Christabel didn't sleep.
She sat in bed, knees pulled to her chest, the covers drawn tight like armor. The moon hung low, fat and yellow behind the fogged glass. Somewhere in the house, floorboards creaked. Not randomly. Not like the settling of old wood.
A rhythm.
Soft. Measured.
Steps.
Fedrica's words looped in her head: "The floor remembers. The steps are always the same."
She tried not to look at the note pinned to the back of her door. She'd crumpled it once. It had returned. Uncreased. Still damp with ink.
She waited until morning, then went searching.
Not for answers. Not really.
She just needed… to move.
She found the old study again, the room where she'd first seen the music box. Dust lay thick on the desk, but the box itself was gone. Only its outline remained—clean, sharp, like something had leached the dust away in its shape.
Behind the desk, a shelf jutted out unevenly.
She ran her fingers along the wood. Found a groove. A notch.
A journal, hidden behind the false panel.
The leather binding was cracked. The first page was brittle, faded with ink and sweat.
Annabel. Rehearsal Log.
Christabel's breath caught.
The entries were uneven—some neat, some frantic.
"Mother says I should be grateful. I said I wanted to be graceful. She misunderstood. Or maybe she didn't."
"The box sings when I'm angry. Or sad. Or afraid. It doesn't care. It just plays."
"Margaret says not to let it touch my skin. Too late. I danced for hours. My toes bled. But I couldn't stop."
And then:
"The others came after. The ones who danced before me. In mirrors. In dreams. Sometimes I hear them clapping when I sleep."
Christabel turned the page—and froze.
A drawing. Childlike. Smudged.
A line of ballerinas in a circle. Some missing faces. Some turned backward. In the center: the music box.
A line scrawled beneath:
"You don't get to stop until someone else wants it more."
Behind her, the floor creaked.
She turned.
Nothing.
Just the long corridor, swallowing light.
But when she looked back at the journal—
It was closed.
And her own name was written on the cover.