Damien held Cora's hand, his grip firm yet leisurely, as if he had all the time in the world. The castle loomed before them, a grotesque relic of a forgotten era, its spires clawing at the sky like skeletal fingers. Despite the sun hanging high above, an unnatural gloom clung to the place, swallowing the light before it could touch the ground.
The scent of damp stone and decay clung to the air, wrapping around Cora like a shroud. She shivered, feeling a whisper of something unseen slither along her skin. From the corner of her eye, a dark silhouette stood watching, lurking just beyond the reach of daylight. Her breath hitched, and she blinked—only for it to vanish as if it had never been there.
"Y-you said this was a palace," she murmured, desperate to fill the eerie silence. "Does that mean your ancestors lived here?"
Damien's smirk deepened, as if amused by her attempt to distract herself. "They did," he said smoothly, leading her up the grand staircase.
The wooden steps groaned beneath their weight, a sound swallowed by the thick hush of the abandoned halls. The walls were draped in cobwebs, stretching like ghostly fingers across the once-opulent carvings. The air smelled of age, of dust and something metallic, something that made the fine hairs on Cora's arms rise.
She stopped abruptly, causing Damien to halt as well. "D-did you hear that?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.
He tilted his head, feigning concentration before smirking. "I can only hear the deafening sound of your heartbeat, little bird," he murmured, stepping closer, his presence suffocating yet intoxicating.
Cora swallowed hard. "How about we go back? I'm sure this place is forbidden for a reason."
Damien chuckled, the sound rich with amusement. "Doesn't that make it more enticing?"
"No," she said without hesitation. There was nothing enticing about this place, nothing that didn't scream danger.
"There's no need to be scared." His fingers brushed against hers, his voice silk and sin. "I'm here."
She wanted to believe him, wanted to take comfort in the casual arrogance of his words, but the castle held secrets—ones that whispered through the halls, ones that felt too real to ignore.
They reached a heavy door, the wood darkened with time. Damien pushed it open, and the hinges creaked in protest. The room beyond was untouched by time, dust dancing in the slivers of light that broke through the stained-glass windows. A vast canopy bed sat in the center, its velvet sheets undisturbed.
Cora stepped inside hesitantly. "This… was your room?"
A ghost of a smile touched Damien's lips as he trailed his fingers along the surface of an ornate table. "It was," he murmured, the weight of something unspoken lacing his words.
She watched him, the way his gaze darkened with something unreadable, something that felt far too intimate for a place so cold.
"The last time I told you I was the boy from your dreams, I didn't mean I've lived through those centuries," Damien said, his voice disturbingly casual.
Cora frowned. "So… you're not ancient?"
He laughed, the sound rich with amusement. "No, little bird. Vampires may live for centuries, but even we aren't untouchable."
Her eyes narrowed in thought. "I thought you guys were immortal."
"There's an old tale about that," Damien said, stepping closer, his voice dipping into something almost conspiratorial. "But it's long forgotten."
Her curiosity burned through her initial fear. "Then what kills your kind?"
A slow smirk stretched across his lips, as if he enjoyed the way she clung to every word. "Decaying," he said, his tone almost lazy. "A disease that attacks the heart, rots the body from the inside out."
She shivered at the thought, wrapping her arms around herself.
Damien moved to the bed, sitting down as he patted the space beside him. "Sit," he invited, his voice thick with command.
Cora hesitated before obeying. She turned to him, watching as he leaned back against the headboard, looking far too comfortable in a place that felt anything but.
"I've been reincarnated, little bird."
Her breath hitched, her eyes wide with disbelief. "That's… possible?"
He reached out, ruffling her hair with a smirk. "I'm a special man. Even the heavens can't bear to be without me."
She rolled her eyes. "You're such a narcissist."
His smirk widened. "Something about that word spikes my blood. It keeps me on edge."
Cora shook her head, unable to hold back a small laugh. "You were a prince in your past life… and you're a prince now?"
He stretched, as if the very idea of being anything less than royalty was unthinkable. "I couldn't be anything else. I'm far too perfect to be a nobody."
Cora scoffed, standing up—only to slip on the thick layer of dust. She gasped as she tumbled forward, landing unceremoniously atop Damien. Her hands splayed across his chest, her legs awkwardly positioned on either side of him.
The air between them shifted.
Damien's fingers ghosted over her waist, his dark eyes gleaming with something dangerous. "Careful, little bird," he murmured, voice thick like honey. "I may be a man of self-control, but with you, I doubt it exists."
Cora's breath hitched. She scrambled off him, her face burning. "I-I didn't mean to do that," she stammered.
Before she could fully recover, her stomach growled—loudly.
Damien let out a low chuckle, his gaze glinting with mischief. "Look at you," he teased, "red as a ripened tomato."
She huffed, crossing her arms.
Still smirking, he stood from the bed, his presence looming. "How do you usually eat with your mask on?"
Cora hesitated before answering. "Amelia sneaks food from the cafeteria for me. I eat in a secluded place."
Damien scoffed. "That girl deserves a pat on the back." His tone dripped with sarcasm.
Cora's eyes narrowed. "Are you… jealous?"
He grabbed her wrist, pulling her flush against him. "There's no need to be jealous when I'll be filling that spot," he murmured, his voice a velvet promise.
Her breath caught in her throat.
"Close your eyes, little bird," he commanded, his arm snaking around her waist.
Cora obeyed.
And then the world vanished.
Back in the room they left behind, the shadows stirred. A dark figure emerged from the corners, its presence flickering like an unfinished thought. It lingered for a moment, as if searching—before vanishing into the walls once more.
Meanwhile, in the dean's office, Amelia sat with her arms crossed, her foot tapping impatiently against the polished floor.
She racked her brain , trying to remember if she'd pissed off any professor's recently.
None came to mind—except for the many curses she'd thrown at them in her head .
The woman behind the desk finally looked up, her sharp gaze settling on Amelia. "Where is your other roommate?"
Amelia feigned innocence, tilting her head. "I don't know. Probably busy doing student things."
There was a pause.
Then—
"There's been a change in room allocations. You'll be getting a third roommate." The dean announced.
Amelia froze.
Then—
"What???!".