"The show must go on—even if the world beneath your feet feels like it’s crumbling."
Notty whispered the words to herself as she stood in the center of her studio, hands gripping the edge of her worktable like it was the only thing keeping her upright. The scent of lavender oil lingered in the air, calming on any other day, but today, it felt suffocating. Around her, an array of mannequins stood clad in flowing silks and shimmering fabrics, their jeweled embellishments catching the morning light that streamed through the grand windows. Each garment was a masterpiece, a testament to her skill, yet all she could see were the imperfections.
"Notty." Ludikrousz’s voice sliced through her thoughts. She turned to see him leaning casually against the doorway, his ever-present smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He was holding a cup of steaming tea, the picture of calm, while she felt like she was barely holding herself together.
"Don’t start," she warned, her voice tight.
"Start what?" He took a deliberate sip, eyebrows raised as though she’d accused him of something outrageous. "I’m just here to check on you. After last night, I figured you might need someone to make sure you haven’t drowned yourself in fabric dye."
Notty rolled her eyes but couldn’t summon the energy for a retort. He wasn’t wrong to check on her. The storm, the glow, the way her hands had pulsed with magic—everything from the night before felt like a fever dream, except the exhaustion in her bones told her it was very real.
"I don’t have time for your theatrics," she muttered, turning her attention to the sketchbook on the table. "The showcase is tonight, and if one more thing goes wrong, I might just set this whole place on fire."
Ludikrousz chuckled, setting the tea down on a nearby table. "Now, that would be dramatic. But let’s save the pyrotechnics for the stage, shall we? Besides, you’re a professional, remember? The talented, unshakable Notty."
"Unshakable," she repeated under her breath, laughing bitterly. If only he knew how close she was to falling apart.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the place had transformed into a flurry of motion. Assistants darted between racks of enchanted gowns, adjusting hems and whispering last-minute enchantments into the seams. The stage crew was already at the venue, ensuring the floating lights and shimmering runway spells were working perfectly.
Notty stood in the dressing room, staring at her reflection in the ornate mirror. She was dressed to perfection, her emerald green gown hugging her figure and shimmering with subtle magic that caught the light whenever she moved. Her dark hair was swept into an elegant updo, and her makeup was flawless. On the outside, she looked every bit the confident designer. On the inside, she was a mess.
A knock at the door startled her. "It’s me," Ludikrousz’s familiar voice called.
"Come in," she said, smoothing the front of her gown as if it could somehow fix the knot of nerves in her stomach.
He stepped in, looking as dashing as ever in a sleek black suit that seemed tailored by the gods themselves. His dark eyes scanned her, and for a moment, he looked almost impressed. "You clean up well," he said, tilting his head.
"You’re not so bad... yourself," she replied, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.
Ludikrousz approached her, his tone softening. "Are you ready for this?"
She wanted to say yes, to channel the confidence she was so good at projecting, but the truth slipped out before she could stop it. "I’m not sure. After last night… I don’t know what’s happening to me, Ludikrousz. What if I lose control again?"
He placed a hand on her shoulder, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "You won’t. Whatever’s happening, we’ll deal with it. But tonight, focus on what you do best. You’ve created something extraordinary, Notty. Show the world why they call you the best designer in Ridicullus."
Her breath hitched at his words, and for the first time all day, she felt a spark of reassurance. "Thanks," she said quietly.
"Anytime," he replied, stepping back and flashing her a grin. "Now, let’s get out there before your assistants start hyperventilating."
The venue was breathtaking, a massive ballroom transformed into a shimmering wonderland. Floating orbs of light illuminated the runway, which sparkled like a river of stars. Guests in their finest attire filled the seats, their chatter a mix of anticipation and excitement.
Backstage, Notty paced, her heart pounding in her chest as the first model stepped onto the runway. The audience erupted into applause, and for a brief moment, she let herself breathe. Each model wore one of her enchanted creations, and as they walked, the magic in the fabric came to life—gowns that shimmered like waterfalls, capes that sparkled with constellations, and suits that glowed with an otherworldly light.
But then, it happened. The moment was so subtle at first that Notty almost missed it. One of the gowns, a stunning piece made of layers of silver and gold threads, began to shift unnaturally as the model turned. The fabric shimmered more brightly than it should have, and then, to Notty’s horror, it moved. The gown wasn’t just animated—it was alive.
Gasps rippled through the audience as the gown began to float off the model’s body, twisting and turning in midair like a sentient being. The model froze, her eyes wide with terror, and the audience leaned forward, unsure if this was part of the show or a catastrophic failure.
"Ludikrousz!" Notty hissed, grabbing his arm.
"I see it," he said, his voice low and urgent. "What the hell is going on?"
"I don’t know!" she whispered back, panic rising in her chest. "It wasn’t supposed to do that. None of my spells should’ve—"
Her words cut off as the gown spiraled upward, its shimmering fabric stretching like wings. The magical lights above the runway flickered, and the gown let out a strange, otherworldly hum that sent shivers down Notty’s spine.
Ludikrousz acted fast, stepping forward with the calm authority he always seemed to summon in crises. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said, his voice cutting through the rising murmurs, "please remain seated. This is all part of the show."
Notty wanted to strangle him. Part of the show? This was a disaster, and he was treating it like a planned spectacle. But as she glanced at the audience, she realized his quick thinking was working. They were settling back into their seats, curiosity replacing panic.
The gown, however, had no intention of calming down. It swooped low, narrowly missing one of the other models before shooting toward the audience. Notty’s heart stopped as the enchanted fabric hovered over a group of nobles, its hum growing louder.
"Ludikrousz, do something!" she hissed.
He glanced at her, his smirk returning despite the chaos. "You’re the Dreamweaver, Notty. Isn’t this your specialty?"
Her blood ran cold. She hadn’t told him about her newfound powers—how could he know? But this wasn’t the time to interrogate him. With shaking hands, she stepped forward, her mind racing.
"Please," she whispered to the gown, her voice barely audible over the hum. "I created you. You’re mine. Listen to me."
For a moment, the gown stilled, as if hearing her words. The hum softened, and it began to descend, the audience holding their collective breath. But just as Notty reached out to touch it, the light within the fabric flared, and the gown exploded into a cascade of shimmering threads that filled the air like falling stars.
As the threads dissolved into the air, Notty stared at her trembling hands, her mind spinning with questions. The audience erupted into whispers, and Ludikrousz stepped beside her, his voice low and steady. "We need to talk," he said, his gaze locked on her glowing fingertips. The show wasn’t over—but the secrets it revealed were just beginning to uncover.