Elena Gilbert stepped onto a smooth expanse of grass, the spongy blades col apsing beneath her feet. Clusters of scarlet roses and violet delphiniums pushed up from the ground, while a giant canopy hung above her, twinkling with glowing lanterns. On the terrace in front of her stood two curving white marble fountains that shot sprays of water high into the air. Everything was beautiful, elegant, and somehow familiar. This is Bloddeuwedd's palace, a voice in her head said. But when she had been here last, the field had been crowded with laughing, dancing partygoers. They were gone now, although signs of their presence remained: empty glasses littered the tables set around the edges of the lawn; a silken shawl was tossed over a chair; a lone high-heeled shoe perched on the edge of a fountain. Something else was odd, too. Before, the scene had been lit by the hel ish red light that il uminated everything in the Dark Dimension, turning blues to purples, whites to pinks, and pinks to the velvety color of blood. Now a clear light shone over everything, and a ful white moon sailed calmly overhead. A whisper of movement came from behind her, and Elena realized with a start that she wasn't alone after al . A dark figure was suddenly there, approaching her. Damon. Of course it was Damon, Elena thought with a smile. If anyone was going