Chapter 21 – "The Shadow and the Flame"
The air that night felt strange — not cold, not warm, just… aware.
Every whisper of the wind seemed to follow Lyra like an unfinished sentence.
Sleep was impossible.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw *it* — the wraith dissolving into her flames, the way Aiden's hand had seized her wrist, his voice low and fierce:
> "You weren't supposed to destroy it."
That sentence had lived in her head for days.
Why *not*?
The creature was dangerous, wasn't it?
Then why had Aiden looked more afraid *after* it vanished?
---
She stepped outside the dorm just before dawn, barefoot on the dew-soaked stone.
The courtyard was empty, bathed in pale light.
That was when she saw him — Aiden Vale, standing beneath the archway, his coat unbuttoned, eyes shadowed.
"You shouldn't be awake," he said softly, without turning.
"I could say the same," Lyra replied.
He gave a faint smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You've been dreaming again."
She didn't ask how he knew. He always knew.
"I saw the Wraith. It wasn't angry this time," she murmured. "It spoke. It said I'd burned *myself*."
Aiden's silence was answer enough.
She stepped closer. "What was it, really?"
"The Wraith," he said slowly, "wasn't a beast from outside. It was drawn to your flame — because it was part of it. A shard of the Queen's last binding."
"My mother's?"
He nodded. "When the Queen sealed the throne's curse, she divided her essence — one half to protect the crown, the other hidden inside her bloodline. You carry what remains of that flame, Lyra. The Wraith was the shadow she left behind to keep it dormant."
Lyra froze. "So I didn't kill it…"
"No," Aiden said softly. "You woke it. And that's what scares me."
---
She looked away, her hands trembling. "Then why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"Because you weren't ready to hear it," he said simply.
He hesitated, then added quietly, "And because not every truth belongs to you yet."
Something in his tone made her look up sharply. "You mean there's more."
Aiden's jaw tightened. For a moment, he seemed to fight himself.
Finally, he said, "There are names the Council forbade me to speak. Lives they ordered me to erase from your memory — for your safety."
Her heart thudded. "Whose lives?"
He turned away. "You had a brother."
The words struck like thunder, though whispered.
Lyra's breath caught. "Had?"
"He lives," Aiden said, his voice controlled but strained. "But he does not remember you. The Council erased your bond from his mind. He believes himself the last heir — and they intend to keep it that way."
Lyra took a step back, shaking her head. "You knew… all this time?"
"I swore to protect you both," Aiden said quietly. "And the only way to keep that oath was to keep you apart."
The silence that followed felt heavier than any storm.
---
Before either could speak again, a familiar ripple brushed the air — a shadow flickering like smoke.
"Touching," a lazy voice drawled. "The commander's bedtime confessions are getting dramatic."
Ceal stepped out from the courtyard's edge, grinning as moonlight caught his silver ringed eyes.
"Ceal," Aiden warned, his tone clipped.
"Relax," Ceal said, stretching. "Just checking if our little flame's still intact. Word in the Veil says her spark nearly tore a hole in the balance last week."
Lyra glared at him. "You knew about the Wraith?"
Ceal smirked. "Know it? I've *seen* it, Lady Varelle. That thing's your mother's echo. I'd bow if it didn't try to eat me once."
Aiden's eyes narrowed. "You talk too much."
"And you hide too much," Ceal countered, stepping closer. "She'll find the truth eventually, Commander. Maybe not from me, maybe not from you — but secrets don't stay buried forever."
Aiden moved in a blur — his hand gripping Ceal's collar. "Enough."
Ceal only smiled, unbothered. "Careful. The girl's watching."
Lyra's voice broke through the tension. "Both of you, stop."
They froze. Her tone wasn't loud — just steady, clear, commanding.
For a heartbeat, both men seemed to recognize something in her voice that reminded them of someone long gone.
The Queen.
---
Ceal chuckled, stepping back. "There it is. That tone. You really are her daughter."
He looked at Aiden with a wink. "Don't frown, Vale. I'm not here to ruin your little secret garden. Just thought I'd remind you — shadows move faster than orders. And some of us like to see where the fire leads."
Before either could stop him, Ceal vanished again — dissolving into mist, his laughter echoing faintly across the courtyard.
---
Lyra turned to Aiden, her voice barely above a whisper. "He knows something else, doesn't he?"
Aiden's expression was unreadable. "He always does. But Ceal's loyalty runs deeper than his words. Don't fear him."
"I don't fear him," she said. "I fear what everyone's hiding *for* me."
Aiden's gaze softened. "Then let me teach you how to stand when those truths come for you. Not as a human. Not as a Queen's daughter. But as *yourself*."
He extended his hand. "Tomorrow at dawn. The flame needs guidance before it consumes the host."
Lyra hesitated — then took it.
His touch was cool, grounding.
And for the first time since her awakening, she felt something solid beneath the chaos — the faint rhythm of control.
---
That night, when she returned to her room, the reflection in her mirror flickered again.
A child's face. Silver eyes. A whisper carried by wind.
> "Sleep, sister. Someday I'll remember."
Lyra closed her eyes.
For the first time, she didn't wake in fear.
She woke ready.
---
Chapter 22 – "Veilfire"
The world was quiet before dawn.
Mist floated through the courtyard like pale smoke, curling around the training field behind the old chapel — the only place on campus where the wards blurred between human and vampire ground.
Lyra stood barefoot on the cold grass, eyes half-closed, as faint embers coiled from her fingertips. Aiden stood opposite her, watching with a calm that could've been carved from marble.
"Focus on rhythm," he said softly. "Not control. Power obeys harmony before command."
Lyra frowned. "That sounds like something Ceal would say before setting the field on fire."
"Ceal doesn't teach, he provokes," Aiden replied. "I'm asking you to listen."
She exhaled — slow, steady — and opened her hands.
A faint crimson light gathered at her palms, flickering like candle flame. For a moment, it danced beautifully — until it twisted, bursting into wild arcs that scorched the grass around her.
Lyra stumbled back, gasping. "It won't listen!"
Aiden moved fast, catching her wrists in one hand and pressing his other palm against her heart.
The flame steadied instantly.
"You're trying to suppress it," he said quietly. "The flame isn't your enemy, Lyra. It's a memory — your mother's, your bloodline's. Let it breathe through you."
Their eyes met, crimson to gold.
For an instant, she felt something raw — the echo of centuries of loyalty and grief locked behind his calm.
Then she felt the hunger rise.
The heat crawling up her throat wasn't just power — it was *craving.*
The pulse of blood beneath Aiden's hand, the steady rhythm in his veins — it called to her like music.
Lyra's lips parted before she realized what she was doing.
Aiden didn't move. "Lyra—"
"I can't—" she whispered, trembling. Her fangs grazed the air between them — close, too close.
The scent of him, the memory of the Queen's blood in his veins — it wasn't hunger anymore. It was something older, instinctive, terrifying.
Then suddenly, she pushed herself away — the flame extinguished in a burst of red mist.
Aiden exhaled slowly. "You stopped yourself."
Lyra's voice shook. "Barely."
"That's what growth feels like." He smiled faintly, but there was pride hidden behind it — the kind that came only after fear.
---
Later that morning, Mira sat at their shared dorm desk, chin in hand, scribbling in her mythology notebook.
"So… vampires, ancient bloodlines, cursed flames," she muttered, ticking each point. "You know, this is *exactly* the kind of nonsense I'd love to write about — if it wasn't my roommate's biography."
Lyra laughed softly. "You're taking this better than I expected."
Mira looked up with a grin. "Please, Lyra. I've been obsessed with weird legends since I was ten. I was *born* for this chaos."
Then her expression softened. "I won't tell anyone. I promise. Just… don't leave me out of it, okay?"
Lyra felt something stir in her chest — that quiet warmth again. "You're impossible to leave out."
Mira grinned — and that's when the door opened.
Ryn leaned against the frame, arms crossed, an expression that was equal parts annoyance and smug amusement. "Human, your aura's leaking again. It's messing with the wards."
Mira frowned. "Excuse me, *what* about my aura?"
Ryn smirked. "You radiate chaos. It's distracting."
"Oh, I'm sorry," she said sweetly. "Next time I'll dim my personality so your ancient vampire ego can breathe."
Solen's muffled laughter echoed from the hallway. "I like her," he called.
Ryn scowled. "You would."
Lyra sighed, amused. "Children."
"Commander's orders," Ryn said, pretending to ignore Mira's glare. "He wants the area cleared for tonight's ward reinforcement. Human stays inside."
"I'm not staying anywhere," Mira snapped. "If Lyra's training, I'm watching."
"You'll get in the way."
"And you'll get on my nerves."
They glared at each other — sparks practically visible in the air. Lyra couldn't help but smile.
Aiden appeared at the end of the hall, his calm presence instantly cooling the tension. "Ryn. Enough. Mira stays. She's immune to the Veil — she might notice what we can't."
Ryn sighed but bowed. "As you wish, Commander."
Mira smirked. "See? Some of us actually *listen.*"
Ryn muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Barely human troublemaker."
Lyra laughed quietly.
For the first time since her awakening, the dorm didn't feel like a cage. It felt like a beginning — flawed, fragile, but real.
---
That night, when the wards shimmered over the academy's sky, Lyra sat by the window, watching the crimson light ripple through the mist.
Somewhere beyond the Veil, far in the northern citadel, **Lioren** stirred from restless dreams — crimson sigils flickering across his notes.
He didn't know why his heart ached, or why the same girl's voice kept whispering through his sleep:
> *"It's not over yet."*
---
Chapter 23 – "Threads of Hunger"
The rain had a way of softening everything — footsteps, laughter, even the loneliness that clung to the dorm halls like fog.
It was one of those quiet evenings when Mira found herself running through the campus courtyard, clutching her books against her chest as thunder rolled above.
She ducked under the library awning — and slammed straight into someone.
"Watch where you're—" she began, but stopped when she saw *who* it was.
Ryn.
His silver eyes flickered, unamused, as he brushed rain off his dark jacket.
"Humans," he muttered. "Always rushing into trouble."
Mira narrowed her eyes. "And vampires always standing in the way of exits?"
He blinked — slow, deliberate — then gave a small, infuriating smile. "You remembered."
"Oh, trust me," she snapped, "forgetting you would be a blessing."
He tilted his head. "You talk too much for someone who doesn't understand the danger around her."
"Danger?" she laughed bitterly. "You mean *your commander's secrecy?* Or the monsters sneaking through the Veil that no one will explain?"
His smile vanished. "You shouldn't ask questions you're not ready to hear answers to."
"Then stop hiding them!" she shot back.
They stood there for a long moment — rain pouring between them like a wall. Ryn's jaw tightened, and without another word, he turned away into the mist.
Mira glared after him, angry at how his silence hurt more than his words. She didn't know why she cared. Maybe because every time she looked at Lyra, she saw someone carrying a weight too similar — someone always surrounded by people yet completely *alone.*
---
The next morning, Lyra sat by the cafeteria window, watching students chatter around tables that never seemed to have space for her.
She smiled at them — that bright, easy smile she had perfected over years of pretending.
To anyone watching, she was the cheerful girl who hummed songs while sketching in her notebook.
But to Mira, she was the quiet heart behind the mask.
When Mira joined her with a tray of half-burnt toast, Lyra looked up. "You look like you fought a storm."
"Ran into one," Mira said dryly. "And a vampire with no manners."
Lyra smirked. "Ryn?"
"Do you have *more* rude friends I should be aware of?"
"Possibly," Lyra teased, then her voice softened. "He means well. They all do. They just… don't understand how to act human."
"Maybe they don't *want* to," Mira muttered, stabbing her toast.
Lyra looked out the window again, voice distant. "Maybe that's why I stayed human so long."
There was something wistful in her tone — like a shadow of a life she wasn't supposed to have.
Mira leaned closer. "Lyra… can I ask you something?"
Lyra turned. "Anything."
"You act like you don't care what people think. But—why's it always just me? You could have anyone as a friend."
Lyra hesitated — her fingers tightening around her cup. "Because I used to try," she said quietly. "But being poor in a place like this? It's like being invisible until someone needs answers from your homework."
Her eyes softened. "You didn't look at me like that. You stayed."
Mira smiled faintly. "Well, somebody has to make sure you don't burn the dorm down."
Lyra chuckled, but it didn't reach her eyes.
---
That evening, Lyra found herself walking beside Aiden through the old cloister near the main chapel, where the Veil shimmered faintly along the stone arches.
"You knew him, didn't you?" she asked softly.
Aiden glanced sideways. "Who?"
"My brother. Lioren."
He didn't answer.
"Aiden," she pressed, "you were my mother's commander. You must have known him."
He stopped, turning toward her — his expression unreadable under the flicker of lamplight. "There are truths that could shatter the peace you have now."
"So that's a yes," she said bitterly.
Aiden exhaled, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's not my place to speak of him. Not yet."
Lyra looked away, fighting the ache building in her chest. "You always say *not yet.* When does *yet* ever come?"
"When your heart can bear it," he said.
Something inside her cracked — quiet, small, but deep.
She turned to leave, her voice trembling just enough to betray her composure. "Then maybe stop treating me like I'm fragile."
The echo of her footsteps faded into the night, leaving Aiden alone under the cold light of the Veil. He closed his eyes, remembering a small boy with silver eyes and a voice that once called him *brother's shield.*
The Queen's order echoed faintly in his mind —
> *He must never know she lives. For his sake. For hers.*
And Aiden whispered into the silence,
> "Forgive me, Lioren. Forgive me, Lyra."
---
Chapter 24 – "Echoes of the Bloodline"
The storm had passed, but the air still smelled of metal and lightning — as if something ancient had bled into the night.
Lyra woke before dawn, her mind heavy with fragments she didn't remember dreaming — a boy's laughter echoing through marble halls, a hand reaching for hers through firelight, a voice whispering her name in a language older than the stars.
When she sat up, Mira was still asleep beside her, tangled in sheets, a faint smile softening her face. The sight steadied her — for a moment. Then the hum began.
It started low, like the vibration of glass.
She pressed her palms to her temples. The Veil — the boundary Aiden had warned her not to touch — was *singing* to her.
And deep within that song, she heard something else.
A name.
> *Lioren.*
Her heart stopped.
---
Across the campus courtyard, Ryn was already awake, training in the empty basketball court. The neon lights buzzed faintly above him, slicing through the morning haze.
He sensed it first — the shift.
Power. Faint but real.
And not from Aiden.
He dropped the ball, his eyes narrowing toward the dormitory windows. "She's stirring again."
A sudden ripple in the air answered him — and from that shimmer, a figure emerged, all in silver and black.
"Ceal."
Ryn's voice turned sharp.
Ceal grinned — that infuriating, playful grin that never quite reached his eyes. "Still as humorless as ever, I see."
"You weren't supposed to be here."
"Ah, but when the Queen's flame starts humming, even the dead start listening," Ceal said, twirling a blade that dissolved into mist. "I came to check if your commander forgot how to keep a leash on destiny."
Ryn stepped forward, ready to strike — but Aiden's voice cut through the dawn before he could move.
"Enough."
The commander's presence seemed to still the air itself.
He stood a few feet away, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
"Ceal," he said evenly. "You were ordered to remain in the Lower Shadows."
Ceal bowed mockingly. "And yet, here I am — summoned not by disobedience, but by blood. You feel it too, don't you?"
Aiden's jaw tensed. "It's too soon."
"Tell that to *her,*" Ceal said softly. "The bond's already whispering. If she keeps pulling, the boy will hear."
Aiden's silence was answer enough.
Ceal smiled — not cruelly, but almost wistfully. "You can't protect them both, Commander. Not forever."
Then he vanished into shadow, leaving behind only the echo of laughter that didn't belong to the living.
---
Later that day, Lyra tried to shake the unease. Mira had dragged her to the courtyard, claiming fresh air might stop her "thinking herself into headaches."
Students bustled around, gossiping about the upcoming inter-dorm basketball match — an event that somehow involved half the campus and all of Mira's enthusiasm.
"C'mon, Lyra, you promised to watch!"
"I said *maybe*," Lyra murmured, clutching her notebook.
Mira tugged her sleeve. "You need a break from all this brooding. Besides, maybe that stoic commander of yours will play."
Lyra snorted. "Aiden? He'd rather read military codes than throw a ball."
Mira grinned. "Then maybe I'll make Ryn play. He owes me an apology anyway."
Lyra arched a brow. "What happened *this* time?"
"He was rude."
"Ryn's always rude."
"This time he called me a 'reckless mortal liability.'"
Lyra bit back a laugh. "He's not wrong."
Mira gasped, mock offended. "Et tu, Lyra?"
Their laughter drew a few glances, but Lyra didn't care. For a while, she felt *normal* again — until the Veil's hum returned, faint and trembling, like a thread tugging at her chest.
She looked up.
And across the veil of space and shadow — in a realm she had never visited but somehow remembered — *Lioren* turned his head.
The mirror pool before him rippled.
He saw nothing, but he *felt* her — a warmth brushing the edge of his consciousness.
He frowned, whispering to himself,
> "That song… it's hers."
Then, from behind him, a cold voice answered —
> "Forget her, Lioren. That world is forbidden."
He looked back at the Council's guards, eyes burning with something far older than obedience.
> "Then why does the blood remember?"
The pool flashed once — and shattered.
---
Back at the Academy, Lyra flinched, clutching her chest.
Aiden was beside her in an instant. "Lyra, what did you do?"
She met his gaze, her voice trembling. "I… I didn't do anything. I just *heard* him."
Aiden's breath caught. For the first time, Lyra saw fear flicker in his eyes — not for himself, but for *her.*
"The bond's awakening," he whispered. "And if it does… nothing will keep the realms apart."
---
Chapter 25 – "The Song Beneath the Veil"
The library of A
rdent Academy was quieter than usual that afternoon — shelves stretching like dark ribs, sunlight spilling through tall windows in thin, trembling beams.
Lyra sat near the end of a long oak table, chin propped in her palm as she flipped through a heavy book on old vampire clans. Mira sat opposite her, surrounded by notes and half-eaten apple slices, grumbling under her breath.
"These myths are wild," Mira said. "A blood moon that sings? A sword that drinks fear? Humans really wrote this stuff?"
Lyra chuckled softly, her tone distant. "Sometimes myths are just memories with bad translations."
Mira looked up. "You say that like you know."
Before Lyra could answer, a shadow fell over the table.
"Careful with that book," a familiar, deep voice said — calm, lightly teasing. "It bites."
Mira blinked, startled. "Aiden? You're early—"
She turned, and froze.
The man standing there wasn't Aiden — but he could've been his mirror. Same silver hair, same crimson eyes — only warmer, mischievous. He wore a long black coat instead of a uniform, and his smile was the kind that could both charm and unnerve.
"I—uh—you're…" Mira's brain scrambled. "You're him, right? Commander Stoneface?"
He grinned. "Ah, my reputation precedes me. Though personally, I prefer 'devastatingly handsome scholar.'"
Lyra's lips twitched. "Ceal."
"Lyra," he greeted smoothly, ignoring Mira's confusion. "You've been hiding from me."
Mira's eyes darted between them. "Wait. Ceal? Like—Aiden's twin?"
Ceal turned toward her, mock offended. "Twin? Ouch. I'm the original model; he's just the limited edition."
Mira blinked, looking him up and down. "You're joking. You look exactly alike."
"Do we?" Ceal leaned closer, lowering his voice playfully. "He frowns. I don't."
Mira leaned back, eyes wide. "You definitely do something."
Lyra pressed her lips together, fighting a laugh. She knew Aiden wouldn't find this amusing — which only made it funnier.
Ceal walked around the table, his eyes scanning Mira's open notes. "So… mythology? How quaint."
Mira crossed her arms. "It's part of the assignment."
"Oh, I'm not judging," he said, flipping through her drawings. "Impressive sketchwork. Although," he tapped a page showing a shadowed creature, "you drew this wraith wrong. Too many teeth."
Her eyebrows shot up. "You know wraiths?"
"Intimately," Ceal replied with a mysterious grin. "They used to scream at me when I was little."
Mira stared. "That's not comforting."
"It wasn't meant to be," Ceal murmured, scribbling something in his little black notebook.
Mira leaned forward. "What are you writing?"
"Observations," he said simply. "Human behavior in stressful situations."
Mira frowned. "You're researching me?!"
"Technically, yes." He smiled. "You're the only human who didn't faint at the Veil rupture. That makes you fascinating."
Mira's mouth fell open. "You can't just—observe people without asking!"
Ceal paused, thoughtful. "You're right."
Then he tilted his head. "May I?"
"NO!"
Lyra choked on her laughter.
As Ceal wandered off to "take atmospheric readings," Mira dropped her face into her hands. "I don't get it. Why does Aiden's twin act like a mad scientist?"
Lyra smiled faintly. "Because he is."
"Why didn't you warn me?"
Lyra's eyes gleamed with mischief. "Because you wouldn't have believed me."
Later that evening, when Aiden returned from the training grounds, Lyra mentioned the encounter — casually, as if it were nothing.
Aiden stopped mid-step, his tone sharpening.
"He talked to Mira?"
Lyra hesitated. "He… might have interviewed her."
"Of course he did." Aiden's jaw tightened. "Ceal's curiosity is dangerous, Lyra. He doesn't see people — just puzzles."
She frowned. "He didn't hurt anyone."
"Not yet." His voice softened, almost regretful. "But stay away when he starts smiling like he knows something you don't."
Lyra didn't answer. In truth, she'd already noticed that smile — and the strange way Ceal had looked at Mira's faint wraith-burn as if it meant more than either of them understood.
As Aiden walked away, the air between them felt heavier — like something unseen had shifted.
And though Lyra told herself she'd be careful, she couldn't ignore the quiet, thrilling curiosity that whispered beneath her chest.
That night, Ceal sat alone in the west tower, flipping through his notebook under a flickering lamp.
On one page, he'd drawn Mira's face beside a faint scar — the same mark the wraiths used to leave on ancient seers.
He smiled faintly, murmuring to himself:
"So the veil remembers her too…"
Then the lamp went out.
----
Chapter 26 – "The Twin's Game"
Morning came with the faint scent of rain still clinging to the air. The academy grounds shimmered with dew, and the world looked deceptively calm — as if nothing strange had happened the day before.
But Lyra could tell something had.
Whispers followed them down every hallway — about the storm that came out of nowhere, the shadow that had flickered across the east tower windows, and the "new professor" who looked suspiciously like Commander Vale.
"I told you he was weird," Mira muttered, clutching her notebook. "He showed up, insulted my drawings, then vanished mid-sentence. Who even does that?"
Lyra tried not to laugh. "Ceal does that."
"Yeah, well, Ceal owes me an apology and maybe therapy bills," Mira huffed.
Ryn, who was walking beside them, raised an eyebrow. "Wait — Ceal? As in that Ceal?"
Lyra looked at him curiously. "You know him?"
Ryn scoffed. "Everyone in the old guard knows Ceal. He's Aiden's shadow that refuses to stay buried."
Mira frowned. "Shadow?"
"He's brilliant," Ryn said, rolling his eyes. "And impossible. Imagine Aiden, but with ten times the chaos and none of the discipline."
Lyra smiled faintly. "That sounds… accurate."
They reached the courtyard, where Ceal was — of course — standing on top of a stone bench, tossing a coin and addressing a small crowd of curious students.
"Hypothetically speaking," Ceal said, eyes gleaming, "if a vampire could mimic human emotion perfectly, would that make them more or less human than the people pretending to be normal every day?"
Half the audience blinked in confusion. The other half looked uncomfortable.
Mira groaned. "He's giving philosophy lectures now?"
"Unofficially," Ryn muttered. "And that's my bench."
Lyra tried not to smile as they approached. "Ceal, what are you doing?"
"Research," he replied smoothly, flipping the coin again. "Humans fascinate me. Especially your friend."
Mira froze. "Oh no. No, no. Don't you research me again."
"Relax," Ceal said, grinning. "I'm only observing behavioral responses to mild irritation."
Ryn stepped between them. "Back off, professor. She's not your lab rat."
Ceal tilted his head, amused. "Protective, aren't you?"
"She's a guest in this world," Ryn snapped. "Not your experiment."
For a heartbeat, Ceal's eyes lost their playfulness. "You talk like you understand this world," he said softly — too softly. "But you still flinch when it breathes near you."
Ryn's jaw tightened, and for a moment, the air between them felt electric. Lyra quickly stepped forward.
"Enough," she said. "Ceal, stop provoking people."
Ceal looked at her, smile fading just a little. "You sound more like him every day."
She blinked. "Like who?"
"Aiden," he said simply — then hopped down from the bench. "Tell him I said hello. Or don't. He won't like it either way."
That evening, Aiden found them in the training yard — Lyra sparring with Ryn while Mira watched from the railing, cheering.
"Careful, Ryn!" Mira shouted. "She's going to—"
Wham.
Ryn hit the ground, groaning.
"—do that," Mira finished weakly.
Lyra laughed, helping him up. "You need to stop overthinking."
"Easy for you to say," he muttered, dusting himself off.
Then his eyes flicked over her shoulder — and his face changed. "Oh no."
Ceal was leaning casually against the pillar, clapping slowly. "Impressive form. Unpolished. But I see traces of her lineage."
Aiden's voice cut through the air behind him. "Ceal."
The courtyard stilled. Even the wind seemed to pause.
Ceal turned slowly, his smirk returning. "Brother. You missed my lecture."
"I didn't miss it," Aiden said evenly. "I ignored it."
Lyra could feel the tension between them — not hatred, but something colder.
Ceal stepped closer, eyes glinting. "You still haven't told her, have you? About why I left?"
Aiden's tone was ice. "That's not your truth to tell."
Lyra frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"Nothing that concerns you," Aiden said firmly.
Ceal laughed softly. "Everything concerns her, brother. She's the center of this spiral — and you're still pretending she's just another charge to protect."
Mira blinked, whispering to Ryn, "Is this a vampire family drama or am I dreaming?"
"Both," Ryn muttered back.
The moment broke when Ceal suddenly turned toward Mira, tilting his head. "By the way, I ran your blood trace."
Mira's eyes went wide. "You what?!"
Ceal grinned. "Relax — metaphorically. You might carry more echoes of the Veil than you think. Fascinating, really."
Lyra gasped. "Ceal, you didn't—"
"No harm done," he interrupted, raising his hands. "But if she starts hearing whispers in her dreams, tell me. I've been trying to track that pattern."
Aiden's eyes darkened. "You're done here."
Ceal sighed dramatically. "Always the killjoy." He flicked the coin once more — it spun in the air, catching the sunset.
Then he vanished, fading like smoke.
The courtyard was silent again. Mira's voice finally broke the stillness.
"Okay," she said, wide-eyed. "I am definitely adding this to my myth journal."
Lyra exhaled, half-laughing, half-exhausted. "Good luck explaining it."
Ryn smirked. "At least chaos has style."
Aiden stood apart, staring at the place Ceal had been.
Under his breath, he murmured, "Still playing games you don't understand…"
Lyra looked at him, worry touching her voice. "Aiden, what does he want?"
He turned to her slowly. "You."
----
Chapter 27 – "Whispers Between Blood"
The week that followed felt strangely normal.
Or as normal as life could be when half your friends were vampires and your dorm neighbor once punched a shadow into flames.
Mira adjusted better than anyone expected.
She still took notes during history class like a top student, except her notebook now had a new section labeled:
"Vampire Facts (Probably True)."
They hate sunlight (duh).
They drink blood, but apparently also coffee??
Ryn is allergic to sarcasm.
"Hey, I'm not allergic," Ryn said one afternoon, glancing at her list. "I just think your jokes are terrible."
"You laughed yesterday," Mira shot back.
"That was pity," he said smoothly.
Lyra nearly choked on her drink watching them bicker again. "You two fight like siblings."
"We're not—!" both Mira and Ryn blurted at once, then glared at each other.
Aiden, passing by with a stack of reports, didn't even look up. "If you two are done flirting, we have an actual problem."
"We're not—!" they chorused again, voices overlapping.
Lyra laughed so hard that even Aiden's mouth twitched — just slightly — before he hid it behind a sigh.
That evening, the laughter faded when Mira mentioned her dreams.
"They've been weird lately," she admitted quietly. "There's… this whisper. Like someone's calling my name from behind a door I can't open."
Lyra's smile faltered. "Since when?"
"Since the day Ceal did his creepy 'research,'" Mira said, making air quotes.
Ryn groaned. "He's still hanging around you?"
"Not by choice!" Mira said quickly. "He keeps appearing out of nowhere. Yesterday he showed up through a wall to ask if I could smell ozone."
"That sounds like him," Lyra said dryly. "He once asked if fire had feelings."
"It does," Aiden muttered. "His lab burned for three days."
Mira blinked. "...That explains so much."
As if on cue, Ceal's voice drifted from nowhere.
"Talking about me behind my back again? I'm flattered."
He appeared perched upside down on a ceiling beam, grinning.
"Ceal!" Mira groaned. "Can you, I don't know, use doors like a normal person?"
"Normal is boring," he said cheerfully, flipping to the floor. "Also, walls are more direct."
Lyra sighed. "You're going to give Mira a heart attack."
"On the contrary," Ceal said, studying Mira with that unnerving scientist's gleam. "Her pulse is remarkably steady. No fear response. Fascinating."
"Maybe because I'm used to you showing up uninvited," she said, glaring. "And stop scanning me with your weird eyes."
"They're not weird," he said. "They're observant."
Ryn muttered, "You mean creepy."
"Potato, potahto," Ceal replied.
Lyra rubbed her temples. "Ceal, the dreams. Mira says she hears voices — whispers."
Ceal's grin faded just slightly. "Ah. So it's begun."
"What's begun?" Aiden's tone sharpened.
Ceal looked at Mira again, softer now. "Your blood remembers something. Something that isn't human memory. Call it echo resonance."
"In English?" Mira asked.
"It means," Ceal said, tilting his head, "you might have been closer to our world than you think. Once."
"You're impossible," Aiden muttered.
"That's why you keep me around," Ceal replied with a wink.
Mira folded her arms. "If my blood's weird, I deserve an explanation. I'm not getting haunted for free."
Ceal blinked, then grinned. "You're my favorite human."
"Don't encourage him," Ryn warned.
"At least he talks to me like a person," Mira retorted. "Not like I'm made of glass."
"Because he's insane," Ryn shot back.
Lyra burst out laughing, and even Aiden's stern mask cracked for a heartbeat.
When the laughter died, Ceal's tone turned thoughtful. "Keep listening to the whispers, Mira. Sometimes, they tell truths even blood forgets."
He turned toward Aiden as if sensing the older vampire's suspicion.
"I'm not your enemy, Commander. You of all people should know I only follow curiosity."
"That's exactly what worries me," Aiden said quietly.
Ceal's smile thinned. "Then worry faster."
And with a flick of his coat, he vanished — a ripple in shadow and nothing more.
Silence lingered.
"He's going to be the death of me," Ryn muttered.
"Same," Mira said. "Though he is kind of cute for a walking nightmare."
"Never say that again," Ryn groaned.
Lyra laughed again — bright, alive — and for a fleeting moment, the world felt normal.
But Aiden's eyes stayed on the window, where a shadow whispered faintly, like a name caught in wind:
"Find me."
And for the first time in centuries, he felt the faint chill of something returning —
something older than blood, and twice as dangerous.