I felt sick to my stomach, a deep, churning nausea that had nothing to do with the blood soaking the stone or the lingering sedative in my veins. We might lose this ridiculously handsome Ashriel before I ever even got the chance to touch his face, to memorize the sharp line of his jaw, or to understand why his quiet presence made the air feel heavier and lighter at the same time.
And no, it wasn't just because he was handsome, though gods, that didn't help at all, but because I couldn't bear the thought of watching another stranger die in my place.
Not for my freedom. Not for ropes that should never have been tied around me in the first place. I had already seen too much death today. My heart couldn't carry any more.
"Please don't do this," I begged, my voice cracking into something small and desperate. "You don't have to. Please."
Ashriel didn't answer.
He didn't even glance at me again.
And in that heavy silence, I became more certain of his death than I had been of anything else in my entire miserable life. I could already picture it: his body crumpling like the others, eyes going blank, that striking face drained of color. The thought twisted something sharp and painful behind my ribs.
I even found myself hoping, pathetic as it sounded… that the professor who had called his name earlier would step forward, shout again, do something, anything, to stop him. But the man didn't move. He only frowned, his brows drawing together tightly in a deep crease, as though he already knew exactly how this would end and had accepted it long ago.
Just like me, everyone else in the courtyard was waiting for Ashriel to die.
Not because we wanted him to, but because everyone before him had.
So we believed he would too.
Ashriel looked at me once more. His gaze was calm, unreadable, almost detached, as if he were studying a mildly interesting problem rather than staring at a girl drenched in someone else's blood. Then he turned away.
For one breathless moment, I thought that was it.
I thought he had accepted the truth, that he couldn't save me. And strangely, I wasn't angry. I wouldn't have blamed him. No one should have to die for me. Not after what I had already cost the world.
But then…
In a movement so fast I barely registered it, Ashriel reached up and removed the white glasses shielding his eyes. One fluid motion, one sharp blink, and they were gone, tucked into the pocket of his uniform with casual precision.
My breath caught in my throat.
Those glasses existed for a reason. To protect others. To protect everyone from whatever dangerous power lived behind his gaze.
Ashriel lifted his eyes and looked straight at Irene.
And suddenly, she stepped forward.
Not walking.
Not deciding.
But moving, like a puppet pulled by invisible strings, her body obeying an order her mind hadn't given.
"Untie her," Ashriel said calmly.
His voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. It carried the quiet weight of absolute certainty.
"You're not supposed to do that, Mr. Ashriel," Ysara snapped, finally breaking her composure. Her usual bright smile had vanished, replaced by sharp disapproval.
Ashriel didn't even look at her.
"No rule says we can't," he replied coolly, as if the matter were already settled.
Ysara's lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. She frowned, clearly searching for a counterargument and finding none.
And he was right.
No rule had ever stated that the professors themselves weren't allowed to intervene.
All I could manage was a breathless, stunned whisper that slipped out before I could stop it.
"Wow."
It was known throughout our world that werewolves were among the gifted… stronger, faster, more powerful than most other beings. Stronger than ordinary humans, many witches, and even some vampires in raw physical might. And Irene… Irene was a pure vampire, one of the ancient bloodlines that thrived on control and dominance.
Because she stopped a short distance in front of me, raised her hand with mechanical precision, and snapped her fingers once.
The blood-drinking rope, the same cursed restraint that had killed two students without mercy and nearly claimed a third, shuddered violently. It writhed like a living thing, fighting against an invisible force far greater than itself. Then, with a sharp, final crack, it snapped apart.
Just like that.
No screams. No fresh blood. No death.
The rope fell harmlessly to the ground, landing with a soft, almost pitiful thud, as though it had never been anything more than ordinary cord. As though it hadn't just turned this beautiful courtyard into a public execution ground.
My hands were free.
Even my legs were free, the bindings dissolving into useless strands at my ankles.
But I didn't move.
I just stood there, staring down at the broken rope at my feet, my chest rising and falling too fast, too unevenly, as if my body hadn't yet accepted the simple, impossible truth that I was still alive.
Alive.
Around us, the courtyard went deathly quiet.
Not the normal kind of quiet that follows a surprise.
The kind that presses against your eardrums until it hurts. The kind that makes you painfully aware of every single breath you take, every frantic heartbeat echoing in your chest, every tiny shift of fabric or scrape of boots on stone.
Some students stared at me with wide, disbelieving eyes. Others stared at Ashriel as though he had just rewritten the laws of nature in front of them. A few stared at the two bodies still lying on the ground, as though their minds were only now catching up to what their eyes had witnessed minutes earlier. The reality of it all sank in slowly. Cruelly. Inexorably.
The girl who had tried from a distance, the brave human who had coughed up blood and collapsed, was back on her feet now, though she looked far paler than before, as though death had brushed past her shoulder and decided, for now, to wait elsewhere.
Then Irene blinked.
Once.
Twice.
She staggered back a step as if waking from a deep, unwilling trance. Confusion clouded her usually sharp features.
"What… what happened?" she muttered, her voice rough and disoriented, nothing like the smug confidence she had worn earlier.
Her eyes landed on me.
Then on the snapped rope lying harmlessly on the stone.
Then on Ashriel.
Her jaw tightened visibly, a flash of something dark and dangerous flickering across her face.
Ashriel had already slipped the white protective glasses back on, as casually as if he had merely adjusted his collar.
Just like that.
Like he hadn't just bent a pure-blooded vampire to his will with nothing more than a look and a quiet command.
Like he hadn't just cheated death, mine and his… in front of an entire courtyard of witnesses.
"You're dismissed," Ysara said sharply, her usual performative warmth completely gone. Her tone was cold and official now, laced with barely concealed irritation. "Return to your dorms immediately. Tomorrow, we will begin proper introductions and continue with other… activities."
No one moved immediately.
Fear has a way of gluing people to the ground, rooting them in place long after the danger has supposedly passed.
"Now," she repeated, her voice cracking like a whip.
That did it.
The students began to scatter in hushed, uneasy waves. Murmurs broke out, low, urgent, filled with questions no one dared voice too loudly. Glances were thrown over shoulders. Eyes followed Ashriel wherever he stood, tracking his every movement with a mixture of awe and wariness. No one laughed anymore. No one looked bored or detached.
They looked… shaken. Deeply, profoundly shaken.
I swayed slightly on my feet, the world tilting without warning as the adrenaline finally began to crash. Before I could stop myself, my knees buckled.
I didn't hit the ground.
A strong hand caught my arm, firm, steady, surprisingly gentle.
I looked up, and it wasn't Ashriel.
It was one of the professors. The one who had called Ashriel's name earlier.
Up close, he was handsome.
In a quiet, restrained, almost melancholic way.
His long black hair was neatly tied back, a few loose strands framing a pale, finely sculpted face that spoke of old bloodlines and older burdens. His features were refined, high cheekbones, a straight nose, and lips that rarely seemed to smile. His eyes held something distant and weary, like someone who had learned to carry far too much weight without ever setting it down. He didn't look cold, exactly, despite the sharp authority he radiated. He looked like he belonged to places far harsher than this academy… places where survival demanded silence and strength in equal measure.
I really haven't seen enough of the world, I thought dazedly. Even enough of Ashriel… because why is everyone in this academy so unfairly, devastatingly handsome?
"Can you stand?" he asked, his voice low and even, pulling me gently out of my spiraling thoughts.
"I think so?" I breathed, still unsteady.
One corner of his mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. More like quiet acknowledgment of my attempt.
"Good," he said simply, steadying me properly until my feet were planted firmly on the stone once more.
"Thank you… sir," I managed, offering a small, shaky smile. He looked young for a professor, but respect came first in a place like this.
"It's nothing," he replied.
I smiled at him again, a little wider this time, hoping to convey gratitude I couldn't quite put into words.
He didn't return it.
Instead, his expression hardened slightly as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper meant for my ears alone.
"Stay away from my brother."
The words landed like a quiet warning wrapped in ice.
And then he walked away without another glance, his long coat swaying behind him like a shadow.
I stood there, staring at his retreating back, my mind completely blank except for one question looping endlessly in my head.
How did we even get here?