The Whisper in the dark
Allan sat at the grand dining table, idly pushing his food around his plate. Across from him, his father, Charles Wallace, sat with perfect posture, his sharp eyes focused on his son
"You need to take things more seriously, Allan," Charles said, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "Our family name is everything. You can't afford to be reckless. The Wallace name holds a legacy, and I expect you to uphold it."
Allan barely spared him a glance, his fingers drumming against the table. "I'm already doing what you expect, aren't I? I keep up appearances. I do what needs to be done. What more do you want?"
Charles sighed, shaking his head in disapproval. "You lack discipline. You walk around as if nothing truly matters. People notice these things, Allan."
Before Allan could respond, the heavy dining room doors swung open, and Cara strolled in, her Scottish accent light and teasing. "Now, now, Uncle Charles, must you always lecture him at the dinner table? Poor Allan looks like he's about to wither away under all that scrutiny."
She plopped down into a chair, her presence instantly shifting the tense atmosphere. "You two need to stop being so stiff all the time. It's exhausting to watch."
Allan smirked slightly as his father scoffed, pushing back his chair. "I'll be in my study. Don't forget, Allan—the gala is next Saturday. I expect you to act accordingly."
With that, Charles left the room, leaving Allan and Cara alone. Cara grabbed a roll from the basket in the center of the table, taking a bite before speaking again. "So, about the gala—I suppose I'll have to suffer through another night of forced smiles and mind-numbingly dull conversations."
"You love the attention," Allan pointed out.
Cara grinned. "Of course, I do. But even I have my limits. And speaking of people I can't stand, guess who's likely to make an appearance?"
Allan raised a brow. "Who?"
"Eleanor, obviously," Cara scoffed. "I swear, she walks around like she owns the place. That girl is insufferable."
Allan leaned back in his chair. "She's harmless."
Cara made a face. "You say that because you don't have to deal with her directly. She's got an ego the size of this house. You should hear the way she talks to people—like they're beneath her."
Allan chuckled but didn't argue. Instead, he shifted the conversation. "Speaking of people who are different… there's this girl, Ariel."
Cara's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Ariel, huh? You don't usually bring up girls in conversation. What's so special about her?"
Allan hesitated for a moment before answering. "She's… different."
"Different how?" Cara pressed, smirking. "Do you mean 'different' as in interesting or 'different' as in you fancy her?"
Allan rolled his eyes. "You're reading too much into it. There's just something about her that doesn't quite fit the mold."
Cara leaned forward with a teasing grin. "Oh, Allan, you're intrigued. This is new. Should I start planning the wedding?"
Allan shook his head, but a small smile played on his lips. Then, as if turning the tables, he smirked at Cara. "Speaking of being intrigued, what about you and Ian?"
Cara instantly straightened, feigning indifference. "What about Ian?"
"You seem to talk about him a lot," Allan said, enjoying the rare moment of having the upper hand. "Maybe I should start planning your wedding instead."
Cara scoffed, tossing a piece of bread at him. "You wish. Ian and I are just friends."
"Right," Allan drew. "Just friends."
Cara huffed but couldn't hide the slight flush in her cheeks. "Oh, shut up and eat your food."
Allan chuckled, shaking his head as he finally took a bite of his dinner, the earlier tension of the evening completely replaced by Cara's presence.
---
The next day at school, Xavier strolled into class with his usual carefree energy, spotting Audrey already seated with her books neatly arranged. Without hesitation, he slid into the chair beside her and wrapped an arm around her neck, pulling her close just to annoy her.
Audrey exhaled sharply but didn't push him away immediately. Instead, she gave him a sidelong glance, her lips twitching with amusement.
"Do you have a death wish, Xavier?" she muttered, her thick British accent making the threat sound almost elegant.
Xavier only grinned. "I'm just greeting my queen," he replied smoothly, resting his chin on her shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Audrey rolled her eyes but smirked as she placed a hand on his chest and gave him a light shove. "Your queen, huh? How about I have you executed for treason?"
He feigned a gasp. "Treason? But I'm your most loyal subject! You wouldn't dare."
Audrey tilted her head, pretending to consider. "Hmm… maybe I'll just exile you instead."
Xavier chuckled, finally releasing her, but not before ruffling her hair, much to her dismay. She let out a small squeak, immediately smoothing it back down with an irritated look
Across the room, Audrey's friends, Ashley and Freya, exchanged knowing looks. Freya raised a brow at Ashley and whispered, "They're at it again."
Ashley smirked. "I give it a few weeks before one of them cracks."
Meanwhile, Audrey turned back to Xavier, arms crossed. "You're insufferable, you know that?"
"And yet, you tolerate me."
Audrey let out an exaggerated sigh, but the hint of a smile betrayed her. "Unfortunately."
Ariel wasn't sure when exactly her feet had started moving, only that they wouldn't stop.
The whisper had echoed in her mind all day, curling around her thoughts like smoke, slipping through cracks she hadn't realized were there.
"Hazel... come to me."
It was a whisper and a command, distant yet impossibly close, like a voice carried by the wind. She had ignored it at first, shaking off the strange pull with logic. It was nothing. Just exhaustion. A dream lingering too long in her mind.
But as the evening deepened and the halls of the school emptied, the pull became unbearable. It wasn't just a thought—it was a weight in her chest, an itch in her bones.
So she walked.
Her steps were slow at first, hesitant, but the closer she got to the woods, the lighter her body felt, as if she were being guided. The trees loomed ahead, their dark silhouettes jagged against the deep blue sky. The wind whispered through the branches, a chorus of hushed voices that almost sounded like... calling.
By the time she reached the entrance to the forest, the school grounds felt like a world away. The air changed here, thick and damp, filled with the earthy scent of moss and old wood. The temperature dropped, a chill wrapping around her arms, but she barely noticed.
She should have been afraid.
The rational part of her mind screamed to turn back. That nothing about this was normal. That she wasn't safe.
But something deeper—something older—kept her moving.
She stepped past the first line of trees, their twisting branches stretching overhead like skeletal hands. The light is dimmed, swallowed by the dense canopy. The soft crunch of leaves beneath her shoes was the only sound aside from her own breathing.
The further she walked, the quieter the world became.
Then—the air shifted.
The silence wasn't empty anymore.
She wasn't alone.
Something moved between the trees. Not footsteps, but... a shifting. A distortion of space.
A shadow where there shouldn't be one.
The pull that had guided her here suddenly felt suffocating, like unseen fingers pressing against her throat.
And that's when she knew—she had gone too far.
A gust of wind, colder than before, brushed against her cheek. The whispering stopped. The woods had swallowed the world whole.
Then, just as her breath hitched in her throat, something lunged. A flash of movement—too fast, too unnatural. Ariel gasped, stumbling backward, heart hammering against her ribs. But before she could even react, another force crashed into her, sending her to the ground.
A heavy weight pinned her down, firm but steady. A hand gripped her wrist. When she looked up, she didn't see a monster.
She saw Allan.
His golden-brown eyes were sharp, scanning the darkness with a look of pure focus. He was tense, every muscle coiled like a predator ready to strike. His breathing was steady, controlled.
"What the hell are you doing here?" His voice was low, urgent.
Ariel struggled beneath him, still dazed. "I—" she stopped. What could she even say? That a voice led her here? That she had felt something calling her? It sounded insane even in her own head.
Allan's grip tightened for a moment before he let go, pulling himself up. He offered a hand, but she ignored it, pushing herself up stubbornly.
"You shouldn't be here," he said again, this time softer. His eyes flickered to the trees behind her, as if expecting something to emerge.
Ariel folded her arms. "Neither should you."
He scoffed, running a hand through his messy dark hair. "You don't get it, do you? This place—it's not safe. You shouldn't be wandering here alone."
"Then what about you?" she shot back. "You act like you know something I don't."
Allan hesitated. The weight of unspoken words hung between them.
And then, just as she thought he might say something, his expression hardened. "Stay out of places you don't belong, Ariel."
Something about the way he said it, the finality in his tone, made her fists clench. "Oh, so now you're my babysitter?"
"If it keeps you from getting killed, then yeah."
A hot surge of irritation flared in her chest. "I don't need you to protect me."
Allan sighed, looking at her like she was impossible. "You have no idea what you're messing with."
And that was it. The last straw. Ariel turned on her heel, ignoring the way her heart pounded from both fear and frustration. "Screw you, Allan."
She walked away, back towards the school, refusing to let him see her shiver.
But even as she left, she could still feel his eyes on her. Watching. Waiting.
Like he knew something she didn't.
Like this wasn't over.
.......
Ariel had always stood out—not just because of the way she carried herself, but because of the way she looked. Her hair was long, cascading past her waist in soft, silver waves that shimmered under the light, as if spun from moonlight itself. It wasn't just silver—it held faint undertones of cool platinum and soft lilac, giving it an ethereal glow. The strands moved like silk, catching the faintest glimmers of sunlight and reflecting them like a halo around her.
Her eyes were a striking shade of hazel, rich with flecks of gold and green that seemed to shift depending on the light. They were sharp yet soft, holding both warmth and a guarded mystery, as if they held stories untold. Her gaze was captivating—piercing when she was annoyed, but deep and unreadable when lost in thought.
Her features were delicate but strong. High cheekbones framed her face, her skin smooth and sun-kissed with a natural glow. Her lips, full and slightly parted, had a natural pink hue, making her look effortlessly alluring. There was something almost otherworldly about her beauty, something untouched by time—like she belonged to a world different from the one she walked in.
Despite this, there was no arrogance in the way she held herself. She was confident, yes, but in a quiet, unshaken way, as if she didn't need validation. Ariel's beauty was undeniable, but it was the mystery that surrounded her—the contrast between her striking looks and the unspoken secrets in her eyes—that made her unforgettable.
Allan
Allan possessed a presence that demanded attention without him ever trying. His features were sharp and well-defined—high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and a slightly furrowed brow that made him seem permanently lost in thought. His eyes, a deep and stormy shade of gray, carried an intensity that could be unnerving, as if he saw right through people. They were piercing yet distant, reflecting the cold, calculating nature he had built over the years.
His hair was dark, nearly black, falling in soft waves over his forehead, occasionally brushing against his sharp brows. He never styled it with much effort, but it always seemed effortlessly perfect, slightly tousled as if he had just run his fingers through it. His skin was pale but not sickly—smooth, with an undertone of cool ivory that only made his dark features stand out more.
Allan had a lean but strong build, the kind that suggested quiet strength rather than brute force. He moved with a natural grace, calculated and deliberate, like someone who always knew where he was going. His aura was cold yet magnetic, drawing people in despite the invisible walls he had built around himself.
There was an undeniable allure to him—not just because of his looks, but because of the mystery he carried. He rarely spoke more than necessary, and when he did, his words were sharp, sometimes cutting, but always intelligent. People either feared or admired him, but few ever truly knew him.
Eleanor
Eleanor was breathtaking in a way that felt almost unnatural. Every movement she made was graceful, almost like she was gliding rather than walking. Her presence was commanding, not in an aggressive way, but in the way people instinctively turned to look when she entered a room.
Her beauty was sharp and refined—high cheekbones, a delicate nose, and lips that naturally curved into something between a smirk and a secret. Her eyes were a striking, pale blue—almost silver—framed by thick, dark lashes. They had an uncanny way of drawing people in, as if holding a secret she would never tell.
Her hair was a rich golden blonde, cascading in smooth waves down her back, shining like silk under the light. It framed her face perfectly, adding to the ethereal quality she carried. No strand was ever out of place, as if she was untouched by the chaos of the world.
Eleanor's fashion sense only amplified her aura—always elegant, always effortless. She had a preference for tailored outfits that hugged her form in just the right way, showcasing wealth without being gaudy. She never seemed rushed, never seemed flustered. Everything about her was calculated yet natural, like she was simply born to be admired.
Yet, beneath the poised perfection was something unreadable. An air of mischief, perhaps? A knowing look in her eyes that suggested she was always a few steps ahead? There was something otherworldly about her, something almost too perfect to be human.