Love Letter in Blood: l Fell for My Vampire Half-Brother

"The girl in the third row, sixth seat." The professor picked up the seating chart and pushed up his glasses. "Mitchell Julian, stand up. What were you muttering in your sleep?" Just as she was about to respond, Professor Vivian added, "Next time, don't sleep in class. If you do, at least don't talk in your dreams." The classroom erupted in laughter, but Julian didn’t feel embarrassed—her heart was pounding wildly. After everyone left the classroom, she slowly got up, only to accidentally knock over her cup. “Oh, s**t. What is going on today? This is my brand-new skirt!” When she got back to the dorm, all she wanted was a good nap, but her roommate reminded her to check the news. “What happened?” Julian asked. “A wildfire? Which state?” “In the west,” the roommate said grimly. “But this time the casualties are… well, too many. Three hundred and eleven people. It’s really horrifying.” The west?! Julian’s heart skipped. She quickly dialed her mother’s number. The call wouldn’t connect, and she waited anxiously, silently praying. “311 people? If I remember correctly, the population of our town was around 300…” Still no answer. The silence felt like a terrifying prelude. A fog filled her mind, and in her blurry vision, all she could see was a bat, scorched to death in the flames. “What’s wrong, Julian?” her roommate asked. “Is your family in the west?” “Yes. I’m just really nervous. I don’t know what to do.” She tried the home landline next. “Try to relax. The west is huge. I’m sure they’re fine.” That number didn’t connect either. Julian ran straight to the administration office but was stopped on the way by her academic advisor, Mr. Shelter. “Julian!” He waved her over. His tightly furrowed brow didn’t seem like it was just from the sunlight—he looked like he was about to deliver devastating news. “Professor,” Julian followed him into the office. “I’m really sorry. Have you seen today’s news?” he asked gently. Tears welled up in Julian’s eyes from the crushing pressure. Her voice trembled, “Is it… is it about them?” “I’m afraid so.” He took out a handkerchief and wiped his eyes. “The school is granting you a year of leave. This is the last of the funds your parents left you. And this...” He handed her two death certificates, carefully watching this just-turned-twenty-year-old girl, ready to offer his shoulder as she broke down crying. “It was just a wildfire?” she asked through tears. “Yes. The police ruled out foul play. The cause was the extreme heat.” There was nothing else he could do—no profession could stand in the face of death. Back in the dorm, Julian sat in silence on her bed. Her roommate sensed the sadness and didn’t disturb her, just quietly stayed by her side. “Soul extraction...” Julian muttered. In the fog of her mind, she saw a sign in a dark space. “Are you okay?” her roommate asked. “Did you say something about spirits? Don’t scare me. We’re all here for you.” Julian was simply reminded of an old book she once read in the library. “Do you guys believe in the supernatural?” Her roommate gently replied, “Julian, you’re grieving right now. Please don’t fall into something cult-like. It’s scary.” Julian nodded, though her mind whispered, If I could trade my soul for theirs, I would. She packed her things, said goodbye, and went to the library in hopes of finding that book again—but it was closed for maintenance. She shook her head, thinking maybe she was just too distraught. She decided to return home to see if anything had survived the fire. At the nearly destroyed house, tears welled up again. “Mom… Dad…” Julian’s sorrowful voice echoed across the ruins. She ignored the warning tape and ran inside, past the charred living room and into the scorched study. In the center of the room lay a half-burned book. She picked it up and found a map inside—untouched by fire. On it were the words: “To swap souls, come to this place. I’m waiting for you.” It seemed like a childish prank—or something far worse. She checked her phone map, but couldn’t find the location. She studied the hand-drawn directions. "Mist, three o'clock direction, under the pine tree… a snail?" Strange as it sounded, her curiosity pushed her to follow the map. “What the hell kind of ritual is this? Oh, s**t. Do I really have to cut my pinky?” She sighed and used a pocket knife to make a small cut. Within seconds, a thin red line appeared on her pinky, stretching outward. She rubbed her eyes—no illusion. She followed the line, which led out of the house and into a misty field. Then a voice whispered in her ear. “Julian? Julian?” “Who’s there?!” she called out. “Look down,” the voice replied. A well-dressed snail appeared at her feet, wearing a tiny bow tie. “You’re the guide, aren’t you?” Julian asked. “Oh! Such a polite young lady,” the snail nodded. “Just follow the red light straight ahead.” “To where?” she asked, hoping to confirm whether this was truly a soul-trading destination. “To where your heart longs to be. Farewell.” In the blink of an eye, the snail was gone. A faint red glow emerged, and Julian, now convinced that magic and spirits might exist, stepped forward—only to find herself in a swamp. “Ugh, seriously?!” she groaned. “Of course I’d get stuck in a swamp. Damn it.” As the swamp began to swallow her whole, she thought, Maybe dying like this means I’ll see them again... Maybe this is what a soul reunion looks like. She didn’t see the stone nearby, carved with a warning: Once entered, you cannot return. As the mire consumed her, Julian closed her eyes and braced for death—only to wake up somewhere else. “What the hell…” She looked around. It was a massive plaza—eerily empty. Is this the front gate of hell? she wondered. Suddenly, a flock of doves flew overhead—and one plucked out her left eye. “What the f—?!” She touched her face—her eye socket was hollow, but she felt no pain. “Am I dead?” Dizzy and weak, she collapsed in the center of the plaza. A man in a black-and-red cloak caught the eyeball and walked toward her. “You’ve arrived, Julian,” he murmured. Even in her daze, one question burned in her mind: How does he know my name?