Marked by the last white heir

"I shouldn't have come." The thought hit Alya Devon the second the bass slammed into her ribs. Masks hid every face in the Autumn Masquerade, but none hid the feeling that something ancient and hungry watched from the shadows, especially the tall stranger with storm-gray eyes who hadn't looked away since she arrived. His mask was simple, black, almost blending into the shadows, but his presence didn’t. His lips pursed, and his eyes hadn't let go of her ever since she stepped in. The music thumped through the dorm hallways, a bass-heavy rhythm that made her chest vibrate. Alya Devon gripped her purse like a lifeline, wishing she could melt into the shadows. She’d been dragged here by Mira, whose energy was practically glowing under the flickering party lights. “Come on, Alya! Just one hour. Don’t be a hermit for just 60 seconds,” Mira had said, dragging her toward the crowded lounge. Alya’s heart had protested violently, but she let herself be swept along. The room smelled of perfume, ribbons, loud voices, alcohol, spilled drinks, punch, and way too much dancing, and the faint tang of smoke. Masks glimmered under the chandeliers, some delicate, some wild, all hiding more than faces. For a moment, she wished she were back in the library, surrounded by books instead of bodies. A group of students passed by, spilling drinks and shouting. Alya adjusted her simple Cat-eyed black mask, hoping to go unnoticed. Her black lace gown brushed against her knees as she walked. She drifted along the edge of the crowd. People laughed, shouted, danced, so loud that her ears rang. The music pulsed, flashing lights made it hard to focus, and Alya stumbled slightly. Mira grabbed her arm. “Relax! Have fun!” Alya forced a smile, her nerves buzzing. The breeze whispered in her ears and sent shivers down her spine, raising goosebumps. Every now and then, she heard a faint sound,like a low, distant whisper, but it could have been the music, the wind, anything. Just imagination… she told herself. Later, near the edge of the balcony, she tried to get some fresh air. The warm breeze brushed against her skin. “Hey nerd, how do you like the party?" " Too bad there are no books here” Alya turned. Tara Voss stood there, all glossy hair and sharp smile, flanked by her usual entourage, her fox eyed mask not helping her mean look. Tara was everything Alya wasn't, popular, confident, and never afraid to remind everyone of it. “You don't need to be rude Tara, the party is great." Two other guys joined her, one held her waist. She giggled. “Ugh, don't be naughty Dave…” Alya’s cheeks flushed. She turned away quickly, the familiar sting of disappointment settling in. Of course Dave would choose someone like Tara. Who would want the quiet girl who spent her nights buried in books? Her eyes caught them slipping toward a side door, probably the janitor’s closet. It didn't matter. Crushes like that were pointless anyway. From the corner of the balcony, Alya caught movement again. The stranger. Her skin prickled as a chill traced her spine. She wanted to look away, to escape the sensation, but curiosity anchored her feet. The moment stretched. He didn’t approach her; He just kept a straight face as he walked towards the bartender to get a drink. Her eyes followed his movements swiftly as she caught the sight of him as he ran his fingers across his black hair, a dark commanding figure against the party lights. The party rolled on. Students danced wildly, and shouted into one another’s ears. She moved through it like a ghost, trying her best not to be squashed by sweaty bodies, her fingers caressing the oval crystal on her purse. Mira followed behind her till they got to a quieter side of the lounge, where the music was muffled but laughter still echoed. “This is insane, isn’t it?” Mira said, practically bouncing with energy. “Yeah… insane,” Alya muttered, scanning the room. She noticed the way shadows seemed to shift unnaturally, flickering in corners that should have been empty. The air grew heavier as the night deepened, the warmth of the party seeming to retreat into the walls. A faint, almost imperceptible howl echoed from outside, carried by the wind. The hairs on her arms stood up. Her heart beat harder and harder with each passing second. Something primal stirred in the distance, and though she didn’t understand it, she knew it would matter. “What are you staring at, you just zoned out?” Mira asked, following Alya’s gaze. Alya hesitated. “There… that guy over there. The one by the balcony.” Mira’s eyes flicked over. “Oh, him? Haven’t seen him before. Transfer, maybe? Some new student.” “Yeah… that’s the thing,” Alya muttered. “I’ve been here a while. I know almost everyone. But I… I don’t know him. And I can’t stop looking at him.” Mira laughed lightly, looping an arm through Alya’s. “Ooooh, he caught your attention, huh, you should go talk to him?” Alya sighed, twisting her purse strap in her hands. “It’s not like that… I don’t even know him. It’s just, he's odd or something… saw him staring at me a while ago.” “Stalker?” Mira pressed, curious. Alya shook her head, unsure how to explain. “No, not that, I can’t… explain it. But I feel like he’s…I dunno girl.” Mira tilted her head, eyes narrowing in amusement. “Oh please. It’s a party. People stare at each other all the time. Chill. I'm gonna grab a punch.” But Alya couldn’t shake the feeling. There was something about him that felt… out of place, yet somehow intentional, as if he was aware of every person in the room. “Maybe,” Alya admitted softly, “but it’s… weird. I don’t know if I like it or hate it.” Mira giggled, giving her a playful nudge. “Well, if he’s a transfer, maybe he’s just new and shy. Or maybe… he’s mysterious and thinks he’s too cool for everyone else.” Alya laughed quietly, though the unease lingered. She glanced back toward the balcony one last time. The stranger was still there, watching. His black hair fell slightly into his eyes, the simple black wolf eyed mask giving him an air of secrecy. His stern face hadn't shifted a bit, nor did his lips utter a word, yet his impression left a strange aura, a shadowy ripple in the energy of the room that made Alya shake in fear . And this time, when their eyes met through the masks, he didn’t look away. The lights flickered as he walked towards her. A low, unearthly whisper slithered through the air, brushing past her ear like cold fingers: “Alya…” The sound wasn’t carried by the wind. It wasn’t part of the music. It came from him. Her face drained of color. She took one involuntary step backward, then the balcony lights flickered, and every shadow in th e room stretched toward her at once. When the lights steadied, the stranger had vanished.