Three days later

Olivia

The auditorium, despite being filled to its absolute capacity, felt desolate, as though a profound emptiness lingered in the air, left by a devastating storm. A cold, heavy hush enveloped the space, punctuated only by the deep, sorrowful breaths of those of us gathered, our eyes fixed on the single figure illuminated by the harsh spotlight on stage.

Volcan stood before us, his face drawn and weary, as he inhaled deeply, collecting his thoughts amid the weight of the moment.

“Lucas was unlike any young man I’ve ever had the privilege to know,” he began, his voice trembling slightly but steadying as he spoke. “An exceptional human being and an unforgettable student. With a kindness that radiated from his very being, he garnered the respect and admiration of everyone around him. As the leader of our first-years, he represented not just promise but also the spirit of this academy. His future glimmered with infinite possibilities, tragically cut short.

He leaves behind devoted friends and countless cherished memories, which will undoubtedly echo in these halls long after today.”

Pausing, Volcan cast his gaze across the somber faces, the weight of sorrow hanging thick in the air.

“Today, I extend our deepest apologies to each of you gathered here. We made a solemn vow to protect you—a vow we have failed to uphold in the shadow of a world we grossly underestimated. The adversary we faced was far more formidable than we anticipated, and the cost of that oversight was steep.

Let this serve as a pivotal moment for us all. From here on out, everything will change. You stand at the precipice of something monumental, and you must find the strength to rise greater than you’ve ever imagined. The battle ahead will be daunting, and the darkness we confront will not hesitate to snuff out our light.

Embrace the fire within you. You must be prepared to face this threat with every ounce of your being. In doing so, we honor Lucas’s memory.

We owe it to him—and to ourselves—to fight earnestly and be relentless in our pursuit of hope.”

Niles

I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply, letting the cool wind brush against my face like a gentle caress. The willow tree’s leaves swayed softly, whispering secrets to the calm morning air—a stark contrast to the heavy silence between us.

I turned my gaze to Olivia; she was fixated on the rough wood grain of the picnic table, her eyes darting back and forth as if searching for an escape from the pain that shadowed her countenance.

“How is Hector?” I finally broke the stillness, my voice barely rising above the soft rustling around us.

“I don’t know…” Her voice trembled, each word laced with profound heaviness. “He still hasn’t woken up.”

She looked up, locking her sorrowful eyes onto mine. The depth of her grief resonated within me, echoing my own sense of helplessness. I wished I could have reached her sooner; perhaps if I had, I might have been able to stop Lucas’s untimely demise.

I lowered my gaze to the table, tracing the patterns etched into the surface by time. “I’m sure he will soon,” I murmured, though the words felt wrong, tainted by the obstacle that loomed over us. It was less about whether he would awaken and more about what would happen when he did. The school, with its long history, had always been unkind to creatures of the night—my kind were tolerated now, but barely so. If Hector stirred, if he transformed, would they still shelter him? A gnawing instinct within me suggested that their compassion would wane at the worst possible moment.

“He’s very strong,” Olivia said, drawing in a sharp breath, her determination faltering beneath the weight of her fear. “I know he will pull through.”

I met her gaze again, watching the worry etch deeper lines into her brow.

“How much did you know?” she suddenly asked, her voice breaking the fragile tension. “About the Dark Matron?”

I hesitated, recalling the creeping dread I had felt upon my first encounter with the Spindly Woman. “A bit…” I replied slowly, my voice trailing off, haunted by the memories. “On the first night, she came for me.”

“What?” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with disbelief. “My friends and I had theories that she wanted you, but we ultimately thought it would be Volcan who was the last piece.”

“It appears she just wanted me for my ability to wield magic,” I explained, my heart heavy. “I guess we were somewhat like batteries for her, fueling her insatiable hunger to reclaim her strength.”

“Do you think she’ll come for you again?” The worry in her eyes ignited a deep-seated sorrow within me.

“I don’t know,” I replied, my voice steadier than I felt. “I do not think she has a reason to anymore. She has gathered her pieces but missed the chance to claim her power. With the Vampire’s soul already in her possession, I don’t think I’m in her crosshairs now.”

Letting out a deep sigh, Olivia placed her hand on her chest, a pained gesture that underscored the gravity of the moment.

“I can still feel her,” she said, her voice a mere whisper. “She’s out there, lurking in the shadows. Without the Blood Moon, she’s much weaker. I don’t believe she’ll come for Et’r in this state.”

I nodded, my thoughts drifting to the ancient gods that pulsed within her—one of those formidable energies that had almost consumed Volcan and had mercilessly claimed the previous host. I pondered the toll that such overwhelming power would take on Olivia. She carried twice the burden now, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that it would ultimately reshape her, just as it had others before her.

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Claire

I sat in silence atop my hospital bed in the dimly lit infirmary, staring blankly at the sterile white walls that felt like they were closing in on me. Physically, I was feeling a bit better, but the nurse still had her reservations about letting me leave, as if the scars on my heart were too fresh for the outside world. Bruce occupied the chair beside my bed, a steady presence I had grown to rely on during these long, draining days. He seemed to be the only one who could even begin to grasp the abyss of grief I was sinking into.

I closed my eyes, pressing my palms against my face, but all the distractions I tried to conjure could never stave off the tears that slipped down my cheeks. I could feel the weight of the memories flooding back—memories that felt like knives in my mind, especially the ones of Lucas, the boy who had once been my anchor. Without him, it felt like a piece of me had been ripped away, leaving an empty hollowness that gnawed at my insides. The thought burned in my chest like a relentless fire, a constant reminder of my loss.

Without a word, Bruce stood up, wrapping his arms around me in a tight embrace that felt like a lifeline. I buried my face in his shoulder, letting the tears flow freely as he gently stroked my hair, his quiet support a small comfort amidst the enormity of my ache.

Ella

I smiled brightly as I reached into the cool depths of the refrigerator, my fingers brushing against the sleek surface of one of the many glass bottles filled with a beautiful crimson liquid. Each bottle was elegantly labeled and sorted by blood type. The shipment had arrived mere hours after sunrise, a testament to Professor Hawthorne’s ability to keep a promise. I hadn’t expected such a plentiful delivery; we probably had enough blood stashed away to last us through the next month.

“Here,” I said, a hint of mischief in my voice, tossing the polished bottle to Duncan, who caught it effortlessly, his lazy posture on the couch barely shifting. After I lifted a second bottle for myself, I settled beside him.

“This is not too bad,” he remarked, taking a deep sip of the thick, scarlet liquid that glinted enticingly in the soft light.

“I suppose you’re right,” I replied, examining my bottle more closely. The aroma wafting up was reminiscent of something sweet and tantalizing, like the scent of a summer fruit tart, far superior to the acrid smell of the deer carcasses left to the whims of nature.

“I could get used to this,” Duncan said, his eyes fluttering shut, surrendering to the nectar’s luxurious embrace.

“Don’t,” I cautioned, my tone sharpening with an edge of seriousness that pierced through his reverie. “We still have a job to do.”

The reminder hung between us, an invisible tether that followed us like shadows in the night.

Victoria

I knocked on the door of the Headmaster’s office, the sound echoing in the quiet corridor.

“Come in,” he called from the other side, his voice carrying a stern authority.

I gently pushed the door open and stepped inside, feeling the cool air hit my skin as I approached his desk. The glow of the afternoon sun streamed through the window, illuminating his figure.

“Victoria,” he greeted with a warm smile, rising to his full height. There was a remarkable transformation in him since our last meeting; the color had returned to his skin, and his once gaunt frame now held a healthy fullness. He looked so revitalized, so much like the passionate boy I had known in our youth.

“Volcan,” I nodded, feeling a mix of relief and curiosity.

“We have a lot to discuss,” he said, resting his palms on the desk. His expression shifted, the lightheartedness giving way to gravity. “Now that the Dark Matron has made her return.”

Nodding silently, I wondered about his approach and how prepared we truly were for her impending threat.

“She is very powerful,” he continued, his brow furrowing, “but she won’t be able to claim Et’r’s power until the Blood Moon has risen again.”

“Then we may not have much to worry about,” I replied, with a pinch of hope. “It could be another thirty years before it rises again.”

“I don’t think we will be so lucky,” he countered, stepping around his desk to face me directly.

“Do you know why the Blood Moon occurs?” he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper.

I shook my head, my thoughts racing. The celestial phenomenon had always seemed random, a fleeting calamity that disrupted our world without warning, lasting an indeterminate number of days.

“It’s a scar on this world,” he explained, a hint of nostalgia breaking through his stern demeanor. “Et’r taught me this.” He smirked for a brief moment. “We didn’t quite get along, but I did learn a lot from him.”

He paused, his gaze distant as he recalled the history. “The old gods sent their power to our world. Et’r and Khxlynd’r’s powers now reside in Olivia. There are also five other siblings whose trinkets lie somewhere buried in this vast world of ours. Sending that kind of power to our world was no small feat. In fact, it burned a hole into the very fabric of our universe. Every so often, that hole reopens and bleeds. That is the Blood Moon. Every time this otherworldly power is used, it threatens to burst forth again. Both Olivia and I have drawn heavily on their power over the past several days, and I fear the next Blood Moon will come much sooner than we anticipate.”

I felt a chill run down my spine at his words, and I could see the determination etched on his face.

“We must ensure Olivia is ready to fight when the Dark Matron inevitably returns,” he asserted. “She must be prepared for anything.”

I nodded, feeling an overwhelming sense of urgency.

“I’ve already contacted her mother,” he added, each word thoughtful.

“Rosemary?” My voice betrayed me; a chill crept through my veins at the mention of that name. It had been years since I’d seen her, and the mere thought of her presence summoned a pit of unease in my stomach.

“Yes,” Volcan affirmed. “If anyone can help in this dire situation, it will be her. She should arrive in a few days.”

“Until then,” he continued, his voice steady, “I need you to watch over Olivia. She is our most vital asset if we are to have any hope in defeating the Dark Matron.”

“Of course,” I responded, turning slowly to leave, the weight of his request heavy on my shoulders.

“Oh,” I said, hesitating before the door. I turned back to him, a frown forming. “What are we to do about the boy?”

I could feel the energy in the room shift, the air thickening as Volcan’s brow furrowed with troubled thoughts.

“We will protect him, as we always have,” he stated firmly, his tone unwavering.

“But he hasn’t always been a threat to our safety.” I argued, frustration bubbling to the surface.

“I understand it’s difficult for you, given your history with Werewolves,” he replied, his voice softer but still resolute. “But Hector is under our protection. That is a fact that will not change.”

I huffed in response, discontent swirling inside me as I exited swiftly through the door. Volcan's compassion was admirable, but perhaps too generous. Vampires were one thing; allowing a Werewolf on our campus crossed a line I refused to accept. If that boy remained here, we risked the safety of all students and staff. Something had to be done before it was too late.