I didn't finish my dares by New Year's, but I am still eager to finish them. The show must go on!

02. I ASCEND, I ASCEND
EAGLE FEATHER QUILL: a character literally or figuratively "soars," only to crash into reality

Snow had not yet reached the streets of Falmouth, but it clung to the upper air—thin, sharp, waiting. Celestina Warbeck stood at the tallest window of her dressing room, gazing down as if the city itself were an audience she had already conquered.

Tonight was a triumph.

Another sold-out hall. Another enchanted encore demanded before she had even sung a note.

She felt it, that buoyant, intoxicating lift just beneath the ribs. The sense that she was untouchable. That she could rise on nothing but breath and applause and be carried wherever she pleased.

"You're glowing," her stylist murmured, fastening the final clasp of Celestina's gown. "Like you could take flight."

Celestina smiled, wicked and knowing. "Oh, love," she said lightly, "haven't you heard? I already have."

It was easy to believe it. Fame had taught her how to soar, how to skim above consequences, how to let praise catch her like an updraft. Even Thaddeus' quiet worries that morning many days ago had barely brushed her.

"You don't have to push so hard," he'd said, careful, grounding. "You don't always have to be on."

She had laughed then, sharp and careless. "This is who I am. I don't land, darling. I ascend."

The look on his face had flickered, brief as a shadow passing over the sun. She hadn't followed him when he left the room.

⋆ ꙳ ❅ * ⋆ ꙳ ❅ * ⋆ ꙳ ❅ * ⋆ ꙳ ❅ * ⋆ ꙳ ❅ * ⋆ ꙳ ❅ * ⋆
The curtains parted.

The applause struck like wind beneath wings that were loud, lifting, irresistible. Celestina stepped onto the circular platform on stage, chin high, heart racing with delicious certainty.

"Good evening, my dazzling darlings," she purred. "Tonight, we fly."

A flick of her wand released a shimmery translucent stream, the platform encasing itself into a glowing snowglobe. Snow spiralled slowly around her, clinging to nothing, as if even gravity had been charmed away as the orchestra swelled.

The platform rose beneath her feet, charmed to lift her upward. The crowd gasped. Celestina laughed, breathless, delighted by their awe.

She spread her arms and sang.

"Shake me up, darling—watch the world snow down,
Crystal skies kiss my heels as I rise,
Spin me once more now, don't make me frown,
I drink every cheer from your dazzled eyes.

I was born for the lift, for the hush and the heat,
For breathless wands tracing my name in the air,
Tip the globe, love—feel fate miss a beat,
I float where the reckless and radiant dare.

If I fall, let it be in a curtain of light,
With your wanting gaze still warm on my skin,
Wind me higher, my sweet, for I don't say goodnight—
I ascend, I ascend... till the snow breaks me in."

The audience erupted. The lift charm carried her higher, the lights following as if the stars themselves had been summoned to spotlight her ascent.

Then the music stuttered. Just a breath. Just enough.

The snowglobe platform faltered, dropping a few inches before it steadied. Too small for the crowd to notice.

But Celestina felt it.

Her voice caught—not audibly, but inside. A sudden, cold awareness sliced through the thrill.

Gravity had not vanished.

It had only been waiting.

She pressed on, smile blazing, voice rich and sultry as she descended back toward the stage.

Backstage, during the brief hush between acts, her pulse thundered. Her hands shook as she reached for water, suddenly keenly aware of the floor beneath her feet. Solid. Unforgiving.

A stagehand murmured that the charm had slipped, nothing serious, fixed now. But Celestina couldn't shake the memory of Thaddeus' face. The way he'd looked at her then, not angry, not pleading, just... left behind.