Darkness.
It swallowed her whole. Cold and endless, it pressed against Avalyn's chest until every breath felt stolen. She tried to rise, but the void clung tighter, pulling her deeper.
Then came a voice — soft, steady, and heartbreakingly warm.
"Please, Avalyn… open your eyes."
The sound was familiar in a way that made her heart ache, like a melody she'd heard in another life. She tried to obey, but the darkness refused to release her.
The voice faded until only a faint heartbeat echoed in the distance — rhythmic, patient, waiting.
Then, through the haze, another voice broke through.
"Ava! Ava, wake up!"
Lily's voice. Real, urgent.
Avalyn gasped and broke the surface of the pool. Water poured from her lips as she coughed for air.
Her vision blurred, but Lily's red hair was the first thing she saw — a blaze against the dying sun.
"I'm fine," Avalyn managed to whisper, though her shaking hands betrayed her.
The two swam to the edge in silence. As Avalyn climbed out, the wind hit her skin, cool and sharp, turning her soaked hair to ice.
The sunset bled across the sky — molten gold fading into bruised violet.
Lily stood beside her, beautiful as ever, droplets glistening on her freckled shoulders. Her eyes, the blue of deep water, searched Avalyn's face with concern.
Avalyn looked away, forcing a small smile. Some truths — like the one that had once made her heart race whenever Lily laughed — were better buried.
They dried off and gathered their things. The stillness of the evening pressed down, heavier than before.
"Forgot my phone," Avalyn sighed. "It's in your room."
Inside the house, the air smelled faintly of polished wood and something expensive. Avalyn prayed she wouldn't run into him.
"Avalyn!" The voice came before the man did, smooth and far too eager.
Jack Milburn appeared in the doorway — tall, lean, and smugly handsome in a way that made her skin crawl. His smile didn't reach his eyes.
"So nice to see you," he drawled. "When will you ever draw me, Ava? You could sell that portrait — buy yourself something nice."
Avalyn forced a polite smile. "Maybe one day. Your face looks easy to draw."
Lily stifled a laugh, grabbing Avalyn's arm and pulling her upstairs before Jack could answer.
"You could shower here," Lily said.
"Not with your stepdad lurking around," Avalyn muttered. "I'm not in the mood to be his next art project."
Lily chuckled. "You know he's obsessed with you, right?"
"Yeah," Avalyn replied dryly. "And I'm obsessed with leaving."
They talked a little more, until the laughter came easier again. But when Avalyn finally stepped back outside, the light had drained from the sky.
The streets were empty, soaked in twilight. Her wet hair clung to her neck, and the scent of chlorine followed her like a ghost.
She checked her phone — a message from Jason: I miss you. She stared at the words until they blurred, then tucked the phone away.
That was when she collided with someone.
The impact was gentle, but enough to jolt her back to the moment. She looked up — and the world seemed to still.
A man stood before her, tall and impossibly still, as though time moved differently around him. His eyes were silver — not gray, but the molten shimmer of light trapped in water.
They caught hers and held them, ancient and knowing, filled with sorrow that felt eternal.
His hair was black, falling in soft waves against his shoulders, a few strands brushing across his brow.
His skin held a faint luminescence, pale like marble under moonlight, and too perfect for anything human.
His lips — full, defined, and just shy of cruel — curved as if they remembered how to smile but had forgotten why.
He wore black, simple yet regal, the fabric clinging to him as though it feared to let go. The faint glimmer of a chain peeked from beneath his collar, and when he moved, the air itself seemed to follow — cooler, quieter, reverent.
Avalyn couldn't look away. His beauty was unreal — not the kind that comforted, but the kind that warned. He was beautiful the way storms are beautiful.
He raised a hand slowly, stopping just short of her chest. His fingers hovered near her heart, close enough for her to feel the pull of something unseen.
"You can see me," he said — his voice deep, smooth, and rich as shadow. It wasn't a question. It was a truth he had not expected to speak aloud.
For a moment, Avalyn forgot to breathe. The night seemed to hold its breath with her.
Then the world stirred again — a whisper of wind, a flicker of streetlight — and something inside her shifted, as if the darkness she'd fought so hard to escape had just found its way back.