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50. Back to the Action (Declan)

I recognized her voice immediately. And I was floored.

“Dom?” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. Dom. It was her, wasn’t it?

It was at about that point that I truly started to question whether or not this was all some sort of a drug-induced hallucination, and instead of being at a magical university in another world, I was lying face down in the gutter outside Club Twilight -basking in how cold the cement feels against my skin.

“Yeah!” she said, pulling back just enough to look at me, her face split into the kind of grin that could light up a city block. “What are you doing here? How are you here?”

“What? What am I doing here?” My brain short-circuited, and I gave a helpless shrug. “I could ask you the same thing! What are you doing here? And how?”

Her smile softened, and she shook her head, her damp hair flaring a dark light like a firework. “It’s a long story. But wow, you look… good. Like, really good.” She placed a hand on my arm, and I felt a jolt of energy arc between us.

A quick glance down confirmed that there was indeed a strange effect happening. The closest thing I could equate it to would be having two cell phones talking to each other, a foot apart. You know that crazy screechy echoing feedback?

Yeah, just like that, but with energy. Like my Essence Drain, and her own siphoning power, were doing the lambada as they tried to get the upper hand in an aetheric game of thumb war. She seemed not to notice however, so I did the best I could to maintain my cool as well.

But damn, did it feel like a thousand mosquito bites all wanting to be scratched.

“Uh, thanks,” I said, awkwardly scratching the back of my neck. “Right back at you. You look-”

She finally seemed to notice my scars, her gaze widening as her eyes traced the lines across my face. Her smile faltered as she noticed the pale, unfocused stare of my eyes. “Oh my god… what happened?”

My throat tightened. “That’s a long story too,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. “Hey, are you hungry?”

“I could eat something,” she said, but she appeared confused by her own statement.

“Really? Because after that performance, you look like you could run a marathon.” And I wasn’t kidding, her 3 opponents were still floored, and their auras were less lively. But hers? She was living plasma, a walking aurora borealis.

Dom’s brow furrowed for a second, then smoothed as she looked down at herself, as though taking stock for the first time. “You know, I think I’m supposed to be hungry after something like that. I mean, after a workout like that, you’d expect me to be starving.” She paused, her voice turning thoughtful. “But you know? You’re kind of right. Honestly, I feel… incredible. It’s like I don’t even need food. I guess it’s just reflex more than anything. After a fight like that, I only expected to feel hungry.”

She smiled as she turned to wave at a tall dark and broody looking figure who was overseeing the collection of the three sparring partners she had left unconscious in the ring -before turning back to me with a grin.

I tilted my head, smirking. “Still, food’s not the worst idea, right?” I hadn’t actually eaten anything since the diner back in Vegas. Other than -well- I had gotten a little bit of blood, unwillingly -or willingly? I wasn’t sure- donated by Jinx while we were on the Way.

But that was a long time ago.

She laughed, a genuine, carefree sound that sent a ripple of warmth through me. “Yeah, you’re right. I could use some food -and some company. Let’s catch up. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

“Yes, we can regale each other with our tales of misadventure,” I was finally getting back into the swing of things, having successfully removed any appendages from orifices that did not belong.

Without hesitation, she looped her arm through mine like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Come on,” she said. “Let me give you the grand tour. Or, at least, the scenic route to the cafeteria. We’ll chat on the way.”

I let her guide me, the warmth of her presence oddly grounding despite the surreal turn of events. As we passed the edge of the gymnasium, I glanced back toward the sparring ring. Her opponents were still sprawled across the floor, moaning softly as on-call nurses and a few students worked to revive them.

“Uh, Dom?” I nodded toward the carnage. “Are they… gonna be okay?”

She turned, her expression unconcerned. “Oh, they’ll be fine. Just need to walk it off.” Her laugh carried a faint edge of mischief. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Dom.” My tone was half-chiding, half-amused. “You don’t know what you just did, do you?”

She cocked her head, a quizzical look on her face. “What do you mean, what I just did? I’ve taken on three guys before. You’ve seen me do it. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Yeah, but that was in a normal martial arts sparring session, with normal opponents, in a normal world,” I said, trying to find the right words. Gesturing around us at the eclectic array of human-shaped -but very much not human- students in the gym to emphasize my point, “This wasn’t normal. This was… something else.”

Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean, something else?”

“Dom, you weren’t just fighting them. You were… I don’t even know how to describe it. Feeding off them, maybe? Every punch they threw, every move they made, their energy -it all flowed into you. You were draining them.”

She blinked, processing my words. “Draining them? Like a vampire?” She laughed, but it was a nervous sound, and her eyes searched mine for answers.

“Not exactly,” I said. “It wasn’t blood or anything. It was their effort, their vitality -like their very essence. And you didn’t just beat them. You consumed them.”

Her gaze flicked back toward the ring, where the students were still being tended to. The dark figure she had waved to before still present. I could feel the intensity of his eyes as he focused on us. New boyfriend maybe? Didn’t feel like, Nile, I thought. Of course, I didn’t know what Nile felt like, or looked like with my enhanced sight, but I could guess. And that guy just felt plain wrong.

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For a moment, a flicker of doubt crossed her face, but then she shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Declan. I mean, yeah, I felt good -better than good- but that’s just combat high, right?”

I opened my mouth to argue, but she cut me off with a grin. “You know what? First things first. Come on, you said you were hungry, right? Let’s go. They have the best fusion cuisine.”

Her laugh was light, but the question lingered in her eyes as she led me out into the hall. And though I followed, I couldn’t help glancing back at the ring, my thoughts swirling like a storm.

“So I’ve been told,” I said as I let her drag me along by her side.

The cafeteria was more than just a dining hall; it was a living, breathing nexus of magic and culture, a microcosm of the University itself. Enchanted lanterns hovered above, their light shifting with the mood of the conversations below, while the ceiling morphed between serene twilight and blazing auroras.

The tables reflected the diversity of the diners -the distinct personalities of the various Houses playing out vividly.

Vampires and their undead kin gathered in dimly lit corners, sipping from goblets that glowed darkly with essence, while shifters devoured their meals with an exuberance that bordered on feral.

Across the room, the expected discipline of the angels was missing -replaced by a sight that surprised me. For instead of pristine, and filled with heavenly virtue, they appeared to be a rather rowdy bunch of jocks, and athletes. Which made sense -as I noticed that each one was more physically perfect than the last.

Whereas in contrast was the brooding intensity of the demons. They were no less attractive, but it was a totally different vibe to the angels. Their two sections practically radiated opposing forces.

Meanwhile, the Fae’Ri sculpted desserts into miniature palaces with delicate waves of their hands, a stark contrast to the Djinn, who ate while reclining midair, their meals floating obediently to their lips -like the desert royalty they appeared to be.

And yet, the stark contrasts didn’t define the room entirely. Melting-pot tables scattered throughout the cafeteria told a different story.

A ghoul laughed alongside a human caster, their plates piled high with eclectic dishes, while a trollish figure carefully balanced his oversized tray beside a group of humans who juggled their meals and their wands.

The natural divides of politics and tradition faded as students found camaraderie in shared meals and casual conversations, creating an atmosphere as dynamic and unpredictable as the magic they practiced.

The energy in the room was palpable, the air humming with life and power. And the aroma of food was so good it as it wafted through the air, I knew it was magical. Of course, I could also see it, with my Sight, of course.

My senses were assaulted by the scents of spiced meats, freshly baked bread, and a dozen other fragrances I couldn’t even name -creating a culinary symphony in my nose. If this was what campus food was like, I could only imagine what their fine dining looked like. It was like the best Vegas buffet, if the chefs were literal gods of food and wine.

“What is this place called?” I asked, wiping away a bit of drool that had betrayed me. “I didn’t see a sign.”

“Oh, the students call it the Cornucopia. Though I’m not sure if that’s the official title or not.” She tugged on my arm, dragging me through the crowd, “Come on, there’s a table!”

We staked our claim at a recently vacated table, its former occupants leaving a pile of dishes that had seen better days. But by the time we were sitting down, the table was pristine once more.

I was pretty sure I would have missed it, if my Sight wasn’t on full power.

There was a moment, a brief flash of power, and the table was replaced by a clean one. Stage magic? Nope, cross-dimensional manipulation at its finest.

“Let’s get our food, shall we?” Dom asked with a mischievous smile.

Totally caught up in the whirlwind of the strange and unusual, I followed her lead with a smile of my own.

I was Hungry.

“Okay,” Dom said, sliding into the seat across from me, her tray piled high with what looked like the work of a Michelin-starred chef reincarnated as a student cook. “Spill. What did you see? And don’t give me the abridged version. I want details.”

I smirked, tearing a chunk off a warm roll that somehow managed to be the perfect about of fluffy and crispy. “You’re really going to make me talk about this here? Over dinner? It feels like a violation of some unspoken cafeteria etiquette.” I gestured vaguely at the nearest table, where a feline beastkin was scarfing down something that might have been alive a few minutes ago. “This is sacred ground, Dom. The food’s too good for drama.”

She rolled her eyes, spearing a piece of perfectly grilled steak with her fork. “Don’t deflect. You’re the only one who can see it, Declan. For me, it’s just a feeling -a pulse, a rush, something I can’t pin down. But you saw it. So, start talking.”

“Fine,” I said, holding up my hands in mock surrender. “But only because this steak deserves to be savored without interruptions.” I took a deliberate bite, letting the flavor melt across my tongue before continuing. “You want the good news or the weird news first?”

Dom arched a brow. “Declan, I just threw three guys into the metaphorical wood chipper of life. Start with the weird.”

“Fair enough.” I leaned back, setting down my fork. “So, your pattern -it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen, which isn’t really saying much- but I digress.” She threw an olive at me, and I caught it out of the air with a snap of my teeth. Two bites later and it was gone. Then I continued to describe what I had seen.

“It’s silver and red, crackling with lightning. It’s alive, Dom. Every movement you make sends sparks flying, and every hit you take -every hit you give- pulls energy toward you. It’s like you’re a living thunderstorm, and your opponents are a set of really unlucky lightning rods.”

She blinked, her fork halfway to her mouth. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious. And trust me, I’ve seen some weird stuff lately, but this?” I gestured vaguely at her. “This is next-level. You’re not just draining their stamina; it’s like you’re feeding on their essence. You hit them, they weaken, and you… well, you get brighter. Stronger.”

Dom set her fork down, her expression unreadable. “So, what you’re saying is… I’m a vampire now?” Her lips twitched with barely suppressed laughter.

“Oh, no,” I said, waving a hand dismissively. “You’re way cooler than that. Vampires are old news. You’re like a... kinetic succubus. Energy vamp?” I tapped my chin. “Wait, no, that’s terrible branding.”

“Kinetic succubus?” she repeated, her grin widening. “That sounds like the name of a terrible garage band.”

“Or an amazing superhero,” I countered. “Come on, think about it -‘Kinetic Succubus: Stealing energy and hearts in equal measure.’”

She threw a fry at me, which I again caught mid-air. “Focus, Dark. Did it seem like I was doing it on purpose?”

I shrugged, popping the fry into my mouth. “Honestly? No. That’s the weirdest part. It’s like you were just… running on instinct. There were so many openings your opponents left, but you didn’t take them. You didn’t need to. You were siphoning their energy with every second they spent fighting you. It was mesmerizing. And kind of terrifying.”

Dom frowned, her gaze growing distant. “I’ve felt it before,” she admitted softly. “That rush, like everything is flowing into me. But I always thought it was adrenaline, you know? Like, ‘Oh, cool, I’m in the zone.’ I didn’t think I was…” She trailed off, her fork spinning idly between her fingers. “...taking something from them.”

“Well, you are. And let me tell you, they looked wrecked by the time you were done. I’m talking one-step-away-from-a-full-body-casket wrecked.”

She winced. “You make it sound like I drained their souls.”

“Not souls,” I said quickly. “Essence, maybe? Life force? I don’t know what to call it, but it’s not all doom and gloom. You’re not killing anyone.” I leaned in conspiratorially. “Yet.”

Dom snorted, finally cracking a smile. “Leave it to you to make my existential crisis sound like a bad sci-fi script.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to lighten the mood. You’re the one with the lightning fetish.”

“Not a fetish,” she said, chuckling. “It’s… okay, maybe it’s a little freaky. But it’s also kind of badass, isn’t it?”

“Oh, absolutely,” I said, raising my glass in a mock toast. “Here’s to Dom, the Kinetic Succubus, undefeated champion of the gym. May your spark never fizzle.”

She clinked her glass against mine, her laughter bright and unguarded. “You’re the worst, Declan.”

“And yet, here we are.” I grinned, the moment stretching between us like a rare thread of normalcy in the chaos that had become my life.