I rested my head on the table, hoping the cold surface would anchor me to reality.
But the image of the burning man wouldn't leave. It clung to my mind like soot on skin.
The fire.
The ashes.
The screams.
The strange, glowing mark.
My thoughts raced in tangled loops. A pounding headache throbbed at my temples as the dream—if it truly was a dream—refused to loosen its grip. I felt the weight of it press down on me, making the lecture hall feel suddenly suffocating. The room spun ever so slightly.
I stood up abruptly, drawing the curious glances of nearby students. A few whispered. I didn't care. Mr. Caleb, the professor, was infamous for his zero-tolerance approach to disruption, but right now, that was the least of my concerns.
I hadn't slept properly in days.
The mark on my chest—seared into me like a brand—pulsed intermittently. Not with pain, exactly. More like... urgency. A second heartbeat, tugging me toward something—or someone—just beyond sight. I kept telling myself it was stress, maybe a fever, or the aftermath of another sleepless night. But I knew better.
My legs felt heavy as I dragged myself toward the infirmary, each step fogged by the chaos in my mind. Reality and hallucination began to blur around the edges.
As I neared the entrance, a guy about my age emerged, walking in my direction. His hair was dark, wild, unkempt—he wasn't in uniform. Maybe he'd just left the infirmary.
And then it happened.
The mark on my chest began to thrum, deep and urgent. I stopped dead in my tracks, pressing my palm against the fabric of my shirt as though I could still feel the sensation.
He drew nearer, and our eyes met for a moment. He looked away just as quickly, but then—I saw it.
The mark.
Right there on his neck, peeking out from under his collar.
I froze.
"Hey!" I called out, my voice cracking from surprise and something deeper—hope, maybe.
He stopped and turned, his expression guarded.
An eerie wave of familiarity swept through me. It was irrational, but I felt like I knew him—like I'd always known him.
We weren't far apart now. I didn't move.
"You okay?" he asked hesitantly, rubbing his neck—right where the mark sat.
"Do you feel it too?" I asked, pointing shakily. "That strange tattoo on your neck—what is it?"
His eyes widened. He stepped in closer, voice low. "You can see it?"
I nearly laughed from the sheer relief. I wasn't losing my mind.
Without hesitation, I began unbuttoning my shirt, desperate to show him. Desperate for confirmation.
"Whoa—dude, bro, chill," he said, recoiling slightly, a grimace on his face. "Even if you're gay, this isn't the place, man."
"I'm not—no—I just…" I swallowed hard, yanking my collar aside to reveal the mark. "I have it too. It's real. You can see it, right?"
His gaze locked onto my chest. His breath caught.
"You've got it... too?"
"Yes! And it's been driving me insane. I thought I was hallucinating or cursed or something. But now—now you're here. You see it too?"
"Yeah," he nodded slowly, still stunned. "This is... wow. Okay. Yeah. But, um, please... shirt?"
"Right, sorry," I said sheepishly, re-buttoning. "How did you get yours?"
"Today," he muttered, a shadow passing over his features. "It was messed up, man. Creepy cloaked figures. A knock. I don't even wanna think about it."
My eyes widened. "So I wasn't dreaming. I saw someone get burned alive. Screaming, ash, a circle of cloaks—I thought I was cursed or insane or both."
"You're not alone," he said. "And get this—Elara has it too."
"Elara?" That piqued my interest. "Yeah, I know her. We don't talk much, but still. She has it?"
"Yeah. I just left her. She thinks there may be more of us. She's digging into it, trying to find answers. Said her experience might explain what's happening."
"That's... crazy." I barely whispered the word, stunned.
We stood in silence for a moment, the weight of everything bearing down. My thoughts whirled, trying to reorder themselves into something that made sense.
"What's your name?" he finally asked. "We should probably meet up later. Talk more."
I tilted my head. "You seriously don't know who I am?"
He gave a half-laugh. "Should I? I'm new."
"Oh. Luca," I said, extending a hand. "Luca Vance. I play basketball here. Kind of a big deal."
"Cassian," he replied, shaking my hand. "You've got your phone? I'll give you my number."
I patted my pockets. "Shit. Left it in the lecture hall. I'll have to go back—want to come with?"
"Sure, I guess."
As we ascended the steps toward the lecture theatre, I filled the silence with small talk.
"So, you're new here?"
"Yeah. First day. Classes start tomorrow. You?"
"Second year. Been here a while. Basketball from the jump."
"I'm more into psychology. Second year too—just new to Velmora."
"What made you pick VU?"
He paused, thoughtful. "I don't know. It just... felt right."
I stopped and stared at him. "That's literally my answer too. It just felt like... home."
Cassian blinked. "She was right."
"Who?"
"Elara. She said the same thing. None of us have a real reason for choosing VU. We were just drawn here. It's not a coincidence—it's a calling."
I narrowed my eyes. "What are you saying?"
He stepped closer, expression unreadable. "Do you believe in vampires?"
I stared at him. "What?"
"Vampires. Do you think they're real?"
I blinked, baffled. "You serious?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
I scoffed. "Man, that's—no. Vampires aren't real."
"I hope not," he murmured, but something in his eyes said he wasn't joking.
We finally reached the lecture theatre. Cassian waited outside while I headed in. I walked up the rows to my seat, ignoring my usual crew—Luther, Caspian, and Jaden.
Caspian stopped me, concern in his eyes. "Yo, what's going on with you? You've been off lately."
I offered a weak smile. "Nothing, man. Just... overwhelmed. I'll be back."
He nodded reluctantly, and I returned to Cassian, handing him my phone. He keyed in his number.
"Done. I'll text you after I get back to my dorm."
"You stay in the dorms?" I asked. "I don't. How do we keep in touch?"
"We'll message," he shrugged. "Or meet up after your classes. What time you done?"
"Three."
"I'll be around," he said, already heading off. "Catch you later."
I watched him disappear down the corridor, exhaled deeply, and reentered the theatre.
Jaden gave me a sideways look. "Who was that guy?"
"Just someone who might have answers," I replied, sitting down.
"Answers to what?"
I hesitated. "I don't even know how to explain it. I just... need time."
"If you say so," Caspian said, eyes lingering before he turned back to the lecture.
The rest of the class passed uneventfully. When the bell rang, I stayed behind, my mind still elsewhere.
"Mr. Vance," a familiar voice called.
I looked up. Mr. Caleb.
"Yes, sir?"
"Come here."
I approached, bracing myself.
"Is there a problem?"
"There is," he said sternly. "And it's you."
I frowned. "Sir, I haven't done anything."
"Exactly. That's the problem. Pick up all the trash in this hall and take it to the incinerator. Reflect on what you did. You have until your next class."
"You can't be serious."
"I am. Good day, Mr. Vance."
I watched him leave, stunned. What the hell?
Grumbling, I grabbed a trash bag from the janitor's closet. My friends approached.
"We're heading to the snack shop," Jaden said. "Coming?"
"Can't. I've been punished for... breathing, apparently."
"Why?"
"He wants me to clean the hall."
Luther laughed. "Probably 'cause you kept walking in and out. He's a miserable old man."
We all chuckled.
"Want us to get you anything?" Caspian asked.
"I'm good."
"Catch you later then."
I cleaned quickly—it wasn't too bad. Then I headed for the incinerator.
As I approached, I noticed someone slipping behind the building. A girl. Red hair. Familiar.
Curiosity tugged at me.
I tossed the trash and rounded the corner.
Was she vaping? Hiding something? It seemed like she was vaping.
I wanted to mind my business and turned to leave when the familiar tingling sensation of the mark came again. It felt the same, like with the guy from earlier.
Then the mark flared. Intense. Burning. Alive.
She rubbed the back of her palm where the sensation mirrored mine.
My breath caught.
The mark.
She must have had it too.
Something deep inside me pulled forward. I had to know.
And with every step I took toward her, the mark surged harder.
Stronger.
More certain.