As soon as my feet left the window, the world around me seemed to stretch, each second expanding into eternity. The wind howled in my ears, cold and sharp, rushing past me like a living thing determined to tear me apart. The ground below looked like a distant memory, fading farther away with each passing moment.
My stomach lurched as the pull of gravity threatened to swallow me whole, but I focused on the air rushing against my skin, the way it tugged at my hair, my clothes. The world spun in every direction, the colors of night and shadows swirling together until they became one indistinguishable blur. Time slowed. My heart hammered in my chest, the pulse echoing in my ears, but everything else felt muffled, distant, as if I were floating in a dream.
For a brief moment, I thought I could almost hear his voice again, that same velvet whisper, soft and unhurried. You'll find out soon enough. Was it a warning? A promise? I couldn't tell, and I didn't care. My mind was spinning too fast to make sense of anything.
Then, the chaos of the fall stopped. The world snapped back into focus, and the blur of night suddenly gave way to something new, something real. My feet landed softly, not with the jarring impact I'd expected, but with a grace I couldn't explain. My knees bent slightly to absorb the shock, and I barely even stumbled.
I stood still for a moment, disoriented, trying to process what had just happened. The air around me was thick and salty, like the scent of the sea had rushed up to greet me. The ground beneath my feet was uneven, old stone worn smooth by time, and I realized I was no longer in front of my aunt's house.
I slowly turned my head, taking in my surroundings. The night had given way to the first light of dawn, and the sky overhead had shifted from deep, velvety black to a pale shade of lavender. There, standing before me, was a massive stone castle, its towering walls rising up against the horizon. The air was cold, biting at my skin, and I felt a shiver run through me, not just from the chill, but from the overwhelming sense that I was no longer where I had been.
My heart raced. How had I ended up here? What was this place? And most importantly, why did it feel like I was meant to be here?
As the salty air brushed against my face, I realized one thing: There was no going back. I had crossed some invisible threshold, and whatever came next, I would have to face it head-on.
I felt his presence behind me, so I spun around and prepared myself to fight. His slow, deliberate clap broke the tension in the air, and he met my gaze with a sharp look of amusement.
"Bravo," he said, voice tinged with amusement, as though my reaction had been exactly what he expected.
"How the hell did I get here?" I demanded, trying to regain control over the situation. My stance relaxed slightly, but my heart was still racing.
"Magic, of course," Corvin answered with that infuriating smirk of his.
"Magic?" I repeated, my voice rising with disbelief. The air around me felt different, thick, almost electric, and the landscape before me looked nothing like I had ever seen.
"Where are we?" I asked, trying to make sense of what was happening.
"Ireland," he said casually, almost as if it were a trivial detail, like mentioning the weather.
Ireland. The word echoed in my mind as I took in the view. Rolling hills, covered in thick mist, stretched out beneath a dark, starless sky. The cliffs loomed in the distance, and I could hear the distant sound of waves crashing against the rocks far below. The scent of salt filled the air, stinging my skin as the cold wind swept past.
My feet shifted against the ground, grounding me in the foreign landscape, but it wasn't the land that had me entranced. It was the towering stone castle standing just a few steps away. Massive, ancient, and imposing, it loomed above us, its tall, craggy walls a stark contrast to the lush green that surrounded it. The stone was worn, centuries of weather and time shaping it, and despite its age, the structure was far from decaying, it looked alive in its own eerie, silent way.
I swallowed hard. "This is..." My words trailed off as I took it all in, feeling like I was stuck in some twisted dream.
Corvin followed my gaze, a quiet moment passing between us as we both stared at the castle. He seemed at peace with it, like this was all he had ever known.
He looked back at me, his expression almost unreadable. "Home," he said softly, the word hanging in the air with a weight that made my stomach twist.
For a second, I almost asked more questions, but I knew it would be pointless. The silence stretched on, heavy and thick, as the reality of where I was, and what I might have just done, settled in.
"They're going to find me," I said quietly, rubbing the sigil on my wrist. My fingers brushed over its intricate lines, the texture a constant reminder of what it meant. "No matter where I am."
Corvin stepped closer, his presence commanding but unnervingly calm. Without a word, he grabbed my wrist, his cool fingers wrapping around it with precision.
"They implanted a tracking chip just here," he said, his sharp nail tracing the center of the sigil. His touch lingered, almost reverent, but when his nail pressed a little too hard into the center, I flinched.
I glanced down at the mark as he continued, "I can remove it."
I stared at the sigil again, its intricate lines and flowing curves seared into my skin—not just ink, but something far more permanent. The burn, though faded with time, still carried a faint warmth beneath the surface. It had been with me since the day I was born, an ancient reminder of a pact made long before my existence.
The mark was a network of sharp angles and curves, a symbol that felt both alien and familiar. At its core, a circle, symmetrical and unyielding, held the center—the place where he said the chip was embedded. Around it were five pointed shapes, each an echo of the founders. Their power, their promise, still lingered in my blood, in the air around me.
The edges of the sigil were lined with faint, worn runes, their meanings long faded but still whispering of forgotten magic. The outermost lines seemed alive, shifting ever so slightly in the light, as if the sigil itself had a pulse, a life intertwined with mine.
It was my inheritance, my burden. And as much as I wanted to forget its existence, I couldn't escape the quiet, ever-present reminder of the pact it represented. It was a part of me, a chain I couldn't break.
"Elizabeth," Professor Corvin said, his tone sharp yet calm, snapping me out of my fixation.
I flinched, pulling my wrist from his grasp and taking a step back. My gaze darted to his face, searching for answers in his inscrutable expression.
"As I said a moment ago," he began, his voice unyielding, "I can remove it. However, it will not be painless." He paused, his eyes meeting mine with a steady intensity. "It would be better if you were lying down. It will make it easier for me to cut open your wrist and remove the implant."
The words hit me like a cold wind, sending a chill down my spine. "Cut it open?" I echoed, my voice trembling slightly despite my efforts to keep it steady.
"Yes," he said, matter-of-factly, as though it were a simple procedure. "The chip is embedded deep within the sigil. I'll need precision, and you'll need to stay completely still."
I swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over me. Despite the growing knot of fear in my stomach, I nodded slowly. "All right."
"Good," he said, his tone softening just a fraction. "Let's begin."
I nodded slowly, my voice barely a whisper. "All right."
Without another word, Corvin reached for my hand. His grip was firm but not unkind as he turned and began guiding me toward the looming castle. The massive wooden doors groaned in protest as they swung open, revealing the interior bathed in the golden glow of torchlight.
The air inside was cool, carrying the faint scent of aged stone and saltwater. The grand hall was cavernous, its high vaulted ceiling adorned with intricate carvings of creatures both familiar and alien. Chandeliers fashioned from twisted iron hung like dark sentinels, their flickering candles casting dancing shadows across the polished marble floor. Along the walls, tapestries depicted battles long forgotten, their colors faded but the imagery still vivid: hunters and creatures locked in eternal conflict.
A grand staircase rose in the center of the hall, its banisters carved with spiraling patterns that seemed to shift under the light. I could hear the faint sound of waves crashing against the cliffs as they echoed through the space, a haunting undertone to the stillness within.
But I barely had time to take in the grandeur. Corvin moved with purpose, pulling me up the staircase with a steadiness that left no room for hesitation. My gaze lingered briefly on the hall's details as we ascended, but the urgency in his movements demanded my focus.
At the top of the stairs, he led me down a dimly lit corridor, its walls lined with tall windows that framed the stormy night sky. The sound of the ocean grew louder, as though it was calling from just beyond the stone walls.
Finally, he stopped at a heavy wooden door and pushed it open. The room beyond was spacious, with a high ceiling and walls of dark stone that seemed to absorb the light of the single, ornate chandelier overhead. A long glass window stretched across one wall, fixed in place, offering a breathtaking view of the ocean below. The waves churned violently against the jagged cliffs, their white crests stark against the inky water.
The room itself was sparsely furnished, a large bed draped in dark linens, a solitary armchair near the window, and a small table with an assortment of ancient-looking tools neatly arranged. Despite its austerity, the space felt imposing, the kind of place where secrets lingered in the air.
Corvin released my hand and turned to face me. His expression was unreadable, but the intensity in his eyes hadn't wavered. "Lie down," he instructed, his voice calm but firm, as he gestured toward the bed.
The quiet in the room deepened, filling the space between us with an almost tangible tension. Corvin's fingers, still resting gently on my hand, felt colder than before, though I couldn't tell if it was the chill of the room or something else entirely. I tried to focus on the steady rise and fall of my breath, trying to ground myself in the present.
I felt Corvin's gaze on me, his dark eyes focused with a calculating intensity that almost felt like it was searching for something just beneath the surface. The silence felt weighted, like a conversation unsaid, an understanding we were both circling but not quite reaching.
Without warning, his hand moved from mine and hovered over my wrist, his touch lingering near the sigil, as though sensing the pulse of the mark beneath his fingertips. "You should prepare yourself," he murmured, his voice low and steady.
I nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat, and tried to still my body. The thought of the procedure ahead, of him cutting open my wrist, made my pulse quicken, but I couldn't allow myself to show weakness. Not now.
He moved with practiced ease, his fingers hovering just above the sigil, as though assessing where to begin. I could feel the energy in the air shift, the tension between us snapping into something more electric. His touch was suddenly more insistent, a faint pressure against my skin.
"There will be a sharp pain," he warned, his voice carrying a note of dark certainty. "Stay still. Focus on the pain, if you need to, but do not move."
Before I could respond, he pressed his fingertip into the center of the sigil. The heat from the mark flared under his touch, a burning sensation crawling through my skin, but I forced myself to stay still. The pressure deepened, and then there was the unmistakable sensation of something cutting into me, sharp and precise.
I gasped, but only for a moment, forcing my body to remain steady, my focus locked onto the feeling in my wrist. It was almost unbearable, the pulse of pain radiating outward from the sigil, as though it were fighting against his touch, but I clenched my jaw and stayed still, just as he'd instructed.
Corvin's movements were slow, methodical, each shift and press measured with care. I felt the faintest pressure against my skin, the sharpness of his nails digging into the sigil, and then the distinct sensation of something foreign being carefully dislodged from my flesh.
I glanced at Corvin as he spoke. "It's done," he said finally, his voice barely more than a whisper. Without hesitation, he brought my wrist to his mouth and licked the wound. A sound of quiet satisfaction escaped him as he drew his tongue along the blood, his eyes briefly closing in apparent enjoyment. The sight made me turn my head, a wave of discomfort rising in my stomach.
"Was that necessary?" I asked, pulling my wrist away from him.
"If you wanted the wound to heal without a scar," he replied calmly. "Then, yes, it was."
I looked down at my wrist, and sure enough, there was no wound. It was as if he had never cut into my skin at all. "That's..." I paused, my fingers gently touching the center of my sigil. "That's amazing." I looked at him then, the questions of what was going to happen now filling my head. "What now?"
"Well, little huntress, that is up to you." He said with a smirk.
"Bullshit." I sat up, my voice sharp. "Just the other day you were about to take my life, and now what? Everything's changed?"
Corvin's smirk remained, but his eyes sharpened, a flicker of something unreadable in them. "Everything has changed, Elizabeth."
I frowned, crossing my arms. "Then explain it to me. I'm not in the mood for cryptic answers."
He leaned back in his chair, observing me with an unsettling calmness. "You've been marked by the Society, and they'll come for you eventually. You are their only way to continue their pact. But now, you're free to move, to make choices. And whether you like it or not, I am part of those choices."
"You said your father wanted you to kill me," I stated.
"He does want you out of the way. With your death, eventually, the Society will crumble." Corvin's voice was steady, but there was something dark behind his words.
"So why haven't you killed me yet?" I asked, feeling the weight of his gaze on me.
"Do you want me to?" he replied, his tone almost playful.
"No," I said quickly, a bit too quickly. "I'm just trying to understand why you helped me and why you're keeping me alive."
Corvin leaned forward slightly, his eyes never leaving mine. "You interest me," he said, his voice soft but carrying an undeniable weight. "Since the very first day you walked into my classroom, you've been my fascination."
I couldn't help but furrow my brow, swinging my legs off the bed. "Why?" I asked, a bit defensively. "I'm not really that special."
"Oh, Elizabeth," he said with a slow smile, his voice low, "but you are. A young huntress who doesn't hate vampires, who secretly dreams of being one. That is so very interesting, indeed."
"I do hate vampires," I shouted defensively.
"Oh, do you now?" Corvin's expression told me all I needed to know. He didn't buy it for one moment. "I've watched you for months, darling. I know how much you want what I can give you. Besides, have you forgotten your confession to me the other day?"
"I recall me saying I just want to be free, and if being a vampire means that, then I'll take what I can get," I stated.
"Ah, yes, but now that you have such a chance, you don't want it?" Corvin asked playfully.
"I…" I looked at Corvin, taking in a sharp, shaky breath. "I don't want to be a monster."
"Oh, I'm hurt," he said, placing his hand over his heart in mock offense. "How long have you wanted to be a vampire? Come on, be truthful."
A distant memory of when I was a small child flashed into my mind.
"Mommy, I know what I want to be when I grow up." I shouted with excitement.
"And what is that my little one?" She asked as she sat me on her lap. "A doctor or maybe a teacher?" I shook my head.
"Nope," I said with a giggle. "No, I want to be a va…vam…" I scrunched my nose, frustrated that I couldn't say the word. "A vampire," I finally said. The shock on my mother's face made me laugh, pulling me out of the memory.
"Since I was able to say the word," I admitted with flushed cheeks.
"Why?" he asked.
"I…I don't really know," I admitted. "When I got older, it was a plan to escape, but when I was a kid, it couldn't have been that."
"Ah, what a puzzle you are." He said with a satisfied grin.
I stood up, my heart racing with the intensity of the conversation. My hands trembled slightly as I paced around the room, trying to steady my thoughts. The memory of my childhood, so innocent, so far removed from the bloodstained reality of now, pulled at me. How had it all shifted so quickly? How had I gone from a little girl dreaming of being something other than a hunter to this? The weight of it pressed on me, suffocating, and I couldn't seem to make sense of it.
"What's it like being a vampire?" I asked as I looked back at Corvin. "You said it isn't like what that man had described that he wasn't really a vampire, just a spawn?"
"He was between life and death. It starts that way at first." Corvin explained. "Sit down, and I'll try my best to explain it." The tone of his voice had shifted to one I was familiar with, something that brought me more at ease.
"Okay, but no more playing around." I said as I walked back to the bed and sat down on its edge facing him.
"When I changed him I didn't complete the change. I left him between life and death, a hollow version of himself." Corvin explained. "We call them spawns, a creature that the society mostly kills."
"My parents brought me to one of their hunts." I said as a ping of guilt tugged at my heart. The family they killed, they didn't seem much different from you." I noted. "Do you think they were like you?" I asked.
"They were my cousins." Corvin answered, his voice both steady and firm. "That is why I killed your parents."
"I'm sorry." I said as a single tear fell from my eye. I wiped it away quickly before anymore could fall after it.
"If I were to turn you, you would be captive by hunger as he was, but not permanently." Corvin stated.
"Would it get rid of this?" I asked as I pointed to my wrist.
"I'm not entirely sure." Corvin replied. "I am curious as to what will happen."
Corvin's gaze lingered on me, dark and intense, and I felt my heart race in my chest. Every instinct screamed for me to pull away, but I couldn't. The tension in the air was unbearable, and when he yanked me closer, I couldn't stop it.
"Please," I whispered, my voice barely a breath. "Don't."
His lips brushed against my skin, warm and cold at once, as he whispered, "You've already made your choice, Elizabeth. This is where it begins."
Before I could react, I felt the sharp pressure of his fangs. They pierced my wrist, sinking deep into the mark of my sigil. The pain was immediate and searing, like fire spreading through my veins. I gasped, the pain nearly overwhelming, but it didn't stop there.
As his fangs dug deeper, I felt something else—a dizzying wave, almost as if my body was being drained of its essence. The pain blurred into something intangible, something I couldn't understand. It wasn't just the ache of his bite, but a draining sensation that left me feeling light, almost weightless, as if the world around me had shifted out of focus. My body went limp, and my vision swam.
The room spun, and for a moment, I forgot where I was, who I was. My thoughts felt like they were slipping away, as if the very foundation of my identity was being pulled apart. I tried to fight it, tried to hold onto myself, but it was like trying to grasp at mist.
My chest tightened, and I realized I could hardly breathe—each breath felt shallow, as though I were drowning in a sensation I couldn't control. It was nothing like I'd imagined. No part of me had prepared for this overwhelming feeling that tore through me like a storm.
And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, Corvin pulled away.
I gasped, my body trembling as I stumbled backward, clutching at my wrist. The sting of his fangs still burned, but the dizzying sensation was fading, leaving me in a state of confusion. My head was foggy, my body weak, as if I had been standing on the edge of something and then pulled back just before falling.
Corvin stood before me, his expression unreadable. Blood stained his lips, but there was something calculating in his eyes.
"You… Bit me," I said breathlessly, instinctively clutching my wrist as if I could protect it from the lingering sensation of his fangs.
Corvin's lips curled into a slow, almost satisfied smile as he stepped back, wiping a small trace of blood from the corner of his mouth. "Ah, it was everything I wanted it to be," he said with a lightness to his voice, as though the weight of what had just happened was nothing more than a fleeting amusement. "The blood of a hunter never ceases to impress me."
My pulse thundered in my ears, the words barely registering in the haze that still clouded my mind. I wanted to say something, anything, but my throat felt dry, as though every ounce of my strength had been siphoned away in those few moments. I swallowed hard, trying to steady myself, but the dizziness refused to leave.
I looked down at my wrist again, the bite mark still throbbing faintly under my skin, a constant reminder of what had just occurred.
"You…" I faltered, my voice shaky. "Why?"
"That tis a question isn't it." He said with a sadistic laugh.
"Just answer the fucking question." I screamed.
"Oh, what a mouth you have." He said with a laugh. "I'm a vampire, my dear, what did you expect exactly?"
He had a point. I had leaped out of a window because he asked me to. I had followed a vampire to a strange land because he promised me freedom. I had to be the stupidest hunter ever to be born. At any moment, he could just kill me, and I wouldn't be able to stop him. I was like a fly trapped in a spider's web.
"I will take what I please from you," Corvin said before leaving the room. The door slammed shut behind him, and the sound of the lock clicking into place rang through the silence, accentuating just how fucked I was.
I stood there for a long moment, staring at the door, trying to process everything. My wrist still burned with the memory of his bite, a reminder of the power he held over me. I was trapped once again because of my own stupidity.