School was louder than Arlee expected.
Not in sound—though there was plenty of that—but in presence. Hallways pulsed with movement and emotion, lockers slammed like punctuation marks, laughter rose and fell in unpredictable waves. After graves that listened and houses that watched, the chaos should have been comforting.
Instead, it felt exposed.
Arlee stood just inside the entrance, fingers curled around the strap of her bag, silver hair pulled back tight like she could hide inside it. The charm at her neck was cool and quiet, but her skin prickled anyway, awareness stretched thin in too many directions at once.
"New girl freeze?"
The voice came from her left—warm, amused, unmistakably human.
Arlee turned.
The girl standing there was her age, maybe a little shorter, with deep brown skin and sharp, expressive eyes that missed nothing. Her hair was braided neatly, pulled into a messy bun that looked intentional despite its chaos. She held two coffees in one hand and wore a smile that suggested she'd already decided they were going to be friends.
"I get it," the girl continued. "First day is a lot. I'm Nyla."
She held out one of the coffees without hesitation.
Arlee blinked. "I didn't—"
"Don't drink coffee?" Nyla shrugged. "Then you can hold it for emotional support."
Despite herself, Arlee laughed softly. The tension in her shoulders loosened a fraction as she took the cup.
"Arlee," she said.
"Cute name," Nyla said immediately. "Okay, come on. If you stand still too long in this place, someone will ask you for directions or gossip, and neither ends well."
They walked together down the hall, Nyla narrating under her breath—who to avoid, which teachers pretended to be scary, which bathrooms were actually usable. It was easy. Too easy. Like slipping into a rhythm Arlee hadn't realized she missed.
"You just moved here, right?" Nyla asked.
"Yeah. Recently."
Nyla studied her face—not rudely, but carefully. "You don't look like someone who wanted to move."
Arlee's grip tightened on the cup. "Is it that obvious?"
"Only if you know how to look," Nyla said lightly. "You've got that 'trying not to fall apart' energy."
Arlee glanced at her. "You say that like it's normal."
"It is," Nyla replied. "This town just hides it better."
They reached the stairs just as the bell rang. Students surged forward, and in the movement, Arlee felt it again.
That pull.
Her breath caught as her gaze lifted instinctively—finding him before her mind could stop her.
Eli stood halfway up the stairs, backpack slung over one shoulder, talking to someone who barely held his attention. When Arlee appeared in his line of sight, his body reacted before his face did—subtle, unconscious, but unmistakable.
He turned.
Their eyes met.
The world narrowed.
It wasn't dramatic. No sparks. No thunder. Just a quiet, dangerous awareness sliding into place like it had always been meant to sit there.
Eli's mouth curved into a slow, surprised smile.
Nyla noticed immediately.
"Oh," she murmured. "That's interesting."
Arlee tore her gaze away, heat creeping up her neck. "What is?"
Nyla leaned closer. "You didn't even see him until you felt him."
Arlee's heart pounded. "You're imagining things."
"Please," Nyla said. "I live for noticing things people don't want noticed."
Eli stepped closer, navigating through students with ease. When he stopped in front of Arlee, it felt intentional—as if he'd chosen this moment carefully.
"Hey," he said. His voice was easy, but his eyes searched her face like he was checking something important. "History, right?"
"Yeah," Arlee replied.
"I figured," he said. "You look like someone who hates repeating stories."
She snorted softly before she could stop herself.
Nyla's eyebrows shot up. "Wow. That bad, huh?"
Eli blinked. "Sorry—didn't mean to interrupt."
Nyla smiled brightly. "You didn't. I'm Nyla."
"Eli."
They shook hands, and for just a second—just a heartbeat—Arlee felt the air shift. Not dangerously. Just… aware.
Nyla didn't miss that either.
"Well," Nyla said, clapping her hands once. "Look at that. New girl already collecting people. I approve."
History class passed in fragments—dates and names sliding past Arlee without sticking. Eli sat beside her, close enough that she could feel his warmth, his presence grounding in a way nothing else had been since her father died.
When their arms brushed, neither of them moved away.
It wasn't sexual—not yet—but it was charged. Awareness wrapped in restraint. The kind of closeness that made her breath shallow and her thoughts scatter.
At lunch, Nyla insisted they sit together.
"So," Nyla said, stabbing her salad with intent, "what's your deal?"
Arlee blinked. "My… deal?"
"Everyone has one," Nyla said. "Especially people who move in the way you do. Like you're bracing for impact."
Arlee hesitated. Eli watched her closely, not pushing, just present.
"My dad died," Arlee said quietly.
The table went still.
Nyla's expression softened immediately. "Oh. I'm sorry."
Eli's jaw tightened. "Yeah. I—yeah."
Something unspoken passed between them.
Across the cafeteria, someone was watching.
She was beautiful in the sharp, curated way—long dark hair, perfect posture, eyes that lingered too long on Eli. When she noticed Arlee looking, her lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Who's that?" Arlee asked.
Nyla followed her gaze and groaned. "That's Mara."
Eli stiffened. Just slightly.
"Mara what?" Arlee asked.
"Mara problem," Nyla replied. "She doesn't like losing attention. Ever."
Mara stood, smoothed her skirt, and walked over.
"Eli," she said sweetly. "You didn't answer my text."
Eli leaned back in his chair. "I was busy."
Her gaze flicked to Arlee, assessing. Measuring. "I see."
Something cold brushed Arlee's awareness—not supernatural. Emotional. Intentional.
"Hi," Mara said. "I'm Mara."
"Arlee," she replied.
Mara smiled wider. "Welcome to town."
The words sounded polite. The tone did not.
After school, Arlee walked home with Nyla and Eli. The air felt heavier now, anticipation coiling tight in her chest. When they reached her street, Eli slowed.
"So," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I live next door."
Arlee's heart stuttered. "I noticed."
Nyla grinned. "Of course you did."
Eli hesitated, then said quietly, "If you ever need… company. Or help. Or just someone who doesn't ask questions right away."
Arlee met his gaze. "I might."
The moment stretched—too intimate for the sidewalk, too restrained to break.
Then Mara's laughter rang out from down the street.
The thread tightened.
As Arlee stepped into her house, the charm at her neck warmed faintly—not in warning.
In interest.
And deep beneath the town, something ancient shifted, irritated and alert.
Because Arlee Storm had not only been seen—
She had been chosen.
And she had started to choose back.