The morning light spilled through the curtains, soft and golden, but it did little to calm the storm inside Shyla. The ball was tonight, and already her chest felt tight with anticipation, nerves, and the strange pull of the locket against her heart.
Her mother bustled into the room, a flurry of energy and excitement.
"Shy! Today is the day. I want to see you shine tonight," she said, hands clasped, eyes bright. "You must meet him properly, you know. Nickolas Alaric — he sounds very… distinguished!"
Shyla groaned, tugging at her shirt. "Mom, I don't even know what to say to him. I—"
"And don't you dare look overwhelmed!" her stepdad chimed in from the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. "You'll make a first impression. Impress him, or I'll personally drag you through introductions."
Shyla rolled her eyes, cheeks warming. "I'm not even sure I want to impress anyone right now, and how many times are you going to say that." she muttered.
Before her mother could respond, a familiar teasing voice cut through the tension.
"Someone's nervous," Nora said, lounging on the edge of the bed, a playful grin on her face. "You're fidgeting like a leaf in a storm. Tell me, Shy — is it the famous Nickolas Alaric, or… Ash, maybe?"
Shyla blinked, nearly dropping her locket. "Nora! Stop it! and don't stupid text me always."
"I'm just saying," Nora continued, smirking. "I'd watch the door for him if I were you. You know… just in case someone sneaks in."
Shyla's fingers curled around the locket, feeling Leo's insistent pulse — steady, insistent, and a warning she could never ignore.
"You'll be careful, right?" Leo murmured, his voice threading through her thoughts like a lifeline. "Nickolas is your mate. Do not falter. Do not… let shadows pull you away."
Shyla swallowed hard. "I know, Leo… I won't."
Her mother, sensing her hesitation, moved closer, smoothing a stray strand of hair. "Shy, it's just one evening. Remember your manners, smile… and enjoy yourself. You never know — he could be wonderful."
"And if he's not?" Shyla muttered under her breath, pressing the locket to her chest.
Her stepdad chuckled. "Then you'll survive. You always do."
Nora jumped up, circling the room like a sparrow, eyes gleaming. "You're going to have the best night ever. And if Ash tries anything… well, we'll see, won't we?"
Shyla flinched. "Nora! Stop teasing!"
But even as laughter and chatter filled the room, the locket's pulse remained constant — a reminder, a warning, and a tether to a storm she couldn't yet face.
Outside, the wind stirred, carrying a faint, elusive presence. The shadow lingered at the edge of awareness, unseen by Leo, silent, and patient.
Shyla took a deep breath, adjusting her dress for the hundredth time. Tonight, nothing would be simple — family, friends, Nickolas, Ash… and him.
The thought made her stomach twist, and yet, she couldn't deny it: she would feel every heartbeat, every glance, every shadow — tonight.
The evening arrived like a carefully orchestrated storm — lights twinkling across the campus lawn, chandeliers suspended from tall trees, and music floating softly, mingling with the crisp night air.
Shyla's mother insisted on helping her with the final touches, adjusting her hair and smoothing the fabric of her gown. Her stepdad hovered nearby, proud and fidgety, making small talk with anyone who came close.
"Remember your posture," her mother said, brushing a loose strand from Shyla's cheek. "Confidence, Shy. Smile when you speak."
Shyla nodded, trying to focus, though her thoughts wandered endlessly between Nickolas and the lingering pulse of the locket. Leo's warning echoed in her mind like a drum: "Do not falter. He is your mate."
Nora, impossibly cheerful, grabbed Shyla's hand and twirled her toward the entrance. "Come on, nervous Nellie. The night is waiting, and I swear — the moment he appears, you'll feel it. I can practically smell destiny."
Shyla grimaced, tugging at her gown. "Destiny doesn't exactly care about my nerves, you know."
"Maybe," Nora replied with a mischievous glint. "But tonight, so do you."
The guests began to arrive in waves. Students in elegant gowns and tailored suits, professors trying to look less formal than usual, and whispers of Nickolas Alaric followed them like a shadow of expectation.
And then — as if summoned by fate itself — he arrived.
Nickolas Alaric Draven stepped onto the lawn with an effortless grace, eyes scanning the crowd, lips set in a line that could have been carved from stone. The energy around him hummed, palpable and ancient, drawing attention even from those who didn't know him.
Shyla froze mid-step, her fingers tightening around the locket. Every heartbeat echoed against her chest as if the world had slowed, waiting.
Leo's voice flared in her mind, urgent and insistent: "Do not falter. He is your mate. You must see him clearly. Protect your heart until the choice is yours."
Shyla blinked, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down. Her mother nudged her forward, smiling, while her stepdad gave her an encouraging thumbs-up.
"Shy, go on," her mother whispered. "Meet him properly."
And as she stepped forward, something shifted at the edge of her awareness. A familiar pull — subtle, almost like a shadow brushing against her senses. Leo flared, alert, but the presence was elusive, hidden. That was the shadow... she knew that too well.
Her breath caught, pulse quickening. Not now, she told herself. Not now, she told herself. Not here. Not tonight. Confusion blurred everything between her and the crowd — until her gaze locked with the crimson eyes watching her.
Nickolas' eyes met hers across the crowded lawn — a spark, recognition, and an unspoken promise. And even as she took her first careful steps toward him, the shadow lingered, patient, unseen, waiting for the night to unfold.