The 24 Brides Of Valerian

“They don’t even see me. It’s like I’m invisible until they need someone to laugh at.”

I gripped my locker door so tightly my knuckles went white. My voice barely made it out, just a whisper I hoped no one could hear. I pressed my forehead against the cold metal, hiding my burning eyes. The hallway was slowly emptying as lunch break ended, but their laughter still echoed in my ears, sharp, mocking, like tiny daggers sinking into skin.

Jessica stood a few steps behind me. Silent, but I could feel her frustration like heat on my back. Her curly brown hair was tied into its usual messy bun, and I knew from the way she stood that she was already angry on my behalf.

“You have to report them this time, El,” she said. “They put ketchup in your backpack. Again. That’s not a prank. That’s harassment.”

I let out a long breath and lifted my head slowly. My reflection in the locker was blurry, but still familiar: pale face, long ash-blonde hair, oversized hoodie hiding everything I wished I could disappear with, and those eyes gray, too wide, too tired.

“Nothing ever changes, Jess,” I murmured. “Every time I tell someone, they say ‘they didn’t mean it’ or that I’m ‘too sensitive.’ You know what happens when you snitch in this school.”

Jessica stepped closer, her voice sharpening. “And what happens when you stay silent? They think it’s okay to keep doing it. Don’t you want it to stop?”

“Of course I do,” I snapped, then softened immediately. “I just…” I wrapped my arms around myself like a shield. “I don’t want to be that girl. The tattletale. The loser.”

Jessica opened her mouth, then closed it again. We’d had this conversation too many times already.

The bell rang overhead, cutting through the tension and dragging us back into reality.

“Come on,” she said finally. “We’ll be late for chem.”

The rest of the day felt like syrup being poured over cold toast, slow, sticky, unbearable. I could feel their eyes on me in almost every class. Then, in fifth period, Courtney flicked a folded note onto my desk.

I hesitated before opening it.

Wanna come to our Halloween party tomorrow? Sleepover. No nerds allowed except you, of course. Location drop later.

A small wobbly heart was drawn underneath.

I could practically hear Courtney’s voice as I read it.

I glanced up.

Courtney was watching me with Madison and Lila at her side. They were all smiling but not the kind that reached the eyes. More like crocodiles waiting for something to fall into the water.

Still… something inside me shifted.

They had never invited me anywhere before. Ever.

I folded the note carefully and slipped it into my pocket like it mattered. Maybe it was a joke. Maybe it wasn’t. But for the first time, I let myself think maybe I was finally being seen.

That evening, my room glowed in soft yellow light from my bedside lamp. Everything in it was mismatched secondhand furniture, thrifted posters, and stacks of books everywhere like walls I had built myself.

Jessica was lying on my bed, flipping through my sketchbook.

“They invited you?” she asked again for the third time.

“Yeah,” I said, spinning slowly in my chair. I tried to sound casual, but my heart wouldn’t stop fluttering. “Courtney said they’ll send the address tomorrow night.”

Jessica sat up sharply. “Tomorrow? As in that Friday the 13th Halloween party they’ve been planning forever?”

I shrugged, even though I couldn’t hide my smile. “Yeah. Crazy, right?”

“More suspicious,” she said immediately. She closed my sketchbook carefully, like it might break. “They’ve been horrible to you for years, El. Why now? Why invite you?”

“Maybe…” I hesitated. “Maybe they’re finally seeing me.”

Even as I said it, I knew how fragile it sounded.

Jessica leaned forward. “Or maybe they’re setting you up. You’re smart, El. Don’t let them play you.”

My smile faded.

“Why can’t you just be happy for me?” I asked quietly. “This might be my chance to belong. To matter.”

“Because I know them,” she said firmly. “And I know you. You don’t need their fake acceptance to prove your worth.”

I turned away from her. My voice came out softer than I wanted it to. “Easy for you to say. People actually like you.”

Jessica blinked. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?”

Silence filled the room, heavy and uncomfortable. Outside, the wind brushed against the window, dragging dead leaves across the glass like quiet scratching.

Jessica stood up. “I just don’t want you to get hurt again.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I muttered, though my throat tightened.

She hesitated like she wanted to say more, then quietly left.

That night, I couldn’t sleep.

I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, trapped between excitement and dread. Jessica was probably right. I knew that. But still… what if she wasn’t? What if this was something new? Something different? A life where I wasn’t just background noise in everyone else’s story?

I reached into my drawer and pulled out the note again. In the dark, the ink almost shimmered. My fingers brushed over the little drawn heart.

“Please,” I whispered into the silence. “Let this be real.”

Somewhere outside, something rustled.

A branch maybe.

Or the wind.

Or something else I didn’t have the courage to name.

But I didn’t move.

Because I was already lost tomorrow.

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

Far beyond my room, beyond everything I knew, beyond what I could ever imagine, there was another world.

A world hidden behind ancient gates, sealed by blood rites and forgotten treaties.

A castle stood there Crimson Court, its towers piercing the night like ivory blades. Lantern light flickered through stained glass windows. Inside, tapestries whispered stories of war, betrayal, and crowns won and lost.

A dark figure stood alone in a long, empty hall. Above him, the ceiling showed a sky of stars that weren’t stars at all.

“Twenty-four,” he murmured, holding a sealed scroll. His voice was low, old, and dangerous. “Let’s see if fate dares to play her hand again.”

A drop of blood fell onto an ancient map.

The choice was made.

And somewhere far away, in a quiet town full of forgotten names, mine

began to burn across the parchment in red ink.

Eloise Morgan.

And just like that…

I would never be invisible again.