The Boy with Crimson Eyes
1026 Words
The next morning came veiled in fog thick enough to swallow the light. Ravenwood’s bell tolled six times, its echo carrying through the gray courtyard.
Aria slipped through the corridors, the journal hidden beneath her jacket. Every instinct told her to throw it away, to pretend she’d never seen the words inside—but curiosity was stronger than fear.
The page with her father’s gravestone symbol burned in her mind.
How could that mark appear in an old prophecy, in a school she’d never heard of until two weeks ago?
As she turned a corner, she collided with someone—hard. Books scattered, papers flew like startled birds.
“Watch where you’re—” she started, but the words died on her lips.
It was Damian Vale.
Up close, he was taller than she remembered, his presence commanding without effort. His eyes weren’t red now, but gray—pale and cold, like the world before dawn.
“You should pay attention,” he said quietly, crouching to pick up her fallen journal. His fingers brushed the leather, and his gaze sharpened. “This isn’t yours.”
She snatched it back. “It was under my door. Maybe you should mind your own business.”
“Maybe I should,” he murmured, though his tone said he wouldn’t. “But you don’t know what you’re carrying.”
Aria frowned. “You keep talking in riddles. If you’ve got something to say, say it.”
He hesitated, as if weighing something heavy, then leaned close enough for her to feel the chill radiating off his skin.
“Ravenwood feeds on secrets. Some things here are buried for a reason.”
The Library’s Whisper
Later that day, Aria slipped into the school library—a cathedral of shelves and dust, where candles burned low despite the daylight outside.
The silence was alive, whispering in the cracks between the books.
She traced her fingers along the spines until she found an ancient volume, its title in a language she didn’t recognize. When she opened it, the words bled into shapes—symbols matching those from the journal.
Suddenly, the air grew colder.
The whisper became a voice.
“The blood of the cursed awakens. The seal trembles beneath the forbidden shelf…”
Her vision flickered, and the floor beneath her glowed faintly red.
Then a hand slammed the book shut.
Damian stood over her, eyes burning now—truly red, like molten rubies.
“Are you insane?” he hissed. “You could’ve triggered the seal.”
She stepped back, heart hammering. “What’s wrong with you? What’s going on here?”
He clenched his jaw. For the first time, he didn’t look composed. He looked… frightened.
“This library is built on a prison,” he said quietly. “And you just knocked on the door.”
The Blood Stain
That night, the storm broke. Thunder cracked over Ravenwood, and rain lashed against the glass like claws.
Aria couldn’t sleep. The mark in the journal haunted her—the same mark now faintly visible beneath her collarbone, glowing like an ember whenever lightning flashed.
She stumbled from her bed, heading for the mirror.
Her reflection stared back—paler than before, eyes rimmed in crimson.
Then, behind her, the reflection shifted.
Damian.
He was there, in her room, without the door opening.
“You need to leave,” he said, voice low but desperate. “Now.”
Aria’s anger flared. “No more warnings, no more riddles! Tell me what’s happening!”
His expression tightened, and for a moment she saw the predator behind the calm façade—the ancient hunger in his eyes.
“There’s a reason no one comes near me, Aria. It’s not superstition. It’s survival.”
He stepped closer, the air thickening between them. “Every vampire bound by blood law is forbidden to harm a human. But the Veil—the barrier that keeps our instincts sealed—is breaking.”
“Vampire?” she whispered, disbelief tangled with fear. “You’re joking.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned his face slightly toward the light—enough for her to see his fangs glint.
Her pulse raced. “If you wanted to hurt me, you would have already.”
“Don’t test that theory.”
Another flash of lightning revealed the blood on his sleeve—dark, fresh, not his.
“What did you do?”
His eyes flickered. “Saved you. For now.”
The Blood Moon Warning
By morning, Ravenwood buzzed with unease. A student had been found unconscious near the northern courtyard—pale, with two puncture marks on her neck.
The headmistress, a statuesque woman in mourning black, declared it a “medical incident.” No one believed her.
Whispers spread: vampire attack. Old blood stirred. The Veil weakening.
Damian didn’t show up to class.
Aria couldn’t focus. She replayed last night in her head, his words, the look in his eyes, the tension in his voice when he said survival.
By dusk, she found herself standing beneath the old clock tower, waiting.
He appeared like mist—silent, sudden, inevitable.
“You shouldn’t have come,” he said, though there was something softer in his tone now.
“I had to. You said the Veil was breaking. What does that mean for me?”
His gaze lingered on her mark, now faintly visible against her skin. “It means you’re the key.”
Her breath hitched. “To what?”
“To ending both our worlds.”
The wind rose around them, scattering crimson leaves across the stones.
Somewhere in the distance, the first bell of midnight rang.
Damian stepped closer, his voice barely a whisper against her ear.
“If the Council learns who you are, they’ll kill you.”
“And you?” she asked, trembling.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I’m already damned either way.”
For the first time, his hand brushed hers. His skin was cold, but his touch burned through her like fire.
And though she didn’t understand why, Aria knew she wouldn’t—couldn’t—stay away.
- Writer
