Entry 35 January 13th
The cold air on campus always carried a strange kind of hush, like the walls were listening.
Tonight, it pressed against my skin like breath from something unseen.
I told myself it was nothing.
Just the lateness of the hour, the strain behind my eyes after too much reading.
But even then, something felt... off.
Not like the usual quiet of a dead library night.
This was the quiet before a scream.
I left the side exit of the old humanities hall and walked the curved path toward the dorms.
No one around.
No footsteps.
No glowing windows.
Even the lamplights flickered, as if they too feared staying lit.
I should've stayed indoors. I should've listened to that wrongness in the air.
The moment I passed under the tall iron arch leading into the garden shortcut, they came.
A man stepped from the shadows first.
Then another.
Three.
Four.
All dressed in street clothes, but there was nothing casual about them.
Their eyes were sharp, their movements tighter than any civilian. One had a rosary burned into the skin of his palm. Another wore a blade at his belt that shimmered not with steel, but silver.
Real silver.
Tainted with something darker, something that smelled like dried salt and old prayers.
"Easy there"
the tallest one said.
His voice was even, like he was talking to a wild dog.
"We don't want to hurt you. Unless we have to."
They spread out, surrounding me.
I didn't say a word. I didn't need to. They already knew.
"You're not old,"
one muttered.
"Freshly turned, maybe. Blood's still new. Can't even hide your scent."
I blinked.
Turned?
My throat tightened, but not from fear, from confusion. They didn't know. They didn't understand what I was.
They thought I was one of their textbook monsters. A vampire turned in a back alley.
A new predator born of a bite and a bad decision.
"We take her now,"
another said.
"Before she alerts her sire."
I stepped back, instincts flaring, the mark on my collarbone pulsing under my skin like it wanted to wake.
My power stirred.
Slow, reluctant, as if it too was unsure whether to fight or flee.
Then it happened.
The wind around us dropped in temperature.
Not cold.
Dead.
A flash of violet light broke the darkness behind the hunters.
A girl stepped into view, hand raised, fingers crackling with a dull shimmer of suppressed magic.
Her voice rang clear and cutting through the silence:
"You really want to do this? On university grounds?"
The hunters turned, startled.
One recognized her immediately and swore under his breath.
"Witchblood"
he hissed.
She didn't flinch.
"Half-witch, actually. But I'm enough to ruin you all if you touch her again."
Something about her presence. Tall, wiry, confident, made the air thrum.
Not just magic, but practiced will.
She was dangerous.
And she didn't want to show it.
The men didn't argue.
One by one, they backed off.
Not because they were scared of me.
Because they knew her.
When they were gone, she turned to me.
She was pretty in an unconventional way, sharp brows, dyed streaks in her short black hair, a crescent-shaped earring dangling from her left ear.
Her eyes glowed faintly, still smoldering with magic.
"You okay?"
she asked.
No softness in her tone.
Just clean, clinical curiosity.
Like I was a puzzle she hadn't solved yet.
"I… I think so."
"Good"
she said.
"Because you were about five seconds from getting exorcised with silver."
I looked at her.
"Why did you help me?"
She shrugged.
"You looked clueless. Most vamps don't walk into hunter territory without backup."
I blinked. "You think I'm...?"
She tilted her head.
"You're not? You reek of Hollow blood. Fresh, too. So either you're a newly turned vamp… or something worse."
Her eyes narrowed.
"You don't feel like a fullblood."
I stayed silent.
"Okay,"
she said slowly, studying me again.
"So what are you? And who turned you?"
I hesitated. There were a thousand ways to answer. I chose the one that felt safest.
"No one turned me"
I said.
"I was born this way."
She stared at me like I'd just told her I was the moon.
Then she laughed.
Not mockingly, but in disbelief.
"Sure"
she said.
"And I'm a full-blooded dragon. Come on. Let's get off this path. They might circle back."
She turned and walked, motioning for me to follow.
And I did.
Because even if she didn't believe me.
Even if she thought I was some stray turned in the night.
She saved me.
And I needed answers.
And maybe, just maybe…
She did too.
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Entry 36 — January 14th
We sat under the canopy near the edge of campus, where the trees grew wild and tangled, and the lights from the dorms didn't quite reach.
It wasn't much warmer than before, but the tension between us made the cold easier to forget.
She crossed her legs on the bench and leaned back like she wasn't just wielding magic moments ago.
Like she hadn't just chased off trained hunters like they were nothing more than nosy freshmen.
"I'm Lyra"
she said, popping open a small thermos and offering it without explanation.
"Peppermint tea. Not poisoned."
I took it.
"Eira."
She paused.
"Like… just Eira?"
"Yeah."
She nodded slowly, eyes scanning my face.
"Okay. Not gonna lie, I'm still trying to figure out what you are."
"I told you. I wasn't turned."
"And I told you that makes zero sense."
I sipped the tea. It was strong and oddly soothing, like drinking steam off crushed leaves.
"What makes you so sure you're right?"
Lyra raised a brow.
"Because I actually know how the supernatural world works. And you don't. That's pretty clear."
I set the thermos down.
"You think you know everything because you've read a few books?"
"I think I know everything because I was raised in it"
she said flatly. "My mom's a witch. My dad's human. I grew up balancing hexes and midterms. So yeah, I've seen a lot. And none of it explains you."
Her gaze lingered on my skin, like she expected it to split open and show what I really was.
"No aura trails"
she muttered.
"No sire-mark. Your blood isn't tethered to a coven or a nest. But you still read like Hollow-born. And that mark on your collarbone—"
I tensed instinctively.
My birthmark
She noticed.
"—you've been branded. That's not common for turned vamps. Hell, most of them don't survive branding."
I swallowed. "I didn't ask for this."
"I didn't say you did."
She leaned forward.
"But if you're not part of a nest, and you weren't turned… where does that leave you?"
I hesitated.
Telling her the truth felt dangerous.
But lying felt stupid, she was already putting together puzzle pieces I didn't even know existed.
"I'm… from a bloodline"
I said finally.
"Old. Hidden. I didn't know what I was until recently."
Lyra blinked.
"You're bloodborn? That's impossible. They're all dead. The Houses fell centuries ago."
I didn't say anything.
Her mouth opened slowly, disbelief painting her face.
"Wait. No. That's not— You're not saying—"
I looked away.
"House Thorne."
The name hung in the air like ash.
Lyra sat back like I'd just struck her. Her hands twitched, magic humming faintly in her fingertips again.
"You're joking."
"I wish I was."
She stared at me like I was a ghost.
"I thought House Thorne was destroyed in the Cleansing. Burned to ash, bloodline severed, that's what the records say. But… you're saying it survived? The estate still stands?"
I gave a small nod.
"Hidden by wards. I've been there."
She was silent for a long time. Her voice came out low.
"If the Thorne line survived, that changes everything. They were purebloods, practically royalty. The current Council's built on the idea that the pure lines were wiped out. If they know about you…"
I hesitated.
"They… might."
Lyra's eyes narrowed.
"What do you mean?"
I shifted uncomfortably.
"A letter came. Black seal, formal tone. They didn't say who I was, not directly, but it felt like they were watching. Like they were testing the waters."
"Shit"
she whispered.
"Then they suspect. And if they're even half-aware of your bloodline, they'll try to pull you in before someone else does."
I frowned.
"Why? Why would they care?"
Lyra looked at me like I'd asked why fire was hot.
"Because if you're Thorne, you don't just exist. You threaten everything they built after the Cleansing."
"The Council is made of survivors, but none of them were bloodborn. If you take your place, it could unravel their grip."
"I don't want to take anything,"
I said.
"I just want to understand what I am."
Lyra gave a half-laugh.
"Well, congratulations. You just dragged yourself into every dark story your kind tries to forget."
I looked at her.
"Why didn't you run when you found out who I was?"
She looked at me with a calm steadiness I hadn't expected.
"Because someone has to help you figure it out. And I'm too curious to walk away."
We parted not long after.
The wind picked up again. But this time, I didn't feel alone.
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Entry 37 — January 15th
I didn't sleep.
Not because of nightmares.
Those I was used to.
But because Lyra's words kept circling in my head like smoke trapped in a glass.
Bloodborn.
Heir.
Threat.
It sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud.
I don't feel like royalty.
I don't feel like a threat.
I feel like a girl who can't walk past a mirror without checking her eyes for too much silver.
A girl who didn't ask for any of this.
But Lyra was right, too much has happened.
Too much fits now.
The mark.
The way the wards didn't burn me.
The dreams.
The estate.
The whispers I couldn't hear clearly in the archives.
And now this.
The Council.
The black-sealed letter felt heavy in my memory. I had tucked it away in the bottom drawer of my desk, under old notebooks and broken pens, like it could be forgotten.
But it hadn't disappeared.
Nothing ever does.
I walked through campus with my hood up today, eyes lowered.
Every voice I passed felt sharp. Every laugh, every cough, it made me flinch.
Were they watching?
Could they be anywhere?
Humans.
Vampires.
The Council dogs in borrowed skin.
The hunters from yesterday hadn't returned. Lyra said they wouldn't, not after seeing her flare like that.
She told me most human hunters avoid half-blood witches.
"Too unpredictable"
she said.
"Too close to both worlds."
I wonder if that's how she sees me now.
Too close to both.
Or maybe to neither.
We met again after our classes, at the same spot near the tree line. I didn't know what to expect, maybe she'd pretend none of it happened.
But she didn't.
She brought snacks this time. Two packets of seaweed chips and a can of guava soda.
"Balance"
She said.
"After supernatural revelations, you need salt and sugar."
I couldn't help but laugh.
She had questions. Of course she did.
"How long have you known?"
"When did the mark appear?"
"Why didn't the Council take you in when it lit up?"
I answered as best I could, which is to say: not very well.
The truth is, the mark was always there. Since I was little, I thought it was a weird birthmark.
My mother never explained it. She'd brush it off, say it was "nothing but an old family trait."
But it burned after the dreams started. After I stopped eating.
After the shadows moved too fast and the moonlight began to smell like iron.
That's when everything started shifting.
Lyra looked thoughtful when I said that.
"You're awakening"
she muttered.
"Like… naturally. That's not supposed to happen. Especially not for vampires. They either turn or get turned. Purebloods are born into it — but that's all ancient history."
I told her about the estate again. The sigils. The names on the gravestones I didn't recognize.
The locked rooms.
The blood-sealed books.
Her face tightened.
"You need to be careful"
she said.
"If your blood is awakening the estate, that means its protections are tied to you. That also means anyone who gets close enough could try to use you to get in."
I hadn't even thought of that.
I should have.
It's hard to know who's dangerous anymore.
Lyra says she doesn't trust anyone who shows too much interest in the supernatural but claims to be just curious.
"Curiosity's a mask"
she said.
"The real ones stay hidden, or they play it close. Just like the Council."
I asked her how much she knew about them.
She hesitated. That was the first time I saw her nervous.
"They run the vampire world now"
she said carefully.
"At least… the organized part of it. No purebloods left, supposedly. No great houses. Just factions, deals, blood politics."
I asked her if they were dangerous.
She laughed, but not like it was funny.
"They're very dangerous. But not because they kill. It's because they convince."
"Convince what?" I asked.
She looked at me with a sharpness I hadn't seen before.
"That you belong to them."
I didn't answer after that.
We just sat in silence, eating seaweed chips, watching the sky bleed pink behind the trees.
The wind smelled like frost.
But for the first time in weeks…
I didn't feel like I had to run.
Someone knew.
Someone understood.
And even if it was just one person…
It was enough.