Page 12 of Wicked Vows (Cursed Darkness (DarkHallow Academy) #1)

Lysithea

T he corridor to the Lower Fourth Shadow Manipulation class swallows the light from the floating candles.

The shadows here are thicker, older, and they press in on me with a physical weight.

Go figure that this class is right now, right after I’ve been ‘promoted’.

Still, it’s better to get it over with than wait around for it and the dread that comes with walking into a class of older students.

Even at twenty-one, this is a daunting prospect for me.

It’s pushing me out of my comfort zone and into what I have a horrible feeling is the lion’s den.

It suddenly strikes me that of all the classes, surely Vocal Magic should’ve been the one where I was pushed forward.

Or is that because they are too scared of any progress I make, so they are holding me back?

I push the heavy oak door open. The classroom is a tiered amphitheatre, steeped in a deeper darkness than the rest of the academy. The air hums with a dangerous, controlled power.

My gaze instantly falls on Evren, who occupies a seat in the far corner, a void that seems to pull the darkness towards him, making the air around him visibly colder.

Of course. At least the other two aren’t here. I can handle one guy who doesn’t speak and gives me creepy, dead roses.

I choose a seat on the opposite side of the amphitheatre, as far from him as possible. The tiered stone is cold beneath my hands as I slide onto the bench. Professor Umbra materialises at the front of the lecture hall, a being of pure, animate night.

“Welcome, Miss Lysithea,” his voice rustles. “Your talents will be better suited to this level of study.”

“Thanks,” I mutter as all eyes turn to me.

Umbra starts the lesson off by instructing the class to manifest a familiar. A creature woven from your own darkness, bound to your will.

My shadows writhe at my feet with a shared sense of indignation. They don’t want to be bound. They want to bite.

I let them.

A serpent coalesces from the darkness pooling around me.

It’s long and sleek, its scales shimmering with consumed starlight.

Its eyes are chips of violet, and when it opens its mouth, its fangs are needles of pure void.

It coils around my legs, a living piece of my soul given form, its silent hiss an echo of the scream I keep locked in my throat.

My gaze flicks across the room to Evren. A skeletal raven sits perfectly still on his shoulder, its form flawless, its empty eye sockets fixed on my serpent. It doesn’t move. It is a perfect, silent effigy of death.

He meets my stare. There’s no challenge, no threat. Just a cold, quiet acknowledgement. He sees the monster I’ve made, and his doesn’t flinch. I look away.

Professor Umbra drifts past my desk, his formless shape pausing for a moment. “Articulate,” is all he says, the dry rustle of his voice a commendation.

I sit there in silence as Umbra comments on and adjusts the other students’ creations. My gaze drifts over to Evren again. He is still watching me with that unnerving stillness. I squirm with discomfort.

The serpent raises its head, its violet eyes fixed on the skeletal raven.

It hisses, a soundless vibration that I feel through my entire body.

A challenge. The raven doesn’t react. It just sits there on Evren’s shoulder, a perfect, unmoving statue of death.

It doesn’t need to posture. It knows everything ends eventually.

My serpent seems to understand this, coiling tighter around my leg, its aggressive posture turning defensive.

That’s when things get weird.

Weirder.

The raven lifts off from Evren’s shoulder and flies silently towards me. It lands next to the serpent and bows its head. As the class and Umbra watch, my serpent hisses but then settles in a pleased coil, its tongue flicking out gently, relaxed but still alert.

The raven lifts off the ground and lands on my desk, staring at me. I feel Evren’s gaze through the raven’s eye sockets.

The raven tilts its head, a jerky, unnatural movement.

It’s not looking at me; it’s looking through me.

The cold of the grave seeps from it, a tangible aura that makes the air around my desk taste of dust and finality.

My serpent, a creature born of my own rage, rests its head on my boot, completely placid. A traitor.

The raven hops closer, its skeletal claws making no sound on the stone. It taps its beak once on my textbook, right over a chapter on shadow weaving. A message. A question.

What the fuck do you want? My gaze snaps across the room to Evren. His expression is unclear, a blank canvas of bone-white skin. But I feel his focus, a needle-sharp point aimed directly at my mind.

He’s in my head. Not with words, but with a feeling. A sense of shared silence. Of understanding an ending.

“Fascinating,” Professor Umbra’s voice rustles beside me, making me jump. “A spontaneous symbiotic bond. The construct seeks resonance with a compatible power signature.” He sounds like a biologist who’s just discovered a new species of parasitic wasp.

My serpent uncoils, rising to stare at the raven.

It doesn’t hiss. It just watches. The bell shrieks, a jarring, ugly sound that shatters the moment.

The raven dissolves into a puff of black dust, and my serpent melts back into the shadows at my feet.

I look back at Evren, but he’s already gone.

A ghost who was never there. I stare at the empty space where he was sitting.

My skin still prickles from the raven’s presence, that bone-deep cold that seems to seep into my marrow.

The other students file out, chattering about their familiars, but I remain frozen in place.

What just happened?

I gather my books with shaking hands. The textbook where the raven tapped feels colder than the rest, as if it’s absorbed some of that grave-chill.

A spontaneous symbiotic bond.

I slam the book shut and bolt from the classroom.

The hallways feel different now. The shadows seem more aware, pressing closer to my skin like they’re trying to whisper secrets I don’t want to hear. Hurrying back to my room, I push open the door and enter, slamming it behind me and fixing the locks into place.

“Why me? Why now?” I mutter as I throw my bag on the bed and turn to the bathroom. “Why have they left me alone for two years, and now they are tormenting me? Why? What’s changed?”

In a huff, I strip off and turn the shower on.

I climb in and let the frigid water crash over me, making my breath come in gasping pants before it slowly heats up.

I want nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep for a week, but I told Reena I would meet her for dinner.

It would be rude not to show up, and I feel like I’ve offended way too many people in the last couple of days to add another to my list. One who doesn’t appear to have an ulterior motive, but who the fuck knows anymore?

I’ve never been a great judge of character.

Finishing up my third shower of the day—a luxury I never take for granted after only being allowed to bathe in the sink at the workhouse—I dry off and pull on a black dress that reaches the floor and covers up every inch of my skin, except my hands and face.

I brush my hair, pile it into a messy bun, and pull on my boots.

The walk to the dining hall feels like a funeral march.

Students part before me in the corridors, their whispers following in my wake.

Word travels fast at DarkHallow. The girl who made Verik look like an amateur.

The girl who belongs to Dathan now, apparently.

The girl whose shadow familiar made nice with the resurrection boy’s death-bird.

I’m a walking collection of rumours and half-truths.

Reena is waiting for me at the dining hall entrance, dressed in blood red similar to me. She smiles, showing me her fangs and leads me to my usual table. “Figured you’d be more comfortable here,” she says.

“Thanks.”

“What are you in the mood for?” Her eyes wander over the buffet section hungrily and then land with what appears to be a reluctant grimace on the blood station.

“Do you eat food?” I ask curiously.

She shakes her head. “No, it makes me feel ill. Wish I could, though.”

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable if I eat,” I say, showing the same courtesy she did to me.

“Oh, please,” she scoffs. “Stuff your fucking face, bitch. Let me live vicariously.”

“You sure?” I ask with a short laugh.

“Hundred per cent. Get the roast lamb. It smells divine.”

I nod, grab a plate, and do as she says. The lamb is tender, the potatoes are crispy, and the gravy is rich. It’s a meal fit for a final supper. I carry it back to the table, acutely aware of the three sets of eyes tracking my every move.

I sit down opposite Reena, who has a fresh cup of blood.

“So,” she says, her voice low. “Are you just going to let them stalk you?”

“What do you suggest I do?” I ask, cutting into the lamb. “File a restraining order with Blackgrove?”

She snorts. “Yeah, right. He’d probably frame it and hang it in his office. No. You need to pick one.”

My fork clatters against my plate. “Pick one? It’s not a fucking dating show.”

“Isn’t it?” Her eyes gleam. “They’re circling. The minute you show favour to one, the other two will either back off or escalate. Either way, it breaks the stalemate.”

I stare at her, my appetite gone. The idea is insane. It’s manipulative. It’s also the most brilliant, terrifying piece of strategy I’ve ever heard. “Which one?” I ask to entertain her.

She snorts. “Don’t ask me. I stick with vamps. This is your show.”

My show. If only. I feel like the girl who is about to get hunted down and murdered in a horror movie.

“Evren,” I say when she presses me with her stare.

She nods slowly. “The one who doesn’t speak. I like it. Less conversation, more fucking.”

“Ah!” I gasp, my cheeks heating up. “Do not.”

She is laughing away to herself, while my imagination runs away with me.

I shove the thoughts away so hard, I nearly get whiplash. “Glad you find my predicament so amusing.”

She stops laughing, but her expression is still one of amusement. “Look, you have three very sexy and dangerous guys hovering around you. Take advantage of it.”

“You don’t understand. I have limitations.” My face flushes like the flames from Verik’s fire magic.

“Meaning?” she asks, taking a sip of blood.

“I can’t get close to anyone.”

“Physically, or…?”

“Both. Without getting all woe-is-me, I had a rough start before I came here. I don’t like people touching me, and if I choose to touch them, get close to them, scream their name…” I make an explosion gesture with my hands.

Reena’s eyes go wide, and she nods. “Okay, yeah. Fuck. Yeah. I completely understand, and I didn’t think. I’m sorry. That must be rough.”

You have no idea . I recall Jenson’s face the moment his brain turned to water.

It will stay with me for all eternity. I can’t, I won’t put myself in that position again.

I won’t put myself in a position to care about someone and then kill them.

It’s selfish, but it’s the way it is. Besides, those three?

They aren’t the caring type. They are looking for a conquest, not a relationship.

They probably have a bet on who will get to me first. Dathan probably thinks he’s winning after his public claim and so-called defence in combat class.

I sigh and shovel more food into my mouth, ignoring their stares and Reena’s slightly pitying gaze.

I know she doesn’t mean to do it, but I don’t blame her. I’m pathetic.