Lisa Everhart adjusted the strap of her backpack as she made her way through the crowded halls of Blackwood Academy. The buzz of students talking, lockers slamming, and teachers calling for order blended into a familiar symphony of routine. She exhaled slowly, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that had clung to her since the night before.
She had dreamed again.
A nightmare
The same one that had haunted her since childhood—a shadowed figure standing in the middle of a battlefield, surrounded by destruction. His back was turned to her, but she always knew who he was. His presence was overwhelming, a mix of sorrow and unimaginable power. The dream always ended the same way: with him turning toward her, eyes glowing with an eerie light, reaching out before everything went black.
Lisa shook her head. It's just a dream.
She reached her locker, twisting the dial absently. A voice pulled her from her thoughts.
"Lisa! You good?"
She turned to see her best friend, Claire, eyeing her with concern. Claire had a talent for reading her moods, even when Lisa tried to hide them.
"Yeah, just… tired," Lisa muttered, forcing a smile.
Claire leaned against the locker beside hers, flipping her dark curls over one shoulder. "Liar. You've been acting weird for weeks. Is this about the dream thing again?"
Lisa hesitated. "It's nothing."
"Right. Because you always zone out in the middle of conversations for nothing."
Lisa sighed, shutting her locker. "I don't know, Claire. It just feels… different this time."
"Different how?"
Lisa opened her mouth to explain, but the words stuck in her throat. How could she describe a feeling of impending doom?
Before she could answer, a commotion erupted near the entrance of the school. A few students gasped, stepping back, while others whispered excitedly. Lisa frowned, standing on her toes to see past the crowd.
Then she saw him.
A boy stood in the doorway, his presence commanding without him even trying. He was tall, lean but strong, his black hair slightly tousled. But it wasn't just his looks that caught her attention—it was the way the air felt wrong around him. Heavy. Dark. As if the world itself bent slightly in his presence.
Lisa's breath hitched. No way.
It was him.
The boy from her dreams.
Her heart pounded as his piercing gaze swept over the students, indifferent to the attention he was drawing. Then, for a fraction of a second, his eyes met hers.
Lisa felt everything around her fade—her surroundings, the voices, even the ground beneath her feet.
The moment ended just as quickly as it began. The boy looked away and walked deeper into the school as if he had never noticed her at all.
Lisa stood frozen, her hands trembling slightly.
Claire nudged her. "Who is that?"
Lisa swallowed hard.
"I don't know," she lied.
But deep down, she already knew.
And she was terrified.
Kol Vaelros hated the stares.
He had barely stepped into Blackwood Academy, and already, eyes were on him—whispers, curious glances, and the occasional wary expression. It was always the same, no matter where he went. He had a presence that people couldn't ignore, a weight in the air that made them uneasy.
He didn't care.
The only reason he was here was because Jacob insisted. Blend in for now, he had said. We need to figure out what the witches are planning before we make any moves.
Kol didn't argue, but he hated it. School was pointless to him. None of these humans mattered. None of this mattered. But for now, he played along.
His eyes scanned the hallway, assessing. The scent of sweat and perfume his senses, but beneath it, he could detect something else—something different. A familiar energy, faint but present.
Then, his gaze locked onto her.
Lisa Everhart.
For a moment, something shifted in the air. She stared at him, wide-eyed, her face pale as if she had just seen a ghost. Kol smiled. He recognized her.
Then, just like that, the moment passed.
"Damn," someone muttered from a nearby group. "Dude looks like he could kill someone just by looking at them."
Kol smirked slightly. They have no idea.
After class.
Lisa hurried out of the room, needing space to think. But before she could take two steps, a voice stopped her.
"You keep staring at me."
She froze.
Slowly, she turned. Kol stood there, arms still crossed, his sharp eyes boring into her.
"I-I wasn't—"
"Yes, you were." His tone was unreadable. Not accusing, but… curious.
Lisa swallowed hard. "you just—You look familiar, that's all."
Kol studied her for a long moment.
Something about the way he looked at her made her skin tingle.
Then, he smirked slightly.
"You're not wrong."
Lisa blinked. "What?"
He stepped closer, and she felt her breath hitch.
"We've met before,"
Later That Night…
Lisa sat on her bed, staring at the ceiling.
She needed answers.
Digging through her desk drawer, she pulled out an old leather journal—one she had kept since she was young. It was filled with sketches and notes about her visions, about the things she had seen but never understood.
Flipping through the pages, her hands trembled.
And then she found it.
an address.