By the time I finally reached the Orientation Hall, I’d seen more of the University’s melting pot of species and personalities than I’d thought possible. Demons, angels, beastkin -and a few entities I could only describe as mythologically ambiguous. Their auras wove a tapestry of magic and presence so intricate, it felt like staring into a Jackson Pollock painting if Pollock had worked in phosphorescent oils on a canvas of vibrating energy. And yet, somehow, I still managed to feel like the odd one out. A vampire with no court or coven, wandering campus like a lost tourist.

But that wasn't where I'd ended up first. Oops.

You see, I’d taken to something I called Zen Walking. It’s less about “finding your way” and more about “finding your way by following someone who looks like they know where they’re going until something interesting happens.” The results? Hit or miss, but never boring. This time, the path led me to the gymnasium.

The moment I got within range, the energy of the place hit me like a tsunami. It practically buzzed with life. The air thrummed with adrenaline, ambition, and the kind of competition that could break bones and egos alike. Students sparred in rings, their blows so fast and precise I could feel the vibrations through the floor. Weights the size of small anvils clanged as students pushed their limits, and I swore I heard someone performing parkour on the ceiling beams.

I paused outside the entrance, letting the energy soak into me. This place wasn’t just alive; it was feral. And though I couldn’t see it fully in the traditional sense, my Sight painted a picture of glowing figures and shimmering patterns, a phantom imprint of reality overlaid with magic.

The ground beneath my boots shifted subtly, its texture changing as I walked. Smooth paths became rough patches, the surface reacting as though testing my intentions. My Sight, a ghostly image fueled by ambient magic and the faint bonds of my absent familiars, was functional but frustrating. Shapes wavered and flickered, their details elusive. It was like trying to sketch a landscape during an earthquake. Still, it was better than blindness.

As I approached the building, my senses sharpened. The gym’s dimensions revealed themselves in ripples of magic that hummed faintly, the structure massive and buzzing with enchantments. It had its own aura, a lazy swirl of power that made the Way itself feel less distant in my memory. The gymnasium wasn’t just a building; it was a nexus.

The double doors swung open with a soft hiss, and a wave of sensory overload hit me like a freight train. The unmistakable smell of sweat and rubber filled my nostrils, mingling with the faint tang of magic. Echoing through the cavernous space was the squeak of sneakers on polished wood, the rhythmic bounce of trampolines, and the metallic clink of free weights being hoisted skyward. It was every gym I’d ever known, but louder, larger, and unapologetically magical.

I stepped inside and let my heightened senses drink in the chaos. The squeal of volleyball serves reverberated from one corner, the sharp smack of fists against punching bags from another. A basketball game echoed faintly, players shouting commands as the ball thudded against the court. My attention drifted to a corner where trampoline springs groaned under the weight of students practicing mid-air acrobatics that defied both gravity and good sense.

I paused to admire the organized chaos. For a moment, I even indulged the thought of jumping into the fray. But I knew better. In my current state, with heightened strength and reflexes, “fair play” wasn’t exactly my forte. I’d either obliterate someone’s confidence or end up recruiting an accidental mortal enemy. Neither was a good look for the new guy.

Then, something shifted.

The tang of blood reached my nose, sharp and metallic. At first, I chalked it up to the usual gym accidents -an errant elbow to the face or an overly ambitious squat gone wrong. But this was different. This wasn’t a minor cut or a nosebleed. The scent was heavy, rich, and unmistakable. Someone had been seriously hurt.

I let the scent guide me, following the invisible trail as it curled through the air like a beckoning finger. My body moved instinctively, every nerve on edge as I zeroed in on the source. The scent mingled with the sound of flesh hitting flesh, a rhythmic thud that set my Hunger stirring.

A loud thump came hard -flesh striking flesh, a visceral sound that seemed to hum in my chest. Bone meeting bone, punctuated by the dull, wet percussion of fists pounding into soft tissue. It wasn’t just a fight; it was the soundtrack to something primal, something I knew I shouldn’t be walking toward. And yet, I was.

It was temptation on a level that scared me.

The scent of blood intensified as I approached -a sharp, metallic tang that tugged at my instincts with the delicacy of a butcher’s hook. My steps quickened, driven by a pull I couldn’t name. It was equal parts bloodlust and morbid curiosity, a predator’s compulsion to see what was bleeding, what was breaking, and why.

As I got closer, my Sight began to paint a picture. Shapes resolved from the haze, patterns shifting and swirling into vague forms that sharpened with every step. I passed indistinct figures whose patterns I now recognized as people, their auras muted in comparison to what awaited me. They were like stars scattered in the periphery of my vision -dim, distant, and inconsequential.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

But then there was her.

She was a beacon, a storm captured in human form. Silver and red lightning crackled through her pattern, sparking off every junction and thread like a living circuit. Her movements weren’t just graceful; they were charged with a raw, electrifying energy that lit up my Sight like a Fourth of July finale. She wasn’t just fighting -she was consuming.

As I closed the distance, I could see it more clearly. Each strike, each feint, and each impact wasn’t just a physical exchange. It was a siphoning. Her opponents’ energy flowed to her in shimmering threads, their own brightness dimming with every desperate effort. She glowed brighter with each passing second, feeding on their exertion like a vampire who dined on the very essence of effort.

I stopped, transfixed, as I pieced it together. She wasn’t just draining their kinetic energy; it was deeper than that. Their vitality, their essence -the invisible threads that tethered them to strength and consciousness- were being unraveled and rewoven into her own form. She sparkled in my Sight, every node of her pattern alive with a vibrancy I’d never seen before. It was mesmerizing. Terrifying, too, if I let myself think about it for more than a second.

Filing away what I saw for the future -perhaps I could use a similar fighting style with my Essence Drain.

I watched her move with a casual fluidity, her strikes landing with the precision and with the predatory efficiency of intense training. There were no flaws in her form, no openings in her defense that begged to be exploited. And as I expected, her opponents failed to gain an edge. Maybe they couldn’t. Their patterns dimmed so quickly, it was hard to tell where they ended and the floor began.

One fell, then another. By the time the third crumpled to the mat, their auras were little more than dying embers. And her? She was darkly radiant. Charged. Alive.

I felt my Hunger stir, whispering its usual litany: Feed. Feed on the power. Feed on the life. I pushed it down with practiced effort, forcing myself to focus on what I was seeing. This wasn’t ordinary vampirism -if that’s even what it was. This was something unique, something I hadn’t encountered in movies, games, or the scattered tropes of pop culture. She didn’t need fangs. Her whole being was a siphon, a black hole wrapped in lightning and grace.

She stepped back, standing tall amidst the wreckage of her opponents. I could feel her power radiating outward, her energy crackling like static in the air. If she noticed me watching, she gave no indication. But I couldn’t shake the sense that this was someone I needed to understand, someone whose abilities might hold answers -or dangers- I hadn’t anticipated.

She held similarities to my own emerging powers. And I had a feeling I could learn a lot from her.

And yet, as I watched her revel in the aftermath, I also couldn’t help but feel a flicker of recognition. Something about the way she moved, maybe? Or it could just be the way she absorbed the energy around her. Whatever it was -it was familiar. Not in the sense that I’d seen her before, but like I’d glimpsed a shadow of this in myself.

A question bubbled up, unbidden: What would it feel like to step into that ring with her? Not to fight her -not really- but to test the boundaries of that power, to see how far it could go.

The thought lingered as she turned to leave, her brightness leaving an afterimage in my Sight. I stayed rooted to the spot, my mind racing, my Hunger still whispering.

I clenched my fists, willing myself to focus. There was something about her I needed to understand. And if that meant getting closer -figuratively or literally- I wasn’t sure I had the strength to resist.

I was as startled as everyone else when I heard the sound of someone clapping. Though it was fitting, she had put on quite a performance.

Then I realized the one clapping was me.

Hey, I mean, I couldn’t help myself. The slow clap had started on instinct, each slap of my palms an acknowledgment of the brilliance I had just witnessed, echoing through the gymnasium with an echoing rhythm. A grin spread across my face -half amusement, half genuine awe. “Bravo,” I said, voice heavy with approval. “I mean, seriously, that was impressive.”

She turned, her form still shimmering with residual energy. Her gaze locked onto me, the intensity of her aura nearly making me take an involuntary step back. She couldn’t have been more than twenty feet away, but when she spoke, her voice carried like a thunderclap that somehow managed to sound casual.

“Thanks.”

Holy shit.

Before I could process the absurdity of the situation, she was running at me, her presence a streak of light and heat. A beam of energy -her energy- arced ahead of her like an unbridled comet. My instincts screamed at me to dodge, and I stumbled back, fear prickling down my spine. Look, I’m not too proud to admit it: when a human-shaped meteor is barreling toward you, fear is a pretty reasonable reaction.

But before I could get out of the way, she was on me. Arms wrapped around me in a fierce, almost bone-crushing hug. Her laugh bubbled out, warm and unrestrained, as she exclaimed, “Declan Dark, what the hell are you doing here?”

I froze for a moment, my mind struggling to reconcile the familiarity of her voice with the impossibility of the situation. Then it hit me like a freight train.

∞

Errrt! Timeout!

Okay, folks, hold onto your hats -or whatever accessory you use to contain your awe- because we need to pump the brakes for a second. In fact, you’re going to want to sit down for this. I’m throwing up the biggest spoiler alert this side of the multiverse. Like, we’re talking galaxy-sized, Earth-shattering, “Holy crap, did that just happen?” levels of spoiler.

If you haven’t read DNA: The Awakened (Demons and Angels) yet, this is your cue. Stop. Go read it. Immerse yourself. Seriously, here’s the Link. You're welcome.

Now, I’d love to say I timed this reveal perfectly like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat at the exact right moment. But, uh… funny story -turns out the book this is tied to hasn’t actually reached that part yet. Whoops. My bad. Let’s chalk it up to “creative foreshadowing” and call it a day, yeah? It's almost there though. I promise.

So, consider this your friendly neighborhood vampire’s warning: venture ahead at your own risk.

Alright, enough stalling. Back to the action.