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Selene stood at the edge of the grand hall, cloaked in silence. Morning light, pale and distorted through the enchanted stained-glass ceiling, spilled across rows of ancient tables. Candles floated overhead, dripping wax that never touched the ground, flickering in hues of crimson and bone-white. It smelled of dust, stone, blood—and power.
Blackthorn Academy was awake.
Students filled the hall like wolves in silk. Fangs gleamed between quiet whispers. Goblets brimmed with bloodwine—some fresh, some aged, all served without guilt. Their uniforms bore crests from noble vampire Houses, embroidered in sharp silver, crimson, emerald, and midnight blue. The colors weren't for decoration—they were armor, declarations of allegiance, warnings in a world where one wrong glance could draw blood.
She was dressed in black and silver. No crest of House. Only the emblem of her family—a single raven clutching a thorned rose—subtle, stitched just beneath the collar. Selene walked forward, spine straight, head high. Every pair of eyes in the room followed her, some curious, others hostile, most hungry.
She felt the moment his gaze found her—cold, electric, intense.
Matthew Duskbane.
He stood near the center table, surrounded by others like him: predators disguised as royalty. He didn't speak, but his eyes never left hers. When she passed, he stepped forward.
"Don't stop walking," he murmured beside her, voice silk-wrapped steel.
Selene kept moving.
"You're already causing a stir," he continued, hands in his pockets, tone unreadable. "Two minutes in, and half the Houses are debating whether to court you or kill you."
"I expected worse," she said dryly.
Matthew's mouth curved slightly. "You will get worse. You just haven't stepped on the right toes yet."
They reached the front of the room as silence swept across the hall. All eyes turned to the high dais where Headmistress Vale now stood. She was tall, ageless, draped in robes of onyx. Her hair shimmered like wet obsidian, and her voice cut through the room like velvet wrapped in iron.
"Welcome," she began, "to another year at Blackthorn Academy—a sanctuary for the gifted, the feared, the fallen, and the fated. For those who walk in shadow and drink from the past."
Her gaze swept the room, lingering—purposefully—on Selene.
"You have come from noble Houses and ancient bloodlines. But make no mistake. Within these walls, blood alone will not save you. Power does not respect name—it respects strength."
Whispers rippled like wind through the hall.
"Every term, Blackthorn chooses its hierarchy. Trials will come. Alliances will form. Betrayals will follow. But in the end, only one student will rise as Primaris—ruler of this year's Court. Leader of the elite. Chosen of the blood."
Selene's brow furrowed. No one had mentioned this trial when she was sent.
Next to her, Matthew's jaw flexed.
"Primaris," she echoed under her breath.
"Vampire royalty," he replied. "Temporary, symbolic, but influential. It's how the Council picks their future favorites. And how Houses settle scores without starting wars."
Her eyes narrowed. "So it's politics dressed as tradition."
"It's a blood sport," he said quietly. "And you just became everyone's favorite target."
A sharp sound echoed—clapping.
Slow. Mocking.
All heads turned.
A figure leaned against a black stone column at the far end of the room. He wore no uniform, no crest. Just a long coat of deep plum and midnight, and a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes. His skin was pale even by vampire standards, and his hair fell in shadowy waves to his shoulders. But it was his eyes—bottomless, coal-black with no whites at all—that stole the breath from the room.
Selene felt something twist in her stomach. Wrong. Everything about him felt wrong.
"Who's that?" she whispered.
"Aurelian Vex," Matthew replied, stiffening. "New transfer. No one knows which House claimed him."
"No House colors. No sigil. Why is he even here?"
"I don't think he's here to study."
Vale's voice sliced the tension. "Discipline. Order. Obedience. These are your commandments. Defy them at your peril."
She raised a hand. A scroll appeared in her palm, unfolding midair.
"Schedules will be distributed now. First Trial begins in three days. Until then—form alliances. Make enemies. Choose your side."
With a wave of her hand, the scroll vanished into sparks.
The hall erupted with murmurs.
Matthew leaned closer. "You'll be swarmed now. Every House will want to test you. Some will challenge you outright. Others will try to use you."
"And you?" she asked, without turning.
"I'm still deciding."
She faced him, eyes cool. "You always play both sides?"
He gave her a slow smile. "Only until I know which one's more fun to burn."
Selene turned away, pulse steady.
She wouldn't be a pawn.
Not for him. Not for the Council. Not for anyone.
As she stepped down from the dais, she felt a sudden chill skitter across her spine.
Aurelian was watching her.
Not like the others.
Like he already knew her.
She moved through the hall with practiced grace, ignoring the hushed voices that trailed behind her like shadows. Her fingers brushed the edge of the schedule parchment that had materialized in her hand, but she didn't read it yet. Instead, her thoughts circled back to the cold, bottomless eyes of Aurelian Vex.
Why had he been watching her like that?
Not with interest.
Not even with hunger.
With recognition.
She didn't know him. She was sure of it. And yet…
You've felt him before.
The thought came unbidden, icy and sharp.
"First class is Combat Theory," Matthew said beside her, breaking her spiraling thoughts. "You'll want to be early. The professor doesn't like newcomers."
Selene turned her head. "Why are you still following me?"
"I'm not," he said smoothly. "I'm walking in the same direction."
She almost smiled.
Almost.
They exited the grand hall and stepped into one of Blackthorn's endless corridors. High-arched ceilings loomed overhead like the bones of some ancient beast. Oil lamps floated midair, casting long shadows on the stone walls. Gargoyle statues watched silently from alcoves, their eyes too lifelike for comfort.
"This place," Selene murmured, "feels like it's alive."
"It is," Matthew replied. "Blackthorn shifts when it wants to. Tests students it deems… unworthy."
"How charming."
They arrived at a wide black door engraved with runes that shimmered faintly when Selene stepped closer. Students were already gathered outside, all of them sizing one another up. Some looked centuries old. Others barely older than her. Every one of them dangerous.
"Raventhorn," a sharp voice called.
Selene turned.
A tall girl with blood-red curls stepped forward, her House crest—Crimson Aegis—shining on her chest. Her eyes gleamed with condescension.
"I thought the pureblood was a myth," the girl said. "But here you are. Real. Arrogant. Alone."
Selene tilted her head, calm as still water. "And you are…?"
"Lilith Merrow," the girl said with a too-sweet smile. "Third-ranked duelist. Future Primaris. And a very bad enemy to make."
Matthew stepped in, voice soft. "She's also a coward who only fights when the odds are in her favor."
Lilith's smile sharpened. "And you're still hiding behind sarcasm, Duskbane. How familiar."
Selene's eyes stayed on Lilith. "You're mistaken," she said coolly. "I'm not alone."
Lilith blinked, just slightly thrown. Then her gaze flicked between the two of them. "We'll see how long that lasts."
The doors creaked open with a low groan, spilling torchlight across the hall. The class began to file inside.
Matthew waited until Lilith had stalked off before speaking again. "That was bold."
"She threatened me."
"She threatened you politely," he said with amusement. "There's a difference."
"She'll regret it either way."
His grin was sharper this time. "You're going to fit in just fine, Raventhorn."
Inside the classroom, rows of ancient weapons lined the stone walls—swords, scythes, glaives, and stranger things that pulsed faintly with enchantments. The professor, a broad-shouldered male vampire with one black eye and one silver, stood at the center of the room. Scars laced his throat like a necklace.
He didn't introduce himself.
He simply said, "Today we learn how not to die. Pair off."
Selene looked toward Matthew, but he was already stepping away.
To her surprise, he gestured toward Lilith. "You'll want to test yourself properly, Raventhorn. Try someone with actual skill."
Lilith smiled with bloodthirsty delight.
Oh. So that was the game.
Selene pulled her hair into a loose knot, stepped onto the dueling floor, and faced Lilith Merrow with ice in her veins.
"I hope you're not too fragile," Lilith said.
Selene smiled.
And then she struck first.