1. Meeting him

Chapter One

I couldn't sleep.

No matter how many times I rolled over, tangled in my bedsheets, the restlessness wouldn’t let up.

Something gnawed at my chest, something I couldn’t name. But maybe it had something to do with the fact that we were leaving.

Leaving their town our town for a place called Frost Town. Secluded. Quiet. Strange. And cold, not just in climate, but in name too.

I stared at the ceiling, tracing patterns with my eyes, wondering if any part of me would miss this place.

It all started a few days ago… with a dream.

Not the kind you forget by morning. Not the kind you can shake off with coffee or a hot shower. This dream burrowed deep, coiling around my ribs and whispering things that made my blood run cold.

In it, there were voices. Not one, but many

echoing, layered, impossible to ignore. They didn’t call my name. They summoned me.

"Return to where you belong… to where your blood calls home."

I told my mother the next day, thinking she’d laugh it off. But instead, her face paled. Her lips parted slightly like she wanted to deny it..... but couldn’t.

That’s when everything changed.

And now, here I was, on the brink of leaving the only life I’d ever known. My eyes snapped open and I signed in big relief, it was still a dream.

With a sigh, I dragged myself out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom. The mirror didn’t lie.... my long brunette hair clung to my face, tangled from all the tossing. My blue eyes were dull and tired, rimmed with shadows. I barely recognized the girl staring back at me.

I turned on the shower and let the warm water wash over me, hoping it would rinse away the unease. It didn’t.

Back in my room, I stood before my wardrobe, hesitating before pulling out my usual go-to outfit, white shirt, denim jeans, suede jacket, and black boots. Simple. Practical. Something to make me feel normal, even when nothing was.

Once dressed, I let out a slow breath, as if bracing myself for the day.

“Just get through today,” I muttered to myself.

Downstairs, the scent of toast and eggs greeted me. My mother, Dorcas Walter stood in the kitchen, a soft smile on her face as she turned off the stove. No matter how shaken she was on the inside, she always tried to act like everything was fine. I respected that. Pretending was a kind of strength too.

“Good morning,” I greeted as cheerfully as I could.

“Good morning, Ivy,” she replied, placing a plate in front of me. Her eyes lingered on me for a moment, but she said nothing about the dream or the move. Not yet.

I ate quickly, kissed her cheek, and grabbed my bag. I didn’t want to miss the bus not because I liked school, but because I didn’t want to give myself time to overthink.

~~~

The bus ride to school was quiet. Thirty minutes of silence, broken only by the occasional screech of brakes and the rustle of backpacks. When we finally pulled up in front of the building, I climbed out, adjusted my jacket, and walked toward the main entrance like a girl trying to look invisible.

But someone saw me anyway.

“Good morning, Ivory!”

I turned and smiled. Alicia. My best friend. Possibly my only friend.

“Hey, Alicia,” I replied.

“How was your night?”

I hesitated. “Restless. You?”

She shrugged. “Same. I had this weird dream about... I don't even know. Anyway, let’s get to class before Mr. Henshaw starts breathing fire.”

I chuckled softly. That was the thing about Alicia she always knew when to switch the subject, always knew when I needed to laugh.

We walked into the building together, our boots squeaking against the polished floor. As usual, I made a beeline for the back of the class. I didn’t like attention. Not when you were the girl everyone seemed to have an opinion about. I’d learned that keeping quiet meant fewer wounds to hide.

I sank into my usual seat, pulled out my notebook, and tried to focus. The lecturer was talking something about ancient civilizations but the words blurred in my ears. Then... everything changed.

He walked in.

A boy. Tall. Effortlessly confident. Like he owned the room without even trying. His hair was black as midnight, his eyes startling green so green they glowed under the light, like polished emeralds. The air shifted around him. People stared. Whispers started.

He didn’t look at anyone.

Except me.

He walked straight to the back… and sat behind me.

I froze.

My heart drummed in my chest. Why here? Of all the empty seats? I felt his presence like a shadow at my back. My hands shook slightly as I tried to take notes, but I couldn’t focus not when I could practically feel his eyes boring into the back of my head.

~~~

Daniel’s POV

They stared at me like they always do. Like I was something shiny they couldn’t look away from.

But I wasn’t looking at them.

She caught my attention the moment I walked in. The girl with straight brunette hair and blue eyes like a cloudless sky. She sat at the back of the class like she wanted to disappear. Too bad I had a thing for mysteries.

So I sat behind her.

She tensed. I noticed that.

I didn’t say a word all through the class. Just watched her. Not in a creepy way—I think—but enough to make her uncomfortable. And I liked that. That edge of unpredictability.

When the class ended, she stood up so fast her chair scraped the floor. She grabbed her bag like it was a lifeline and bolted.

Really?

I blinked, then smirked. “You’re not getting away that easily.”

Ivory’s POV

I ran. I didn’t even know why. Something about the way he looked at me set off alarm bells. He wasn’t just another popular guy trying to play a game. There was something... off.

I turned a corner and ran straight into him.

How did he catch up so fast?

He was panting slightly, hair tousled from the chase. “Wow,” he said. “You’re fast. Maybe I need to start running again.”

I backed up, confused and wary. “What do you want?”

He tilted his head, studying me. His eyes softened, just a little. “You always run from people trying to talk to you?”

I didn’t answer.

He stepped closer. Not enough to scare me—but close enough for me to feel the shift in the air. “Daniel Connor,” he said, extending his hand like we weren’t standing in a hallway, like this was some polite tea party.

“Ivory Walter,” I replied, barely above a whisper.

He smiled, not the friendly kind, but something sharper. “Ivory,” he repeated, like testing the name on his tongue. “Fitting.”

Then, without warning, he lifted my chin with two fingers. I stiffened.

“Next time,” he said softly, “don’t run out like a hog. It’s not a good look, kitten.”

I blinked, stunned.

He leaned in, so close his breath brushed my ear. “See you soon, kitten.”

Then he was gone.

And I was left standing there, heart pounding, wondering why that didn’t feel like a threat... why it felt like the beginning of something far more dangerous.