She who sees

The town had begun to glow.

Strings of golden lights curled around lampposts, shop windows glittered with painted snowflakes and tinsel, and the air carried the mingles scents of roasted chestnuts and spiced cider from the Christmas market that had sprung up in the square. Against the pale wash of winter skies, the colour and sound seemed almost unreal, as though the whole town were trying to ward off the darkness with cheer.

Aisha walked slowly along the cobblestones beside Nathan, her breath fogging the air. The pendant pulsed faintly under her coat, its rhythm quickening whenever she drew closer to the market stalls. She wondered if anyone else could feel it, if the cheer around them was just a mask covering something heavier that pressed against the town like a second skin.

"You're quiet," Nathan said softly, hands tucked deep into his pockets. His eyes kept flicking sideways to her, watching.

"I'm just...tired," she lied.

But Nathan didn't look convinced. He stopped walking, waiting until she turned back to him. "I saw it," he said, his voice low, almost lost beneath laughter and music from the square. "When you gave your presentation. The pendant—it was glowing. No one else noticed, but... I did."

Her chest tightened. A dozen excuses tangled on her tongue, but none felt strong enough. Nathan wasn't going to let this go. His gaze wasn't accusing, only steady, like he'd been waiting for her to finally trust him.

"You don't have to tell me everything right now," he continued, "but please stop shutting me out, Aisha. If something's happening...I want to be there."

The weight of his words pressed harder than the pendant's pulse. She opened her mouth, but a flicker of movement at the edge of her vision caught her. Across the square, just beyond the rows of stalls and the glow of fairy lights, a pale entity lingered between two snow-dusted trees. Ruby

Her friend's face was washed of colour, almost translucent in the glow. She wasn't smiling, wasn't calling out—just watching, eyes wide and haunted. Aisha felt the pull of her gaze like a thread tugging at her chest.

Ruby lifted her arm in the direction of the Pendant under Aisha's coat. The gesture was sharp, almost desperate, and Aisha's stomach flipped.

When she blinked, Ruby was gone. The laughter of children chasing each other through the square seemed louder now, too loud, as if the world was trying to drown out what she had seen.

"Aisha?" Nathan asked, his brow furrowed.

She forced a smile, shaking her head. "Nothing. Just thought I saw someone."

But inside, she knew. Ruby was trying to tell her something—something urgent.

They reached the square, weaving through the crowd. Stalls spilled over with mulled wine, gingerbread, and hand-carved trinkets. A choir's voices rose above the bustle, singing a carol that made Aisha's chest ache with something she couldn't name. The warmth of the scene pressed around her, but it didn't reach inside.

Near the fountain at the centre of the square, she stopped. Frost had crept up its stone edges, forming intricate patterns—spirals, loops, intersecting lines. Symbols. The same ones she had traced in her notebook. They gleamed faintly in the fairy light glow, shimmering just enough that she knew she wasn't imagining them.

The pendant pulsed once, hard, like a warning—or a call.

Before she could lean closer, a voice cut through the crowd.

"Well, it it isn't the star of history class."

Aisha turned to see Tom stepping from the shadows of a nearby alley. His smile was easy, almost careless, but in his eyes gleamed with something sharper. He looked out of place among the festivity, his dark coat catching no sparkle from the lights around them.

"Impressive presentation," he said smoothly. "You really dug into the Sadon family. Dangerous stuff, if you ask me."

There was something in his tone that made her throat tighten. Nathan stepped subtly closer, his jaw set.

"What do you mean, dangerous?" Nathan asked.

Tom's smile widened. "Just that sometimes, history doesn't like being dragged back into the light. Some doors, once opened, are hard to shut again." His gaze flicked briefly to Aisha's coat, where the pendant pulsed hidden beneath the fabric.

For a moment, Aisha couldn't breath. Did Tom know? Had he been watching her, just like Ruby?

Before she could answer, a burst of laughter erupted from a group of students carrying hot chocolate, and Tom melted back into the shadows as if he'd never been there.

The frost symbols on the fountain glowed faintly one last time before fading, leaving only ice in their place.

Aisha's heart pounded. Christmas lights twinkled, music soared, and the scent of roasted sugar filled the air—but she couldn't shake the feeling that the season's brightness was just a fragile curtain, hiding something vast and dark pressing closer.

And now, both Ruby and Tom had made it clear.

The time for choosing was coming.