[©Lynnifer Ice – March 2026]
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Aron didn't answer me right away. The room fell strangely quiet, broken only by the soft scrape of someone shifting their weight behind me. A nearby stool creaked, and the faint hum of the overhead lights filled the silence between us.
He studied me with an expression halfway between disbelief and fascination, like I'd just rewritten the laws of physics without meaning to.
"How do I figure?" he echoed, tilting his head. "Because no human should be standing upright right now, let alone asking follow‑up questions."
I blinked, unsure whether I should feel insulted or concerned. The others exchanged glances — quick, unreadable looks that made my stomach tighten. Whatever explanation Aron was circling around, it clearly wasn't something they expected.
He let out a slow breath. "Honestly? You shouldn't be this calm. That alone is… well, extraordinary."
I wasn't sure I liked the sound of that.
My expression must have shifted, because Liam stepped into view on my left, his eyes narrowing slightly as he examined me like I was a puzzle piece that didn't fit the way it should.
"Interesting… your pulse didn't even spike," he murmured, mostly to himself. "Most people would still be shaking after something like that."
His observation didn't bother me, but it made me suddenly aware of the others watching me just as closely.
Aron was still staring at me as if I'd sprouted wings and horns.
His mismatched expression — awe tangled with suspicion — was so intense I thought he might actually forget how to blink. "Humans don't… do that," he finally muttered under his breath, scratching the back of his neck as if trying to physically massage an explanation into his skull.
"I'll second that," Sasi chimed in, arms crossed, brows furrowed. "A normal person would be passed out for, what, hours? Maybe a full day." He squinted, leaning closer like he was inspecting a crime scene. "But you? You look like someone who just woke up from a power nap after a spa day."
I raised an eyebrow. "I feel fine. Mostly."
That was only partially true. Deep inside, some faint echo of Xinith's pain still pulsed — distant, like a memory of a nightmare instead of an injury. But compared to what I'd felt moments earlier? It was nothing. A mild shiver. A whisper.
Blake hadn't taken his eyes off me, either. He stepped forward slowly, deliberately, like someone approaching a cornered animal — or a miracle they didn't fully trust yet.
"It took months," he said quietly, "months, for the first marked couples I've met to feel even surface-level emotions of their partner. And that was with full consent, established connection, shared energy, mutual acceptance…" His crimson eyes glimmered with something I couldn't identify — fear, maybe. Or worry. "But you connected through him during a battle."
"That shouldn't be possible," Liam added. "The ritual I used wasn't meant to link you — just to show you what he was seeing. It shouldn't have let you feel him." He hesitated. "Or stabilize him."
My stomach dropped. "Stabilize… him?"
Liam exchanged a look with Blake before sighing. "When I got there, Xinith was already half-delirious. The moment your mind touched his, he snapped back like someone threw water on him." He rubbed his temple. "He shouldn't have been able to fight in that condition. But he did."
The room went silent again.
Aron's voice cut through it like a hesitant knife. "You healed way too fast from the backlash, Alex." His tone was softer, unusually gentle. "Even a demon would've needed hours." He knelt in front of me, eyes scanning my face as if searching for something invisible. "Whatever you are… you're not just human."
My heart skipped.
"I am human," I said sharply. "Last I checked, I don't have fangs or claws or— or— whatever the hell you people have." My hands curled into fists. "I bleed. I bruise. I panic. Humans do that."
"Humans don't share a demon's pain and stay sane," Blake countered quietly. "Humans don't mend in minutes. Humans don't pull someone back from the brink by pure instinct." He inhaled slowly, eyes softening — almost apologetically. "Your body reacts like it's… remembering how."
"Remembering what?" I snapped.
No one answered.
The silence wrapped around us like a living thing — thick and suffocating.
Then footsteps echoed from the hall.
Heavy. Familiar. And limping.
Everyone's heads snapped toward the doorway at once.
I didn't have to see him to know who it was. I felt the shift in the air — a tug deep inside my chest, like gravity had suddenly chosen a new center.
Xinith stepped into the doorway.
His silver eyes were dimmer than usual, but still glowing faintly — like embers struggling against ash. His shirt was gone, replaced by bandages barely holding together across his torso, stained dark with blood. His hair was messy, damp, clinging to his forehead.
But his expression… His expression was something I had never seen on his face before.
Fear.
Not for himself.
For me.
Everyone froze as he staggered forward a step, then steadied himself on the doorframe.
"Alex…" His voice was ragged. Broken at the edges. "You felt everything?"
I couldn't move.
Xinith's jaw tightened. "You connected to me. Not through the ritual — through the mark." His eyes flickered to the others. "No human should survive that, but I'm glad you did."
The room tensed. No one breathed.
Then his gaze fell on me again — softer, but trembling.
"Tell me…" He swallowed, chest rising sharply. "…what are you?"
I felt the world tilt sideways.
My mouth opened.
Closed.
"I— I don't know," I whispered.
Xinith took a step toward me.
And every vampire in the room stepped in front of him at once.
Not aggressively.
Not threateningly.
Just… protectively.
Against him.
For me.
Xinith froze, jaw clenching. "Move."
Liam spoke first, voice low and steady. "Not until we know she's safe."
Xinith's pupils thinned into razor slits. "She's safest with me," he hissed — and the lights flickered as if the building itself felt his anger.
Sasi cleared his throat loudly. "Yeah, sorry, but after you nearly got her killed? We're all voting 'no' on that."
Xinith looked like he might actually tear the walls down.
I stood up — slowly, carefully — ignoring every instinct telling me I should not be able to stand after everything that happened.
The room went dead silent.
"Enough."
The word wasn't loud. It didn't need to be.
Everyone turned to me.
Xinith's eyes widened just a fraction — a crack in the emotional armor he always wore.
"I'm not a porcelain doll," I said, voice firmer than I expected. "I won't be fought over like a prize. I'm alive, I'm standing, and I'm not choosing sides in a war I didn't start."
The boys exchanged uneasy glances.
I took a breath and then I turned toward Xinith.
"But I do want answers."
The air shifted.
Xinith straightened, wincing, but didn't look away. "Then ask," he said, voice softer. "Anything."
My heart hammered.
Because I finally understood the worst part of all this —the thing gnawing at me like a beast in the dark.
It wasn't the pain.
It wasn't the connection.
It wasn't even the supernatural insanity swirling around my life.
It was the fear sitting in the pit of my stomach:
What if I didn't want the answers?
What if I already knew them?
My voice came out quiet. "…What am I?"
Xinith's expression shattered. And he whispered something so soft, I almost didn't hear it:
"Not what. Who."
The room inhaled sharply.
Before I could ask what he meant—
A thunderous knock shook the dorm. Three slow, bone-deep thuds that rattled the air.
Everyone froze.
Liam's eyes widened. "That's—"
The door creaked. A voice drifted through the wood.
Deep.
Ancient.
And far too calm.
"Open the door. I believe the girl deserves to know the truth."
My blood ran cold. I knew that voice.
The Headmaster.
And he did not sound pleased.
End of Chapter Twenty‑Eight