The afternoon bled into evening. The rain had stopped, but the clouds hung low, heavy with silence. Shyla sat at her desk; textbooks open but unread. Her gaze drifted again and again to the small black phone Ash had given her. It lay motionless beside her notebook... innocent in appearance, dangerous in implication.
The locket pulsed faintly against her skin. "Curiosity feeds the thread. If you reach, he will pull."
Shyla sighed. "He already has," she murmured, fingers brushing the cool metal of the locket.
For hours she fought the impulse, flipping through pages she didn't see, pretending to study. But the memory of his voice lingered the calm certainty, the quiet intensity when he'd said, "Text me." It felt less like an invitation and more like an inevitability.
Finally, she picked up the phone. Her thumb hovered over the screen, hesitating. Then she typed:
Shyla:I made it home.
For a moment, nothing. The screen stayed dark. Her pulse quickened; she felt foolish, childish even, for expecting a response. The locket remained silent this time, as though watching.
Then the phone buzzed.
Ash:I know.
She blinked, rereading it. The simplicity of the words made her skin prickle. She typed quickly before she could think—
Shyla:You were there?
The reply came almost instantly.
Ash:I'm usually where I need to be.
The locket flared suddenly, warmth spreading against her chest. "He watches too closely. Withdraw now... master."
But her fingers didn't listen. They moved on their own.
Shyla:Why?
This time the pause stretched longer, like the world was holding its breath. When the message appeared, it was slower, deliberate.
Ash:Because you matter more than you think.
Shyla's breath caught. The words looked harmless, almost kind, but they carried a weight that sank into her chest.
"Do not let his gentleness disarm you," the locket warned. "He does not speak without reason."
She locked the screen quickly, as if that could erase the conversation. But the glow of the words burned behind her eyes.
Outside, thunder rumbled faintly, distant but steady. Shyla turned toward the window. The city lights shimmered under a soft drizzle again, and for a fleeting second, she thought she saw a silhouette near the far end of the street... motionless, watching.
The locket pulsed, slow and uneasy. "He's close."
Shyla whispered to herself, barely audible, "I know."
The phone vibrated once more on her desk. One new message.
Ash:You shouldn't look out the window so often. Someone might think you're waiting for me.
Her breath froze. The locket's warmth turned sharp, protective. "He sees. Step back."
But Shyla couldn't move. She only stared into the gray rain outside, pulse thudding in time with the locket, wondering if this was fear… or fascination.