Love Spells and Monster Boys

Nyra’s POV The blood wasn’t mine. At least, I didn’t think so. It was drying in a perfect halo on the marble floor, still warm enough to steam faintly against the chill seeping through the dorm walls. My reflection wobbled in it—pale, wide-eyed, and a little too calm for someone surrounded by gore at seven a.m. That was the first red flag. The second was the mark burning on my wrist, glowing faintly like a branding iron straight out of hell. “Okay, Vale,” I muttered under my breath. “Either you’ve sleep-murdered a roommate again, or this school has serious housekeeping issues.” No answer, of course. The dorm was empty. The sheets on the opposite bed were shredded, the air thick with copper and ozone—like lightning had struck inside the room. Every instinct screamed run, but I froze. Not because I’m brave. Because the second I moved, the sigil on my wrist flared brighter, whispering something that sounded suspiciously like my name. It wasn’t a sound, exactly. More like a pulse of thought pressing behind my eyes. Nyra. “Fantastic,” I hissed. “Now I’m hearing blood talk.” The Academy sirens wailed outside, low and guttural, echoing through the ancient halls. Someone had felt the surge—of course they had. Silverveil Academy might look like a crumbling Gothic cathedral, but it was rigged with wards that screamed louder than my anxiety whenever forbidden magic was used. And apparently, whatever I’d done in my sleep counted. I grabbed the nearest towel and wrapped it around my wrist. The mark hissed, sizzling the fabric. Pain licked up my arm, sharp and electric, and I bit down a curse. Hide first, panic later. The hallway outside was chaos—students rushing out half-dressed, whispering rumors that the wards had detected a “soul rupture.” Perfect. Because if there’s one thing I needed on my first day, it was being the reason everyone thought the apocalypse had started. I shoved my hands in my pockets and slipped into the crowd, keeping my head down. No one looked too closely. Why would they? I was just another scholarship case—the mortal charity pick who somehow got into a school for monsters. My only goal was to survive orientation without anyone sniffing out what I really was: a liar with a fake identity and a knack for attracting supernatural disasters. “Move it,” a voice snapped behind me. I turned—and stopped breathing. He stood a head taller than everyone else, sharp suit, sharper eyes. Silver, like a blade catching sunlight. His presence rolled off him like smoke, and people parted instinctively. Vampire, my brain supplied. Not the shy, brooding kind—this one looked like he’d drain you in the hallway just to prove a point. “Sorry,” I muttered, sidestepping. His gaze flicked down, catching the faint glow bleeding through my towel. My stomach dropped. “Careful,” he said quietly, voice silk over glass. “You’ll burn through the fabric if you keep lying.” I froze. “Excuse me?” He smiled, not kindly. “Your mark. It reacts to deceit. Didn’t they tell you that, Nyra?” My name on his tongue hit like a gunshot. He shouldn’t have known it. I hadn’t introduced myself to anyone here—not even administration, thanks to a little identity switch-up at the gate. “How—” I started. The hallway lights flickered, plunging everything into shadow for a heartbeat. When they came back on, he was gone. Only the faintest echo of cologne and danger remained. I exhaled shakily. “Sure. That’s normal. Definitely not ominous.” But the towel was smoking now. The mark beneath my skin throbbed like it was alive, and every step I took buzzed with static energy. I made it to the end of the hall before my vision doubled. The blood in my veins didn’t feel like mine—it felt borrowed. Heavy. Ancient. Outside, the courtyard stretched in eerie silence. The sirens had stopped, replaced by the rhythmic clang of the Academy bells. Each toll vibrated through my bones. The air shimmered faintly, warping the sunlight into prisms of silver. I stumbled toward the fountain at the center. The water reflected me—then didn’t. For half a second, another girl’s face stared back: same dark hair, same eyes, but hollow. Like something wearing my shape. “Who the hell are you?” I whispered. The reflection smiled. My wrist burned. A voice behind me answered instead. “You really shouldn’t ask questions you don’t want answered.” I spun. Silver Eyes stood under the archway, sunlight dying on his skin. He looked almost human now—if humans dripped that kind of lethal grace. The other students avoided him, cutting wide arcs as if he carried a plague. “Following me already?” I shot back. “Do vampires here not have classes?” He tilted his head. “Silas Verrin. And no, classes are for the living.” “Charming. I’d offer you a drink but I’m fresh out of O-negative.” His lips twitched—almost a smile. “You’re bleeding truth, Vale. Do you even know what that mark means?” I opened my mouth to lie, but the mark sizzled, betraying me. Pain lanced up my arm and I hissed, jerking back. He stepped closer, voice low. “That symbol binds lies to consequence. It doesn’t like secrets.” “Good thing I have none,” I gritted out. The mark flared bright enough to blind me. “Liar,” he whispered. Before I could retort, the ground trembled. A wave of cold surged through the courtyard, and the fountain’s water shot upward, freezing midair into crystalline shards. Gasps rippled through the students. Someone shouted for the wardens. I stumbled back as my mark seared white-hot, spreading up my forearm in branching lines of light. The reflection in the ice showed both of us—Silas standing perfectly still, and me glowing like I’d swallowed a star. “What did you do?” he demanded. “I didn’t—” My throat closed. The sigil’s voice thundered in my head now. Name. Claim. Remember. The ice exploded outward. Screams filled the courtyard. When the shards hit the ground, they melted instantly, forming crimson puddles shaped like runes—each one spelling a single word. VALE. Dozens of students turned toward me. Silas’s expression shifted—recognition, shock, and something darker. He reached out, grabbed my wrist through the light. “You shouldn’t exist.” Then the world went white. The last thing I heard was his voice, close to my ear, cold and reverent: “Welcome to Silverveil, Nyra Vale. Let’s see how long before they figure out what you are.”