The weight of the book was heavier than Cora remembered. Not physically, but something else pressed down on her chest as she lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. The old leather-bound volume pulsed with an eerie stillness against her chest, the scent of aged parchment and forgotten ink clinging to it like a ghost.
She didn't understand who had written it—or why the pages seemed to breathe with secrets—but as questions clawed at her mind, Cora stuffed the book beneath her pillow, its corners brushing against her cheek like icy fingertips.
"Show me what is being hidden," she whispered, breath catching in her throat.
Far beyond the campus grounds, where the cliffs met the churning, moonlit sea, something stirred beneath the waves. The water frothed as a grotesque silhouette breached the surface. The creature's hide glistened under the pale moonlight—scaled, misshapen, dripping salt and rot. It released a low, guttural growl, sharp claws slicing through water as it climbed ashore.
Its eyes, glowing a molten gold, scanned the university with unholy precision, nostrils flaring as it sniffed the air. Something—or someone—was calling it.
A figure emerged from the shadows near the rocky shoreline, draped in a white cloak that fluttered in the breeze like a phantom's wings. The figure knelt, pressed a hand to the beast's head, and whispered a chant too ancient to be caught by the wind. The creature stilled, its growl ceasing, as if awaiting further command.
And then, silence.
The morning light came too early, casting a pale, ghostly hue over the campus grounds. But the sunlight brought no comfort.
Cora stood frozen among the gathering crowd outside the eastern dormitory building. Her heart pounded as her eyes took in the gruesome sight before her—a boy, no older than eighteen, mutilated beyond recognition. Flesh torn in chunks. Blood soaked into the grass, pooling like red ink. Organs spilled across the ground, glinting under the sun like butchered meat.
Amelia gagged beside her, face ashen. "Oh my god… what happened to him?" someone whispered nearby, the tremble in their voice like a thread about to snap.
"This place isn't safe," Amelia whispered, clinging tightly to Cora's arm, her knuckles white.
Cora couldn't respond. Her voice had abandoned her, just like reason had abandoned this place.
The crowd parted as the dean and Professor Graves arrived. Their faces were drawn, grim, but it was the way their gazes lingered on the corpse that made Cora's stomach twist. Like they knew something.
Moments later, Damien appeared.
He didn't walk—he prowled. Flanked by Leonard and Maximilian, he strode into the chaos as though it were a runway, his presence drawing stares and silencing whispers. His black coat fluttered behind him, his silver cufflinks gleaming. A smug tilt played at his lips as he surveyed the scene, entirely unfazed.
"Whoever did this," he murmured, voice low and mocking, "clearly doesn't care for subtlety. Or consequences."
The dean turned sharply. "Everyone return to your dormitories immediately."
The students began to shuffle away, murmuring nervously. But before Cora could move, a familiar hand wrapped around her wrist.
Damien.
He tugged her back with that maddening ease, stepping into her space until all she could see was the glint in his eyes.
"Are you alright?" he asked, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear with maddening intimacy.
His fingers were cool, his gaze hotter. Cocky. Possessive.
"No," she whispered, voice brittle. Her mind spun. The scene .The whispers. The blood.
Was it the night creatures? Or was something else awakening?
"I'll come find you later," Damien said, that smirk of his sliding back onto his face like a second skin. "Don't go running wandering, little bird. Stay in your dormitory ." His fingers brushed her mask slightly.
Cora blinked at him, heart thundering.
He let go, turning away before she could say another word.
Amelia, meanwhile, was suffering her own torment. She clutched her chest, glaring at her own heart as if it had betrayed her. Why the hell was it racing for Leonard? Of all people. Even in a situation this grotesque.
She turned, face flushed, only to catch his gaze, looking past her .
Leonard wasn't looking at her.
He was staring at Roseline, who stood near the trees with a faint smile. Amelia's stomach twisted.
"Ugh, idiot," she hissed, tightening her grip on Cora's hand before dragging her away from the scene like she was escaping humiliation itself.
The courtyard emptied, leaving only the professors, who were all night creatures t, and Damien's small circle. The dean turned to them, his eyes dark and unreadable.
"This… doesn't look like the work of a normal night creature," Professor Elton said, eyes narrowed. "Not unless it's gone completely feral."
Another professor muttered, arms crossed, leaned in. "You're not telling us something," he said bluntly. "Even we can sense it."
The dean didn't respond directly. "I've decided to bring the midterm break forward. Effective immediately."
Damien raised a brow, unimpressed. "How generous of you."
The dean ignored him. "Before students leave, I want all night creatures and humans to gather in the Great Hall. Every last one. We need hypnotize them to forget everything."
The other professors murmured agreements before scattering to begin preparations.
As they left, Damien walked toward the bloodied patch of grass. His shoes crunched on dried leaves and bone fragments as he crouched beside the remains.
He stared at them, not in horror—but in calculation.
"This wasn't just an attack," he said aloud, fingers brushing a strange, charred symbol etched into the ground beside the body. "It's a message."
Leonard exhaled slowly, scanning the area. "Whoever summoned it… they're here. On this campus."
Back in the dormitory, the unease hadn't left Cora's chest.
She sat curled on her bed, knees pulled to her chest, her eyes fixated on her door. The book still rested under her pillow like a sleeping demon. Her thoughts were a cyclone—too many things didn't add up.
Was the it a vampire that had done that ? Or was it something else?
The sound of her phone buzzing startled her.
Evelyn: There's something I need to tell you.
Cora's heart stilled.
She tapped the call button immediately, her hands clammy. It rang once before her mother answered.
"Cora," Evelyn whispered, voice hoarse. Urgent.
"When is your break?"
"Next week," Cora replied, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Is there any other way for you to leave the island before then?"
Cora paused. "Not unless I sneak out which is impossible since I'm surrounded by water. Why? What's going on?"
There was a pause on the other end—long enough to spike Cora's anxiety.
"Just get back as soon as you can. Promise me."
"Mom, you're scaring me—"
The line cut.
Cora stared at the screen, heart pounding. Her mother never called without asking how she was. She never sounded afraid.
Something was very, very wrong.
And Cora was terrified to find out what.