The rain fell softly over the sleepy town of Blackridge, tapping on rooftops like the sound of distant footsteps. Streetlights flickered as if hesitant to stay awake, casting dim golden halos across the empty sidewalks. Somewhere between the shadows and silence, Evelyn Rayne stepped off the bus, her boots splashing lightly in a puddle.
She clutched her suitcase tighter. This town wasn't home. It was just another stop. Another place to disappear.
Evelyn glanced at the map in her hand, crumpled and slightly torn at the edges. "Willow Lane... six blocks east," she muttered. She tucked the paper back into her coat pocket and started walking, ignoring the chill biting through her sleeves.
Her past clung to her like a ghost, whispering cruel things in the back of her mind. She had spent most of her life running from what happened that night—when the fire took everything. Her parents. Her childhood. And something she still couldn't explain.
People called it a freak accident. But Evelyn remembered eyes watching her in the dark. Red eyes.
Shaking off the thought, she arrived at her aunt's old house. A narrow, creaky place at the end of a lane, nearly swallowed by trees and ivy. It looked haunted, but to Evelyn, that felt fitting.
As she unlocked the door, the hinges groaned in protest. Inside, dust covered every surface, and the smell of old books and forgotten memories lingered in the air. She didn't bother turning on the light. The dark had never scared her.
Evelyn dropped her bag and wandered into the study. Books lined the shelves from floor to ceiling. She brushed her fingers across the spines, pausing on a thick, black leather-bound volume with no title.
She pulled it out, opened it—and blinked.
The pages were blank.
Suddenly, a whisper curled through the room. Not the wind. Not her imagination.
Real.
She froze.
"Who's there?" she called out, her voice steady.
Nothing.
Evelyn closed the book and returned it to the shelf. Her body tensed, but she forced herself to ignore the strange sensation crawling down her spine. She was tired. That was all.
Outside, the wind picked up, and the trees groaned. She stepped away from the shelf—and a cold gust rushed past her, flipping the pages of the book behind her in a furious blur. Her heart pounded.
Then silence.
"Great," she whispered, forcing a bitter smile. "First night, and already haunted."
The next morning came grey and wet. Evelyn made her way to Blackridge High, the local school where she'd been enrolled last-minute. It was smaller than she was used to, with peeling walls and whispers that traveled faster than light.
She hated the attention—new girl, strange house, weird vibe.
In history class, she sat in the back, eyes down. That's when she noticed him.
Lucien Virel.
Tall. Pale. Ridiculously perfect. Like someone carved from marble with a blade instead of a brush. Black eyes. Sharp jaw. And a look like he couldn't care less if the world burned.
The students whispered his name like it carried power.
"Don't even think about talking to him," said the girl beside her. "Lucien doesn't talk to anyone."
"I'm not here to make friends," Evelyn replied coolly.
But Lucien turned his head. For just a second, their eyes met—and Evelyn felt a jolt, sharp and cold, run through her chest.
His gaze was full of hatred. Or was it recognition?
The moment passed. He looked away.
She forced herself to breathe.
After school, Evelyn wandered into the woods behind her house. Something was calling her. Not with words, but with a feeling—like an itch in her bones.
She stepped deeper into the trees. The air grew colder. And then she saw him again.
Lucien.
Standing among the trees like he belonged to the forest.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, startled.
He didn't answer. Just stared at her like she was a mistake he couldn't undo.
"You following me or something?"
"You shouldn't be here," he said quietly, his voice low and smooth, like velvet with a blade hidden beneath.
"I live here. I go where I want."
His eyes narrowed. "Some things in this town are better left alone."
Evelyn crossed her arms. "Are you threatening me?"
"I'm warning you."
She stepped closer. "Why? Because the trees will bite? Or because you will?"
He stared at her for a long moment. Then he whispered, "You don't know who you are, do you?"
She blinked. "Excuse me?"
Lucien took a step back into the shadows. His eyes glowed faintly—no, it must have been the light playing tricks.
"Stay out of the woods, Evelyn," he said. "Before they remember you."
And then he was gone.
No footsteps. No sound. Just... gone.
Evelyn stood there, heart thundering. A part of her wanted to chase after him. Another part—the smarter part—wanted to forget he existed.
But deep down, she knew one thing for certain.
This wasn't just a town.
It was a trap.
And somehow, she was already caught in it.