The morning after her encounter with Ash, Shyla woke with the uneasy sensation that her dreams had been stolen. She remembered fragments—dark eyes, a smile too carefully measured, and the pulse of her locket burning as though it fought something unseen.
Her reflection in the mirror looked paler than usual, lips pressed tight. She touched the locket through her blouse. Leo, what if he's right here, watching?
Leo's response was quiet but stern. Then you do not meet his gaze again. Bluemines do not give without taking, Shyla. They take until nothing remains.
Her throat tightened, but she said nothing, dressing quickly and forcing herself into the rhythm of the new day. Herried downstairs.
"Big day again, babe?" Lily's soft voice drifted in from the doorway. She leaned against the frame; her expression touched with motherly pride. "Second day is harder than the first, you know. Now you actually have to remember where to go."
Shyla chuckled weakly, meeting her mother's eyes in the mirror. "I'll manage."
Behind Lily, Nora peeked in, eyes wide and mischievous. "Don't forget to look for a club, Shy! Join something fun or at least make a friend. Someone has to keep you from turning into a bookworm like John."
"Hey," John's voice rumbled from the kitchen, deep and mock-offended. "I heard that!"
Laughter echoed briefly, filling the apartment with a lightness that didn't quite reach Shyla's heart. She pressed the locket against her collarbone, feeling its faint, steady pulse. It was quiet now, but the silence felt heavier than before. she left for campus.
College buzzed with the same restless energy as the day before.
Shyla kept her head low; arms wrapped around her books like a shield. She felt eyes on her—maybe real, maybe imagined—but the weight of it refused to lift. Every time her mind flicked back to Ash's dark gaze, a tremor raced through her body.
She slipped into her lecture hall, sitting near the back. The professor's voice droned, students scribbled notes, and for a moment, Shyla almost convinced herself it was normal. Almost.
"The air is restless here," Leo whispered, his voice like wind against her ear.
Shyla gripped her pen tighter. "I know," she thought silently, not daring to move.
The lecture ended. Students spilled into the corridors like waves crashing against stone. Shyla clutched her notebook, weaving through the chaos until she froze. The pull was subtle but undeniable. Her breath hitched.
And then... he was there.
Ash leaned casually against the wall near the exit, arms crossed, eyes scanning the crowd as though searching for something. For her, when his gaze locked onto hers, everything else blurred.
"Shyla," he greeted smoothly, like they had known each other for years rather than hours. "I was hoping I'd see you again."
She blinked, startled. "You… were?"
Ash's lips curved faintly, never too much, always perfectly measured. "Of course. New place, new faces, and it's easy to get lost. Thought I'd check in."
Someone brushed past her, jolting her forward, and Ash steadied her with a hand against her arm. His touch was cool, steady, and the locket beneath her blouse pulsed violently, protesting the contact.
Leo's voice slashed through her head. "Pull away. Danger."
But Shyla didn't not immediately. The pull that radiated from him was strange, magnetic. She knew she should step back, yet her feet refused.
Ash tilted his head, dark eyes studying her as though searching for cracks. "You're still figuring this place out, aren't you?"
She swallowed. "Something like that."
He smiled again, and for a terrifying heartbeat, she almost smiled back.
"Let me help you, then," he offered, easy, disarming. "You don't have to wander alone."
Shyla managed a stiff nod, words tangled in her throat. "Maybe."
Before she could say more, a group of students called out his name. Ash excused himself with perfect timing, slipping into the crowd, his presence vanishing like smoke. But the echo of him lingered on her skin, in her chest, in the locket's furious pulse.
Evening draped itself across the city, painting the skyline in orange and violet, the apartment smelled of garlic and herbs, Lily humming softly as she stirred a pan. Nora danced across the living room with exaggerated twirls, while John tightened window locks and checked the door twice.
Dinner was filled with Nora's chatter new friends she'd met, drawings she wanted to tape to the wall, jokes she half-invented. Lily's laughter was warm, John's steady presence grounding.
Shyla tried to play along, but her fork moved slower than the conversation, her mind caught on Ash's voice, his gaze, that strange pull.
"Shy?" Nora finally teased, leaning across the table. "You look like you saw a ghost. Or… maybe a boy?"
Heat rushed to Shyla's cheeks. "Nora!"
Lily arched an eyebrow, playful suspicion in her eyes. "A boy?"
"No," Shyla blurted, too quickly. "It's nothing. Just… a long day."
John's gaze sharpened, not playful at all. "If anyone bothers you—"
"They didn't," she cut in, forcing a smile. "Really." But inside, the locket pulsed harder, as though mocking her denial.
That night, Shyla sat by her window again. The city glimmered below, alive with stories she couldn't hear. She pressed her forehead to the cool glass, clutching the locket tight.
"Leo," she whispered into the silence. "Why does it feel like I know him? Like he's… familiar?"
The locket's voice slid into her mind, colder than before. "Because he wants you to feel that. They are masters of weaving threads into hearts. But it is not love... it is a trap."
"Who are they?" Shyla pressed, voice trembling.
"Bluemines," Leo hissed. "Shadow-walkers. They are watching you. For what, I cannot yet see. But you must not let them close."
Her grip tightened around the locket. "And Ash… he's one of them?"
"Yes. Stay away from him. He does not seek your friendship, Shyla. He seeks what you carry."
She shivered, remembering the coolness of his hand, the steady weight of his gaze. "Then why does it feel so… different? Why do I want to believe him?"
Silence. Then Leo's voice, heavier than ever: "Because you are vulnerable. And because he knows how to pull at strings unseen. Remember this: Nickolas is your true bond. Your husband by the law of our kind. Not Ash... it can ever be Ash."
The name Nickolas rang in her ears like a distant bell, familiar yet unreachable. She shut her eyes, breathing hard. "Nickolas," she whispered, the word trembling on her lips.
But Leo said nothing more. His silence pressed heavier than his warnings, leaving her alone with the ache of confusion.
Far across the rooftops, shrouded in shadows, Ash stood. His gaze lingered on the faint glow of her window, his lips curved into the faintest smirk.
"She feels it already," he murmured to the night. "The pull... the bond I'll weave tighter, thread by thread."
Behind him, one of his agents shifted. "Shall we move closer, my lord?"
Ash shook his head. "No... Not yet, have Patience, she will come willingly. She must offer it freely." His eyes gleamed, colder than the night around him. "And when she does, Alishya will rise."
The city roared below, unaware. And in a single apartment window, Shyla pressed her locket to her heart, unaware of how deep the game had already begun.