could tell she was equally fearful and cautious of her lord and his wrath. Understandably so.This isn't going to be easy, but I've exhausted all desire to keep pretending. What is he hiding from me?

After going through my usual morning routine, I waste no time executing. Once I am escorted back from breakfast, I rush into my bath chamber and reach into the front of my dress. I draw out the bundled napkins and empty its contents out onto the quartz vanity.

Three pomegranate slices, stolen from the kitchens, roll out onto the counter. I go straight to work.

Pomegranate Seeds.

See, I had picked up on this strangely distinct detail in one of my many strange dreams."You chose to serve fucking pomegranates? I will not allow you to make a mockery of the bride, do you understand me? Don't you know she is allergic? Are you trying to kill her? I will have your head for this! Sergio, get him out of my sight!" booms an angry voice belonging to a broad-shouldered man with hair dusted in snow. Not just any man, the voice, dripping in ice and venom, is familiar. His back is to me however, so I can't make out his face. Thunder cracks in the distance as I pretend not to notice the conversation, combatting my own share of prenuptial nerves.

I recall the dream in a furrowed trance, a lot of the details raising even more questions now in light of my episode. What if my dreams were really slices of my memory? What if they were the key to discovering who I truly am? I'd been writing them off as mere reveries this whole time but maybe they were something more. Especially considering the noticeable lack of the fruit's presence throughout our meals, despite its abundance in the kingdom.