The package
---
Cara approached the group in a stunning blue gown, her hair loosely curled and lips glossed just enough to shimmer under the soft lights of the hallway. She walked with confidence, but her eyes were locked on one person—Ian.
"Hey, boys," she said casually, trying to sound breezy as she stood before them. "You all look... decent."
Owen gave a polite nod. "You clean up nice too, Cara."
Ken smiled. "Blue's your color."
"Thanks," she said with a playful flutter of her lashes, but her gaze never left Ian, who simply smirked at her and gave a lazy, "Hey."
She tried to spark conversation, grasping at topics. "So, are you guys excited for the gala? It's kind of the event of the term."
"Guess so," Ken answered.
"I heard the décor's crazy elegant," Owen added.
Cara leaned in slightly toward Ian. "Any idea who you're going with yet?"
Before Ian could reply—whether he would or not—Allan's voice cut through the moment.
"Hey, guys. You ready to go?"
Cara bit back a sigh, visibly deflated. Her moment had slipped away again. Still, she gave Ian a glance. "Hey, dude, what's up with her?"
Ian raised a brow. "Her?"
"Ariel," she clarified with a subtle sneer, "Wait... were you with her? So I heard right."
Before Ian could reply, Owen jumped in, amused. "How'd you know?"
"I've got ways," Cara said smoothly, flicking her hair behind her shoulder and smirking as if she knew a secret no one else did.
Allan's voice came again, firm this time. "Guys. Let's go."
The conversation ended there, but not without Cara shooting Ian a final glance—as if daring him to watch her walk away.
---
After a competitive game on Ian's backyard court, the fading sun painted the sky in shades of amber and lilac. The rhythmic bounce of the basketball slowed as Ken missed a final shot and collapsed on the grass, groaning.
"Game over," Owen called, flexing like he just won a championship. "I carried this team."
"In your dreams," Ian scoffed, wiping sweat from his brow with the edge of his shirt.
Allan didn't say much. He never did after a game—he just quietly observed, his breathing steady, not a single hair out of place despite the match. He leaned against the fence, eyes narrowed toward the horizon like his thoughts were far ahead of them all.
After grabbing bottles of water and freshening up, Owen and Ken took their leave, still bickering over the score. That left Allan and Ian alone in Ian's room. The scent of pinewood and sports deodorant filled the air, and outside, wind rustled the trees.
Ian sat cross-legged on his bed, flipping through a comic book, while Allan leaned on the windowsill, his face half-lit by the golden hour glow.
"Where's Nari?" Allan asked, barely glancing over.
"Karate class. Don't worry, she'll be back to annoy you soon enough," Ian chuckled.
"I'd knock if she wasn't your sister."
"Yeah, and I'd let you," Ian teased, then paused. "But enough of Nari. Let's talk about you."
Allan arched a brow, skeptical. "What about me?"
"Ariel," Ian said, tossing the comic aside. "You asked her to the gala."
Allan didn't speak for a moment. He kept his gaze outside, watching a crow glide past the trees before finally saying, "Yeah, I did."
Ian sat up straighter. "You. Allan Wallace. Asked someone to a public event. Voluntarily."
Allan finally turned, the corner of his mouth twitching. "It's not that big a deal."
"It is when it's you doing the asking. Especially her," Ian emphasized. "She's... different. Quiet. Mysterious. Kinda like you, but softer."
"I know."
Ian narrowed his eyes. "So why'd you do it?"
Allan hesitated, then slowly walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. His voice dropped low. "That night in the woods—I didn't know where I was going. I was supposed to be asleep. But something pulled me out. Like a tether."
Ian's teasing expression softened. "A vision?"
"No," Allan said. "Worse. A feeling. I felt her fear. Like it hit my chest. Like a wave."
There was a silence that stretched between them.
"She was alone. Terrified. Something was coming," Allan continued. "But when I got there… it stopped. And then she looked at me like she didn't know if I was real."
Ian's brows furrowed. "You've had visions since?"
Allan nodded. "Not just visions. Nightmares. Symbols. Shadowed voices. Whispers I can't trace. But the second I'm near her, they quiet down. Just a little. Like she balances something inside me."
"Damn," Ian muttered. "That's heavy."
"It's more than heavy," Allan replied. "It's dangerous. And I need to know what it means."
"You think she's the key?"
"I don't know if she is, or if she's just caught up in whatever this is. But I need to find out."
Ian gave a nod of understanding. "And the gala?"
"A chance," Allan said simply. "To watch her in a place where things feel normal. To see what happens when she's not afraid."
Ian smirked, unable to resist. "You like her."
Allan didn't deny it. He simply gave a half-smile and stood up.
"I don't trust easily, Ian. You know that."
Ian nodded. "I also know that you don't follow girls into the woods unless something big is happening."
"Exactly."
Ian leaned back against the headboard, arms folded. "What's up with your cozy sister lately? She's been acting… I don't know, off."
Allan gave him a look. "What do you mean by cozy?"
"You know what I mean," Ian said, shrugging. "Cara. She's usually annoying in an oddly charming way, but lately, she's more… clingy? And way too interested in our conversations."
Allan gave a low, amused exhale, tilting his head. "What do you think is going on?"
Ian rolled his eyes. "Don't throw my question back at me, man. You live with her. I just survive her at school."
"She's probably just excited about the gala," Allan said, though his voice lacked certainty. "You know how she gets when there's a chance to wear a dress and be dramatic."
Ian raised a brow. "You sure it's the gala? Or is it maybe someone going to the gala?"
Allan gave him a side glance. "You?"
"I mean… she's been hovering," Ian said, half-laughing. "Earlier today she tried to start a convo with me and the guys. You and Owen kept silent. Ken gave her two words. I think she was fishing for attention."
"And?"
"And I wasn't giving her any."
Allan smirked. "She's gonna hate that."
"She already does." Ian leaned forward, grabbing his water bottle. "But for real, do you think she's crushing?"
Allan gave a slow shrug. "It's Cara. She could be crushing or plotting global domination. Hard to tell the difference."
Ian laughed. "That sounds accurate."
There was a short pause before Allan added, "If she does like you though, don't be a jerk about it."
Ian scoffed. "Since when am I a jerk?"
"You want the list alphabetically or chronologically?" Allan replied dryly.
Ian threw a pillow at him, grinning. "Shut up, man."
Allan caught the pillow mid-air, his smile faint but real. "Just… don't play with her, Ian. She acts tough, but she's got her own demons."
"I hear you," Ian said sincerely. "No games."
---
"Allan Wallace, where are you coming from?" Cara's voice cut through the air the moment Allan stepped into the hallway.
He didn't flinch. "You need to stop using your invisible powers to follow me around."
"Don't change the topic," she shot back, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall. "You went to see Ian, didn't you? You were at his place."
Allan raised an eyebrow, amused. "And how would you know that?"
"I have my ways," she said with a smug smile. "What's his room like? Did you guys talk about me?"
"If you were that curious, you could've just teleported there yourself," Allan said, brushing past her with a faint smirk. "You seem to enjoy pushing boundaries."
"I tried," Cara said, trailing behind him. "But what kind of magic spell did you cast on your room? I couldn't even get in through teleportation."
Allan let out a low laugh. "You already know—my power doesn't exactly follow the usual rules."
Cara rolled her eyes dramatically. "Right. Mr. No-Boundaries. How convenient."
He turned to look at her, one brow raised. "You still didn't answer the real question—why were you trying to sneak into my room?"
"I wasn't sneaking, I was inspecting," she replied, lifting her chin proudly. "Big difference."
"Mhm."
She walked beside him now, casually changing the subject, as she always did when she didn't want to lose an argument. "So… Ariel."
Allan gave her a sideways glance, already sensing the mischief. "What about her?"
Cara grinned. "You've been acting weird since that night. Don't think I haven't noticed."
"I'm always weird," he replied flatly.
"Maybe. But now you're mysteriously brooding. That's new." Cara tapped her chin. "She's interesting, isn't she?"
Allan said nothing, his silence saying everything.
Cara's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "She's not like the others… there's something about her. And you're drawn to it."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to."
He sighed, walking ahead. "Go find Ian. Annoy him instead."
"I will," she called after him with a teasing tone. "But only because I know talking about Ariel gets under your skin."
Allan paused at his door. "Cara."
"Yes?"
"Stay out of my head."
"No promises, cousin."
*********
Meanwhile, across town, Ariel sat on the windowsill of her shared bedroom with Missy, the cool breeze lifting strands of her silver hair as she stared out, lost in thought.
Missy, lounging on the bed with a fashion magazine in hand, noticed her sister's silence. "You've been zoning out all evening," she said, flicking through the glossy pages. "That not-so-little brain of yours is cooking up something again, isn't it?"
Ariel blinked, slowly turning around. "It's nothing."
Missy arched a brow. "Please. You always say that right before doing something dramatic."
"I don't do dramatic "
Missy gave her a look. "Says the girl with silver hair and a staring problem."
That drew a small smile from Ariel. "It's just school stuff… people stuff."
Missy set the magazine down. "Let me guess. Someone annoyed you. Or someone saved you and now you can't stop thinking about them."
Ariel's head snapped around. "I—what? No. Who said anything about saving?"
"Oh-ho!" Missy sat up, eyes gleaming. "So someone did save you?"
Ariel looked flustered for a second, then waved her off. "You're impossible."
Missy grinned, clearly enjoying this. "Okay, so it's a guy. Definitely a guy. And definitely not just any guy. A hot guy."
Ariel groaned and flopped onto the bed. "You're literally insane."
"I'm observant," Missy corrected. She laid beside her sister and propped her head up with one hand. "Look, I won't push. But if there's someone giving you that much space in your thoughts, maybe it's worth figuring out why."
There was a beat of silence before Ariel whispered, "He's… different."
Missy softened. "Then maybe different is what you need."
The sisters lay there for a moment, the silence between them comfortable.
Then Missy chuckled. "I still can't believe you're the only silverhead in the family. It's like the universe knew you were going to be extra."
Ariel shoved her playfully. "Says the drama queen."
Missy grinned, flipping her hair. "Runs in the blood, darling."
Missy smirked at the sudden switch in topic. "Ugh, don't remind me," she groaned, grabbing a pillow and hugging it dramatically. "Mr. Lambert is the human version of a cracked vinyl—repeating the same nonsense every day like we didn't hear it the first ten times."
Ariel laughed, tucking her knees to her chest. "Is he still calling you 'Michelle' on purpose?"
Missy rolled her eyes. "Every. Single. Day. I even put a sticky note on his desk with Missy in bold caps. He looked me dead in the eye and said, 'Michelle, can you fetch me that file?' I swear, one more time and I'm filing a complaint with HR—or hexing him, whichever comes faster."
Ariel chuckled, relaxing against the headboard. "Maybe he has a crush on you and doesn't know how to show it."
"If that's how he flirts, he needs help. Urgent help," Missy said, then paused, squinting at her sister. "Wait… why are you so interested in my annoying love life tonight?"
Ariel shrugged, eyes twinkling. "It's more entertaining than thinking about my own."
Missy smirked, not letting it go. "Mmm. So you do have someone to think about."
Ariel rolled her eyes and turned away, hiding the light blush on her cheeks. "Goodnight, Missy."
"Oh no, you're not getting away that easily—spill it!"
But Ariel just pulled the blanket over her head, muffling her voice. "Not tonight."
Missy laughed. "Fine, fine. But tomorrow I want all the details, Miss 'Nothing's Going On.'"
And with that, the room faded into quiet, the only sound being the night breeze fluttering against the curtains—carrying with it a faint, whispering call only Ariel could hear, soft and echoing like a memory:
Daylight…
---
The doorbell rang just as the morning sun warmed the front steps. Ariel, still in her oversized hoodie and socks, opened the door cautiously. Standing before her was a tall man dressed entirely in black—black suit, black gloves, black sunglasses. He looked like he belonged to a presidential security team. He said nothing at first, only holding out a rectangular, matte-black box.
"From Allan Wallace," he said in a tone so smooth it felt rehearsed. Then, without another word, he turned and left, disappearing down the driveway like he had never been there.
Ariel stood frozen at the doorway.
Missy appeared behind her, towel wrapped around her hair. "Who was that? And why do you look like you've seen a ghost?"
Xeveir popped his head out from the kitchen. "Was that one of those Men in Black dudes? Do we open it or call the FBI?"
Ignoring both of them, Ariel carried the box into the living room and placed it gently on the table. The three of them hovered around it. Her heart thudded in her chest.
With a breath, she opened it.
Inside was a deep blue gown—so dark it was almost black. The fabric glimmered softly under the lights, like woven moonlight. Elegant embroidery curled around the neckline and down the bodice, designed with symbols that looked old, almost ancient. It was beautiful. Breathtaking.
Underneath the gown were a pair of silver heels, sleek and delicate, and beside them lay a velvet box. Ariel lifted the lid of the smaller box, revealing a shimmering necklace with a silver pendant shaped like the mysterious symbol she'd seen before—a crescent moon entangled with wings and a serpent. But again, there was a part of the symbol missing. A carved gap like a piece of a puzzle not yet found.
There was also an envelope—no letter, no message. Just her name written in simple cursive: Ariel.
"Okay…" Xeveir breathed out. "So are we gonna pretend this isn't the most dramatic thing that's ever happened in this house?"
Missy stared at the items. "That dress looks like it costs more than our rent."
Ariel said nothing. She traced her finger across the embroidery, her mind swimming with questions.
Why Allan?
Why her?
How did he know her size?
And more importantly… what did this mean?
Because this wasn't just a gift.
It was a message.
And Ariel wasn't sure she was ready to understand it.