The weight of last night's revelations was too much for her to handle.
Her thoughts spun uncontrollably around: "Third Master… death… Sunday… fated to die… marry someone? Lord Nickolas? What the hell is happening to me?!"
The locket's glow brightened as if sensing her panic. "Calm down, brat. Think, first things first — survive today. Then ask questions. Stop panicking," Leo scolded, though a faint hint of amusement crept into his voice.
Shyla rubbed her eyes and forced herself to sit up. Her room looked normal—her dad's book was back in its usual place—but the locket on her palm hummed softly. "This thing… it's alive. It's… thinking, and I can hear his thoughts," she muttered. She couldn't stop glancing at it, expecting it to speak again.
"Yes, I'm alive, dumbass. But only for you," Leo replied, sharp and impatient.
Shyla groaned. "Why me? Why is everything so weird? I just wanted a normal life!" She wrapped the locket in her hand, hiding it in her pajama pocket. Somehow, she knew the world outside her room wouldn't stay normal for long.
Downstairs, the aroma of breakfast reached her, but she didn't move immediately. Thoughts of Sunday, Leo's cryptic warnings, and the mysterious Lord Nicolas weighed on her. "I need answers… but not yet. First… survive the morning. Then I'll deal with the rest," she whispered to herself.
The locket pulsed again, almost like it agreed. "Good. Smart girl. Start small… survive first," Leo's voice said, almost softer this time, though still sharp.
Shyla took a deep breath and finally got up, pulling on clothes quickly. Her mind was a whirlwind, but one thing was certain: she couldn't show anyone what she knew. Not mom, not John, not even Nora. "If they see this… they'll throw it away… or worse," she thought grimly.
She glanced at the locket in her pocket one last time before heading downstairs. "Okay… Sunday isn't here yet. I need breakfast… then figure out how to survive until then," she muttered.
The glow from the locket dimmed slightly, as if sensing her resolve. Leo, still inside, thought bitterly, "Survive… survive… that's all she's capable of for now. Stupid, dumb, Third Master. And yet… she's mine to protect. If she dies, I fail… but how do I make her understand before it's too late?"
The morning was quiet. Too quiet. But Shyla had no choice. The world was about to change—and she had to be ready.
Her approach near the breakfast table was visible as John straightened his posture. Nora was giggling, having her toast, and her mom was blushing. Shyla could guess the scene and rolled her eyes on them.
"Good morning," she muttered, sliding into her chair without bothering to hide her irritation.
Nora, still giggling, pointed her butter knife at Shyla. "You look weird today, sis. Did you… dream of your prince charming last night?" She laughed again, crumbs spilling on her plate.
Shyla shot her a glare sharp enough to kill. "If only you knew what nightmare I had…" she thought, stuffing bread into her mouth.
Her mom, still pink in the cheeks, looked at her. "Shyla, eat properly, we have lots to do before Sunday. Don't forget."
That word SUNDAY hit her like a hammer. Her hand froze mid-air. Slowly, she placed the toast back down. Her eyes darted to the pocket where the locket was hidden. It pulsed once, faintly, like it had heard too.
John cleared his throat loudly, trying to cover the tension, but his straightened shoulders gave away his nerves. He wasn't just acting formal — he was trying to impress.
Shyla exhaled through her nose and smirked. "Pathetic… this whole table is like a comedy show," she thought, sipping her juice.
"We're leaving tomorrow for New York. My packing's done, Mom. Do you need any help?" Shyla asked—though she didn't mean it.
"No, dear. We're done," John and Lily said in unison. "I'll go to the office now." John grabbed his bag and headed for the door.
"I'm going to the library," Lily said. "I have to return some books I borrowed."
"Can I come?" Nora jumped in. "The library you go to is mesmerizing—ancient, quiet… I could live there. And—sorry about yesterday. I was jealous and tried to steal the dress. I can't always control it when Mom and Dad give you extra attention." Shyla blinked.
Nora's face looked honest. She felt something soften in her chest. Nora reached into her bag and pulled out a small parcel. "I know you don't like to celebrate your birthday, but here… a little gift." She handed Shyla a book. Shyla's favorite author.
"Thanks, Nora. And it's okay about yesterday. I know you too well," Shyla said, forcing a smile that felt like it might break.
Nora grinned, relieved. Lily kissed both their heads. John waved from the doorway like he'd practiced the motion an hour before.
Shyla slid the new book into her bag, thumbed the edge of the locket inside her pocket, and nodded. "I'll come with you to the library," she said before she could stop herself. She didn't want to say why—didn't want Leo listening in on her mind like a bad radio—but something in her wanted to be near places that felt quiet and old. Maybe the locket liked that.
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SOMEWHERE IN SHADOW
"BUT I NEED CLARK FAMILY'S BLOOD," Ash snarled, fists white around the chalice. "For twenty years you've been useless — unable to find ALEXANDAR. What do I even pay you for?"
"Master Ash…" one of the men stammered, voice thin. "We have scoured every ledger, every ledger-house, every old registry—no trace. No migration papers. It's like he never existed."
Ash slammed the chalice down. Wine sloshed, staining the stone floor. "Excuses," he spat. "Alishya can't wait. And I do not bargain with excuses."
Another agent, younger, harder-eyed stepped forward, bowing his head. "There is one possibility, Master. If Alexandar vanished, his blood still runs somewhere. A descendant."