Life is strange. One day you're feeling on top of the world, buzzing with the excitement of achieving an incredible milestone, surrounded by the people who were always by your side every step of the way. The next, you're sitting on the floor, staring at the
dead body of a wizard who just told you all your friends were dead. Or maybe it
was all just a bad dream, another prank my mind was pulling on me. But that was
just wishful thinking. This was happening right here and right now.
The sky outside was still dark, so I knew I couldn't have been out for long. Maybe only a couple minutes. The reading room was silent, except for the shuffling of my feet as I shifted closer to the body. My mind was completely empty. I should have been scared. I should have been crying. Heck, I just killed a person with my fangs. But as I looked over the broken body of the wizard whose lips and eyes were still frozen in the final act of screaming, I felt nothing, just a
silent emptiness. I was calm…too calm, in fact. I began searching the body while
mulling over my unusual composure. It was as if something inside me had changed.
Right now, nothing else mattered but surviving.
The corpse wasn't rigid, which confirmed my hunch that I wasn't unconscious for long. Apart from a crystal necklace and a small knife, I couldn't find anything else on the wizard. I held both in my hand, examining them for anything important. The necklace had a faint glow which probably meant it had some type of magic in it. The knife wasn't anything impressive, just a basic metal blade. While I turned it to the side looking for any sign of magic, I heard a sharp static coming from the crystal still gripped firmly in my left hand.
I instantly went still, waiting for the voice on the other line to speak.
"Vincent. Come in." The voice coming from the crystal was sharp and frustrated. "You haven't moved for almost twenty minutes, talk to me."
Without even hesitating or giving it much thought, I answered, speaking in a lower tone, "I'm fine. Just catching my breath."
"Catching your breath?! Dammit Vincent, I've got to deal with you just randomly deciding to catch your breath and the second squad going completely offline. What the fuck is going on out there?!" the voice responded, angrily.
"Relax, Walter. I'm on it already. I've secured the orb, now what did you say about the other squad?" I asked, my mind beginning to go wild.
There's a second squad?
"They went offline ten minutes ago, and then I find your ass in the same position doing fuck all. Get over there and make sure they're just 'catching their breaths' too."
"Copy," I said, standing up. "Where was their last location?"
It took a while for Walter to respond before he replied, "About 200 feet Northwest, around the library."
I froze instantly. The library. The anniversary party. Scott. That was it, that had to be it. "Y...y...you're sure?" I asked, the first glimmer of hope beginning to dawn on me. If there was a second squad and they went offline at the library, then it meant
someone was there. Someone alive.
"Of course I'm sure. Vincent you feeling alright? You sound friggin' weird."
I crushed the crystal in my palm and immediately bolted upstairs. The hallway was still dark and Hector's door was still wide open. I couldn't bring myself to look inside, but ripped my door open and grabbed a fresh shirt from my drawer, pulling off my ruined shirt which was torn across the chest, singed at the edges and stained with both blood that was and wasn't mine. Without looking back, I began running back downstairs, and through the main entrance, heading straight for the library. Every second mattered. The wizards knew Vincent was gone now, or they would soon. It was only a matter of time before reinforcements came
looking, and once they found the body, they would look for me.
Running at full speed with the wind whipping my hair backwards, I arrived at the library in about two minutes. I stopped at the entrance because it was clear something had gone horribly wrong. The glass walls on the ground floor had been blown inward,
leaving jagged teeth of glass in the frames. The revolving door was gone, ripped from its hinges and tossed aside. Standing outside, I could see smoke curling out through windows on the second and third floors.
I walked past the entrance carefully, glass crunching under my shoes. Smoke stung my eyes and burned my throat, but I didn't call out yet. I still had way no of knowing who was alive or not. The library which had been beautiful once was now a complete mess. Bookshelves had been toppled, their contents scattered across the floor in messy piles. Pages were torn loose from their bindings, drifting in the smoky air and settling on the scorched carpet. The walls were scarred with black marks, and every piece of furniture was splintered or overturned. I moved through the debris, careful not to make too much noise. So far I hadn't seen any bodies, just the aftermath of whatever had happened a couple minutes ago. The elevator had been blasted open, but the stairs were still intact. I took two at a time, my heart pounding, trapped between the panic, hope and the fear of what I might find.
The second floor lounge room was where Scott usually hung out. He liked the couches there, the ones that faced the big windows overlooking the courtyard. He said the light was good for reading, even though I had never seen him read anything that wasn't a
manga. I pushed the door open slightly. The room was dark, lit only by the moonlight filtering from the broken windows. I noticed that the damage to the lounge was far smaller than the other rooms I'd passed. The couches were overturned, the coffee table was cracked down the middle, and a lamp lay on its side, its shade torn down and twisted, but it seemed like the fire hadn't
gotten inside.
And then a blur came from the corner of my eye.
My hand shot out before I could even think, catching the fist aimed at my face. Another blur came from my left, but my other hand snapped up and caught that one too. It took my brain a second to catch up. When it did, I saw the faces attached to the fists.
Scott's wide eyes and Zoë's shocked expression. They were both frozen, staring
at me like I was a ghost.
"Darmian?" Scott's voice cracked.
I pulled them both into a hug before I could think about it. They were warm. Alive. I could feel their racing heartbeats through their chest, could feel the tension slowly drain out of their bodies as they recognised me. Tears threatened to fall out of my eyes,
but I blinked them back, relieved that I wasn't alone in this nightmare.
"What the hell happened to you?" Zoë's voice was muffled against my shoulder.
I breathed a sigh of relief. "I could ask you the same thing."
I pulled back and looked at them properly. They were both roughed up. Scott had a burn mark on his left cheek, the skin raw and angry. Zoë's sleeve was torn, and there was a cut on her forearm that was still bleeding. Her hair wasn't any better, singed at the
edges.
"You guys okay?"
Zoë nodded. "We're fine. We got attacked by wizards. It was crazy, Darmian, first—"
"I know about the wizards," I cut in. "I ran into one."
"Wasn't easy knocking both of them out, Scott said. "How'd you get past yours?"
"Had to knock him out too," I lied. "Wasn't pretty either." I felt bad lying to them, but I couldn't bring myself to tell them I killed someone, worse still by biting. "Where are the others?"
Scott's face went pale. He exchanged a quick glance with Zoë, something passing between them that made my stomach drop.
"Follow me," he said, already turning for the door.
Scott led me up another flight of stairs, the heat growing more intense with every step. By the time we reached the third floor computer room, the air was thick and heavy, almost impossible to breathe. The fire hadn't reached this part of the building yet, but I knew it was nearby, crackling and hungry, waiting to spread.
Marcus was on the floor near the back wall, propped up against a fallen desk. His face was pale, slick with sweat, his jaw clenched tight against the pain. Mackenzie knelt beside him, pressing a wad of cloth against his right abdomen. The cloth was soaked through with dark red blood seeping between her fingers, dripping onto the
floor in a slow, steady rhythm.
Mackenzie looked up when I entered. Her eyes were red, but she wasn't crying. At least not anymore. She pushed herself to her feet and crossed the room in three quick strides, wrapping her arms around me before I could say anything.
I held her for a moment, feeling the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers gripped the back of my shirt like I might disappear.
"You're alive," she whispered.
"I'm alive," I said. "So are you."
She pulled back and nodded, then turned to gesture at Marcus. "Damn wizards hit him with something. It won't stop bleeding no matter how hard we try."
I crossed the room and dropped to my knees beside him. His wound was ugly. A deep gash across his side, the edges dark and angry. Mackenzie's makeshift bandage was already soaked through. I ripped off the arms of my shirt, pressed the fresh cloth against it, and Marcus sucked in a sharp
breath through his teeth.
"Hey," he said, his voice weak but steady. "Good to see you."
"Save your strength," I told him. "How bad is it?"
"I'll be fine." He tried to smile but it didn't reach his eyes.
I looked at Scott. "What happened?"
Scott's face darkened. He ran a hand through his hair, then started talking.
"After the physicals test, I managed to drag Zoë from her hostel down to the library. She was half asleep, complaining the whole way." He glanced at her. "You were, don't deny it."
Zoë didn't deny it.
"I went to get Marcus and Mackenzie next. They were still awake. Just barely. Then I met Henry and Laura as they were heading back to their rooms. I asked them to come, but they said no. Said they were too tired and wanted to sleep."
"Was there something wrong with them?" I asked. "Did they seem off to you at all?"
Scott shook his head. "Just tired. Same as everyone else. We spent maybe an hour in the library after that. People started leaving, one by one, too drained to stay awake. Even the librarians left early. Eventually, it was just the four of us. I thought you and the others would show up eventually, so we waited. When you didn't, we kept ourselves busy. Games, stories, our CVC highlights."
I felt a twinge of guilt tugging at my chest as he spoke. If I had been in the library, maybe Marcus wouldn't have gotten badly injured.
"A couple hours later," Scott continued, "we heard the front doors get blasted open. Naturally, we rushed to see what was happening when we heard voices we didn't recognize."
"Wizards," I said.
Scott nodded. "Two of them. Women. They were laughing about being stuck on confirmation duty. Just standing there, laughing, like they didn't care who heard them." He shook his head, and his voice dropped. "They were supposed to check for survivors. Make sure the spell had worked."
"So you guys know about the spell too," I said quietly.
Zoë shut her eyes, exhaling deeply. "Yeah, we do."
"Confirmation duty," Scott repeated. "They were here to finish the job."
"I don't know how they knew we were there," Mackenzie said. "They just started heading up the stairs, so we took cover."
"We figured we couldn't hide forever," Scott said. "So we ambushed them. We didn't have a lot of options."
"How did you guys deal with the lightning?" I asked.
Scott looked at me strangely. "Lightning?"
I nodded. "The guy I fought. He used lightning."
Scott and Zoë exchange a look that made me nervous.
"Ours didn't use lightning," Zoë said quietly. "They used fire."
"Fire and Lightning?" I mulled. "So what happened?
"We fought," Scott said. "It was complete chaos. We couldn't even get close to them. They just kept throwing fireballs at us and laughing about it. The library started burning, and we had to retreat, but they kept pushing."
Mackenzie's voice was thick when she spoke. "Marcus got hit by a small knife from one of them. It was barely noticeable. We thought he could just wait it out and heal. But it's gotten worse instead."
"It's not healing," I said. It was a statement, not a question.
"We don't know why," Zoë said. "The wound keeps getting worse. I think there's some type of magic or poison in the knife that's stopping him from healing."
I looked down at Marcus. His face was pale, his breathing shallow, his hands clenched against the pain. The cloth was already soaked through.
Scott let out a slow breath, wiping sweat from his forehead. "After Marcus got hit, we had to keep moving. The fire was spreading, and those wizards weren't letting up. But we
know this library better than anyone." A ghost of a grin crossed his face. "All those late nights hiding from the librarians finally paid off. We used every secret spot, every blind corner, every stack of books we could knock over to slow them down. Eventually we got the upper hand. Caught them off guard and knocked them unconscious."
Zoë nodded. "Then we broke the crystal necklaces they were wearing. Whatever magic they were using, it died with those stones."
"And we tied them up," Mackenzie added. "Locked them in the technical services room downstairs. They're not going anywhere."
"But that was maybe twenty minutes ago," Scott said. "Then we heard glass breaking on the ground floor. We thought it was backup. More wizards coming to find them. So Zoë and I hid in the lounge room, waiting."
He looked at me. "Then you walked in."
I stood there, processing everything, my thoughts and questions crashing into each other. The wizards had been there for confirmation duty. They had come to make sure everyone was dead. And my friends had fought them off. They had survived.
But Henry and Laura hadn't been in the library.
The silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating. I could hear Marcus's labored breathing, the faint crackle of the fire somewhere below, the distant creak of the building settling.
"Why are they here?" Marcus's voice was weak but steady. "I thought they were gone."
I shook my head. "I don't know. I don't know how they got out. I don't know why they came here. I don't know anything anymore."
Mackenzie looked at me, her eyes searching mine. "Do you believe what they said? About the spell? About everyone being dead?"
I felt my throat tighten. My mind wandered back to Hector, lying cold in his bed. Isaac, still and silent in his room. The empty hallways, the dark windows, the silence that
had followed me everywhere. What were the chances it was all just some freak
coincidence and that everybody else was really just sleeping? Deep down I knew the answer to that already.
"Yeah," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I think I do."
Mackenzie's face crumpled, but she didn't cry. She just nodded, once, and looked away.
The gravity of it settled over us as we sat there in the dark. Henry, Laura, Ms. Flores, Mr. Sebastian. Not just them, but everyone we had known, everyone we had laughed with, everyone who had cheered for us during the CVC. They were all gone. And we were the only ones left.
Scott broke the silence first. "We can't stay here."
I nodded slowly. "You're right. We need to escape. Get off campus and find help."
Zoë shook her head. "We can't get past the blood identification system without a teacher or staff member. And if what the wizards said is true, then all the staff are dead."
"I know." I massaged the bridge of my nose, trying to think. "But we still need to try something. The wizards know something is up by now. They'll send reinforcements. We don't have long before this place is swarming with more of them. We need to be anywhere but here when that happens."
Scott straightened up. "We could try Ms. Judge's office. I know it's off-limits to everyone and no one's been inside for years, but if there's any chance of something that could help us, it would be there. Maybe she had a way to override the system."
It wasn't a great plan. It was barely a plan at all. But right now, it was the only thing we had.
I looked at the others. "We're all on board with this, right?"
Mackenzie nodded, helping Marcus to his feet. He groaned, his hand pressed against his wound, but he didn't protest.
Zoë met my eyes. "Let's move."
We left the burning library behind us, slipping out through a side door, the cold night air hitting my face like a slap. The campus stretched out before us, dark and silent and empty. I led the way toward Principal Judge's office. Behind me, I heard
Scott's footsteps, Zoë's breathing, Mackenzie's quiet words of encouragement to Marcus. We had lost so much tonight. So many people. So many pieces of ourselves. But we were still standing and fighting together. And as long as that was true, I wasn't going to give up.
***************
The admin building stood
squat and unassuming, a single-story box of mostly faded brick and dark windows. Nothing impressive. The lobby inside was exactly what you'd expect from a place that had been bleeding budget for decades. The carpet was the color of dried mud, worn thin in patches where generations of students had shuffled through. A reception desk sat against the far wall, buried under ancient paperwork and a dead plant that had clearly given up years ago. The chairs in the waiting area were the kind you'd find in a budget airline terminal: ugly, uncomfortable, and held together by sheer stubbornness. A
framed portrait of the college's founder hung crookedly on the wall, his stern face watching us with silent judgment.
I didn't bother with the front door. I kicked it open with a single strike, the wood splintering around the lock. Scott let out a low whistle behind me.
"Nice," he said. "I mean, usually I'd say we should respect school property, but right now? I don't think this counts as vandalism."
"Noted." I turned to the others. "We need to split up. Scott and I will check Ms. Judge's office. Zoë, Mackenzie, you two search the smaller offices. Look for anything related to the blood identification system. Override codes. Manuals. Anything that might help
us get past the gate."
Zoë nodded, already moving toward the hallway on the left. Mackenzie hesitated, glancing at Marcus, who was leaning against the doorframe, his face pale and his breathing shallow.
"I'll stay with him," she said. "We'll search the offices near the entrance. Keep an eye on the door."
"Stay close," I said. "If you hear anything, shout. We're not splitting up any further than this."
Mackenzie helped Marcus to a chair near the reception desk, and I turned toward the main office. The door was closed, but not locked, even though there was a huge 'DO NOT ENTER' sign on the front of the door. I pushed it open and stepped inside. Scott followed, closing the door behind us.
The last time I had been inside Ms. Judge's office, I was just a kid. Fresh off an unexpected trip from New York, still reeling from the revelation that I was a vampire. I had sat in this same office, trembling, while Mr. Frank welcomed me to Crescent College with a warm smile and a handshake that made me feel, for the first time in my life,
like I might belong somewhere. But that was a different office in a different time, in a different world.
This office was stripped bare. No desk. No bookshelves. No landline. The television that had once hung on the wall was gone, leaving nothing but a dark rectangle of bare paint. The only furniture was a sofa, its fabric worn and faded, and a single wooden chair
sitting in the corner. Stacks of folders and loose papers covered the sofa, piled high and disorganized. A personal coffee machine sat on the chair, its carafe still half full. A printer and a desktop computer lay on the floor, their cords tangled and useless. A shredder sat beside them, with the bin
overflowing with strips of paper.
"Cozy," Scott muttered.
I knelt beside the sofa and immediately started sorting through the papers. Food orders, scheduled tests, teacher reports, maintenance requests. Nothing useful. I flipped through folder after folder, my frustration building.
"Scott, you find anything?"
"Nothing so far," he said, rifling through a filing cabinet in the corner. "Just student report cards. Which, honestly, I'd normally be thrilled to read, but right now feels…wrong."
I sighed and stood up, scanning the room. Something was wrong. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but the office felt incomplete. Even a student would have difficulty studying in this office. It just didn't make sense that Principal Judge would remove so much stationery when her work pretty much depended on it.
"Why is there no desk?" I asked. "No table? The TV is gone. Even the landline is missing. Where did all the furniture go?"
Scott shrugged. "Who knows. Maybe she redecorated. Not everyone likes sitting at a desk."
"Still. It doesn't make sense," I said, shaking my head. "This was her office. She probably spent hours in here. There's got to be something I'm missing."
I stopped. My eyes had landed on the coffee machine, sitting on the wooden chair in the corner. I walked over to it, picked it up, and examined it. The carafe was still half
full of what looked like old coffee. Brown and crusty. I set it down and noticed almost immediately that the sound was wrong. It sounded too hollow.
I frowned and picked it up again. I dropped it back onto the chair with a little more force. The same hollow sound echoed through the room.
Scott looked up. "What are you doing?"
"Come here," I said. "Listen to this."
Scott crossed the room, and I demonstrated. I raised the coffee machine and dropped it again. The hollow thud was unmistakable this time, and beneath it, we both heard a low echo. A deep, resonant sound that seemed to come from somewhere beneath us.
Scott's eyes went wide. "There's
something under the office."
We both stared at the coffee machine, then at the chair beneath it, then at each other. I set the coffee machine aside and knelt beside the chair, running my hands over the wood. It looked ordinary. I lifted the chair and examined the legs but didn't see anything special. I turned it over and looked
at the bottom. There was a small indentation in the center, barely visible, but it was there, no doubt.
"A load trigger system," I muttered.
Scott knelt beside me. "What's that?"
"I read about it online once. It's a weight-based mechanism. You put something on an object, like this chair, and it triggers a reaction." I looked at the coffee machine. "But it's not just any weight. It has to be the
right weight. The coffee machine was on the chair when we came in, but it didn't trigger anything."
"So what changed?"
I thought about it. "Maybe the coffee machine alone isn't heavy enough. Or maybe it has to be in the exact right position."
I placed the coffee machine back on the chair, carefully, exactly where it had been. Nothing happened. I pressed down on it, adding my own weight. Still nothing.
"Try moving it," Scott suggested. "Maybe it's about placement."
I slid the coffee machine to the left. Nothing. To the right. Nothing. I moved it forward, then backward. Nothing.
"Maybe it's not the coffee machine," Scott said. "Could be the chair itself."
I stood up and looked at the chair carefully. The legs were worn at the bottom, but one of them had a small groove cut into it, almost invisible unless you knew what to look for. I knelt and traced the groove with my finger. It was too precise to be accidental. I lifted the chair and turned it over again. The indentation in the bottom was shallow, but when I pressed my thumb into it, I felt something give. A latch.
"Scott, help me hold this."
Scott grabbed the other side of the chair, and together we tilted it at a forty-five degree angle. I pressed the indentation again, and this time, I heard a soft click from
somewhere beneath the floor. The wall at the far end of the office slid open,
revealing a narrow staircase leading down into darkness.
We both stared at it.
"Well," Scott said, "that's definitely not supposed to be there."
"Go get the others."
It took them about a minute to make their way down the hallway, and when they stepped through the office door and saw the gaping hole in the wall, the expressions on their faces were almost worth the chaos of the night. Mackenzie's jaw dropped. Zoë's eyes went wide. Even Marcus, pale and struggling, managed to look impressed.
"What the hell is that?" Mackenzie asked.
"Ms. Judge's secret room, apparently," I said. "Or her hidden lair. I haven't decided which yet."
Zoë stepped closer, peering into the darkness. "Where does it lead?"
I pushed the wall further open."There's only one way to find out."
We took the stairs slowly. The steps were made of stone, worn smooth in the center from years of use. The air grew cooler as we descended, carrying that old basement smell of dust and forgotten things. At the bottom, I tried the handle and it turned
easily, the door swinging open.
The room beyond had a very low ceiling, but the décor was anything but cramped. Paintings lined the walls, landscapes and portraits of people I didn't recognize. Bookshelves rose from floor to ceiling, stuffed with old volumes that looked like they hadn't been touched in decades. Glass display cases held different weapons and
artifacts, each one perfectly lit by small lamps that somehow still had power. A large wooden desk sat near the center of the room with an empty plate on top like someone had just finished a meal.
I moved deeper inside, my eyes scanning everything. Scott and Mackenzie fanned out, checking the shelves and the display cases. Zoë helped Marcus to a chair near the desk, his breathing still shallow and ragged.
I walked toward the far end of the room, where a small bed sat tucked into the corner. My blood ran cold. The covers were pulled up, and beneath them, I could see the shape of a body. Not again. Not another one. I had already seen enough dead bodies tonight. Hector, Isaac, Vincent. I didn't want to see another.
But I had to know. I reached out and grabbed the edge of the sheet. The blade came out of nowhere.
One second, my hand was on the covers. The next, a knife was pressed against my throat, so close I could feel the cold metal against my skin. But my reflexes kicked in. My hand shot up and caught the wrist holding the blade, stopping it just as it pressed against my Adam's apple.
It all happened in a flash. Half a heartbeat. I looked into the face of the person holding the knife, and I almost collapsed with relief.
Ms. Judge's eyes were wide, her grip still tight on the blade. She was wearing pajamas. Simple grey ones, nothing like the crisp suits she always wore in public. Her hair was messy and her face was pale.
"Darmian?" Her voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.
I let go of her hand and stepped back, my heart still pounding. "Yeah, Ms. Judge. It's me."
She lowered the knife slowly, staring at me like I was a ghost. Then her eyes moved past me, taking in the others, and her expression shifted. Confusion turned to suspicion. Suspicion turned to anger.
"What in God's name are all of you doing here?" She was on her feet now, the knife still in her hand, her voice sharp and hard. "I hope this is just a very bad prank."
Scott stepped forward, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "Ms. Judge, we were attacked. By wizards."
She stared at him like he had just confessed to being a circus performer. "Wizards? Is that the best you could come up with? Do you take me for a fool, Mr. Travers?!"
"You're not a fool," Scott said. "But you're wrong about this being a prank. They were—"
"I've dealt with student pranks for twenty years," she cut him off. "This isn't the first time someone has tried to be clever young man."
Zoë stepped into the room, supporting Marcus with her shoulder. "Ms. Judge. Please."
Ms. Judge's eyes fell on Marcus, and the anger on her face flickered. She crossed the room in two quick strides, her hands reaching for him.
"He's hurt," she said. "What happened to him?"
I moved closer. "It's true, Ms. Judge. Every word of it. Wizards attacked the campus. They're the reason Marcus got injured. The reason the power is out. The reason everyone is—" I stopped, swallowing hard. "The reason everyone is dead."
She looked at me, her eyes searching mine. For a moment, I thought she was going to argue. Then she glanced up at the lights, or lack of them, and seemed to notice for the first time that the room was only lit by the small lamps on the display cases. The
power was out. That was undeniable.
"The teachers," she said slowly, her voice uncertain now. "The security team. Why didn't they protect you?"
I felt my throat tighten. "They're gone. All of them. The wizards cast some kind of sleeping spell. They told us it killed everyone."
Ms. Judge shook her head. "That's impossible."
She stopped, picked up a phone from the desk and pressed a speed dial button. I could hear the distant drone of a ring tone. Once. Twice. Three times. Then the click of a voicemail greeting.She tried another number. Same result.
"Confirmation," she muttered. "I need to confirm the situation completely. I can't just—"
"There's no time," I cut
in. "The wizard I fought had a partner. They'll send reinforcements the moment they realize something went wrong. We need to get out of here now."
Ms. Judge looked at me,and I could see the conflict in her eyes. The part of her that wanted to deny everything. The part of her that was already calculating the odds. I could see it because the same thoughts were running through my head a couple minutes ago.
"The blood identification system," I said. "That's why we came to your office. We need to override it and escape."
Scott stepped forward. "Is this really your office, by the way?"
Ms. Judge shot him alook. "Yes. The school administrators don't know about this room. It's where I go when I need to work without being disturbed. Everything in here, the paintings, the books, the artifacts, I collected them myself over the years."
"That explains a lot," Scott said.
Ms. Judge turned back to me, her expression softening just slightly. "You're right. We need to leave. I can bypass the blood identification system. But we'll need money to leave the forest and find somewhere to stay until we report this to the agency."
My heart lifted. We actually had a real chance to escape. I glanced at the others. Scott gave me a small nod. Zoë wrapped her arm tighter around Marcus. Mackenzie stood close to her brother, her hand on his shoulder.
She crossed to a small safe hidden behind one of the paintings and began working the combination when we heard it.
Footsteps. Heavy and deliberate, pounding across the floor above us. Shouts. Angry voices, overlapping and sharp. They were in the office. They had found us.
Zoë's face went pale. "They're back. The wizards are back."
Scott's head snapped toward the ceiling. "How?! How did they find us so fast?!"
My mind was racing, trying to piece it together. The wizard I killed, Vincent. His partner had been tracking him. But not just him, he was also tracking the orb. And I had been carrying it the whole time, glowing like a beacon, leading them straight to us.
I reached into my pocket and felt the warmth against my fingers. The orb was pulsing, steady and insistent, like a second heartbeat. I pulled it out, and the soft glow
illuminated my face.
"They're looking for this," I said, my voice flat.
Mackenzie stared at the orb, her eyes wide. "What is that thing?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "Ms. Flores gave it to me after the CVC. She said not to let it out of my sight."
Scott's voice cracked with frustration. "Why would you bring that thing with you?! You knew they could track us!"
"I just told you! I can't leave it out of my sight! She said—"
"Who cares what she said?! She's dead!" Scott's face was red, his hands shaking. "We're going to die because you couldn't leave some glowing rock behind!"
I felt my own temper flare. "And if I had left it, they would've found it anyway! They would've come looking for it, and then what? You want to be trapped in a room full of dead
bodies with nothing to bargain with?!"
"Enough!" Ms. Judge's voice cut through our argument. "Both of you, shut up. Now."
We fell silent. The footsteps above were louder now, right above the hidden door. A muffled shout, then a heavy thud against the floor.
Ms. Judge walked over to me, her hand outstretched. "Give me the orb."
I handed it to her without hesitation. She turned it over in her palms, her eyes scanning its surface, her brow furrowed. The glow reflected in her pupils, making her look
almost like she was seeing something we couldn't.
"I've never seen one in person," she said slowly. "But I've read about them and studied old texts that match the description." She looked up at me. "You're holding a portal orb."
"A what?" Mackenzie asked.
"A portal orb," she repeated. "They're ancient and very rare. They can transport the user to a predetermined location." She handed it back to me. "But they can only be
activated with a specific word. A keyword unique to the user."
I stared at the orb, my heart sinking. "I don't know any keyword. Ms. Flores never even told me anything like that."
"That's because she probably didn't know it herself," Ms. Judge said. "The keyword is personal. It has to come from you. You have to figure it out."
Above us, the office door was blown open. A deafening crash echoed through the building, followed by the heavy footsteps of more wizards entering the room. The hidden door shook as something heavy slammed against it. Dust rained down from the ceiling.
Ms. Judge looked at us, her face grim. "I'll hold them off. As long as I can." She grabbed a blade from one of the display cases, and turned toward the stairs.
"Ms. Judge—" I started.
"Figure out the keyword," she cut me off. "And don't waste time worrying about me. I've been fighting longer than you've been alive."
She didn't wait for a response. She was already moving, her footsteps fast and determined, disappearing up the stairs. A moment later, I heard the hidden door open, then slam shut. Then the sounds of fighting. Crashes. Shouts. The unmistakable crackle of magic.
The orb pulsed in my hand, warm and waiting. I stared at it, my mind racing. The keyword was personal. Something unique to me.
What the hell could it be?!
I closed my eyes and tried to think.
The sounds above us were completely chaotic. Ms. Judge's voice, sharp and commanding, cutting through the crash of magic and metal. The wizards shouting back, their voices overlapping, too many to count. At least ten of them,maybe more. Ms. Judge was strong, one of the strongest vampires I had ever met, but she was one person against an army.
I started shouting words. Anything that came to mind. "Open!" Nothing. "Portal!"
Nothing. "Activate! Release! Unlock!"
The orb just sat in my palm, glowing softly, pulsing like it was mocking me.
The hidden door shook again. More dust rained down from the ceiling. The fight upstairs was getting closer. Scott was pacing, his hands in his hair. Zoë had her arms wrapped around Marcus, her face pale. Marcus was barely conscious, his breathing shallow, his wound still bleeding through the cloth.
"I can't do this," I muttered. "I don't know what it is. I don't—"
Mackenzie stood up.
She didn't say anything at first. She just walked over to one of the glass display cases, grabbed a longsword from inside, and shattered the glass with the hilt. The sound echoed through the room.
"Mackenzie, what are you doing?" I asked.
She turned to me, her eyes dry, and a determined look. "Take care of my brother. And make sure you crack that damn orb."
"Mackenzie, no. You can't—"
"I can," she cut me off. "I have to."
Marcus moaned, his hand reaching out weakly for his sister. "Kenzie… don't…"
She knelt beside him, pressing her forehead against his. "I'll be back," she whispered. "I promise."
Then she pulled away, looked at me one last time, and headed up the stairs. I watched her go, my throat tight. Tears stung my eyes. Marcus was crying too, his hand still outstretched, his fingers closing on empty air.
"Keep going," Zoë said, her voice shaking. "Keep trying."
I turned back to the orb and started shouting again. "Escape! Freedom! Now! Please!"
Nothing.
The sounds from upstairs grew louder. I could hear Mackenzie's voice now, joining Ms. Judge's. A scream. A crash. The sound of glass breaking.
I closed my eyes again, focusing on the dark, and shutting out everything else. Time seemed to slow down. The shouts and screams faded into the background, muffled and distant. The only thing I could hear was my own heartbeat, pounding in my ears. One word. There had to be one word. Something personal. Something meaningful. Something that only I would know.
I thought about the tournament. The Clover Hotel. The night I ate room service for the first time. The final fight. The surge of power I didn't understand. The dream. The snow. The dog lying still. The figure standing over him. The moon hanging over the sun.
The word came to me like a whisper from somewhere deep inside my mind.
Eclipse
I heard the voice again, the same one from my nightmare, louder and clearer.
Eclipse
I opened my mouth. "Eclipse."
The orb exploded with light.
I stumbled back, shielding my eyes. The glow was blinding, filling the entire room with red and blue. The orb shot upward, hovering in the air, and then it transformed. A portal ripped open in front of me, a swirling mirror of bluish red that rippled like a drop of water had broken its surface.
We all stared at it. None of us moved.
Zoë snapped out of it first. "Where does it lead?"
"Who cares?" Scott said. "It's got to be better than here. See you guys on the other side."
He ran toward the portal and disappeared through it.
Zoë turned to me, her eyes wet. "Don't do anything stupid. Follow immediately."
Then she was gone too.
I grabbed Marcus, pulling his arm over my shoulder. He was heavy, his body limp, his breathing ragged. I dragged him across the room with my legs shaking and my heart
pounding.
We were almost there when I heard the door crack open behind me.
I turned. A wizard had broken through, and raised his staff, aiming directly at me, the tip beginning to crackle with energy.
But before I could move, Marcus reacted. He shoved me aside and launched himself at the wizard. The tackle sent both of them crashing to the floor, the wizard's blast going wild into the ceiling. I stumbled and fell, my hands hitting the ground.
"Go!" Marcus screamed. He was on top of the wizard, his hands wrapped around the man's throat, his wound bleeding even faster now. "Go, Darmian!"
"No! I'm not leaving you!"
"You have to! You need to!"
The wizard drove a small blade into Marcus's side. Marcus screamed, but he didn't let go. He pinned the wizard's arms, his face twisted in agony.
"They're coming!" Marcus shouted. "Please! Go!"
I heard the footsteps on the stairs. More wizards. They were coming and would be here any second. Marcus looked at me,
his face pale and streaked with blood and sweat. But his eyes were clear. Full of something I didn't deserve.
"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine Darmian," he said, gritting through the pain.
Tears were streaming down my face. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. I couldn't leave him.
"GO!"
I turned and threw myself into the portal just as four more wizards arrived.
The world twisted around me, colors bleeding into each other, sound fading into nothing. The last thing I heard was Marcus's voice, screaming my name. And then, silence.