*/Just wanted to clarify something here. Poppy's sleep schedule is the same as most vampires in vampire lore. She sleeps during the day and is active throughout the night. Or atleast that is the case outside of the Vladiscar Castle territory. There is a barrier around the castle's domain that prevents the sun from shining its UV radiation. A powerful spell made by Velomirra reforms the sun into a golden light moon to make it appear very similar to the sun./*
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While suspended in the Still-Bloom—body inert in my bed coffin, mind dancing with blood echoes or skill threads—I first felt a tug at my navel, as though a spider's thread were slowly being pulled back into me.
The arena around me began to fray at the edges. Petals rose into the air in reverse, fading into silky strands that floated upward and vanished.
A pulse returned to my veins. The heartbeat, which had slowed to a trance-like whisper, began to throb gently, guiding my soul back into my body. Magic threads unravelled from my limbs like sleep-silk.
My scythe, Nyxiphage, vanished into a whisper of red mist and returned to my body's side, as if pulled by magnetized blood.
My eyes fluttered open first, but I didn't inhale immediately. I lied still, like a statue in repose, my body crystallined in the candle-glow of my chamber.
For a brief moment, I resembled the dead. Until I gasped awake. One sharp breath, like a drowning soul surfacing.
[Still-Bloom Exit Detected]
Mental state: Clear. Blood resonance stabilized.
Skill Data Logging Complete.
Muscle memory imprint: 92% retention.
The cold of the blood-threaded mattress, pressed against my back. I flexed my fingers. My toes curled.
There's a moment of dissonance—still feeling the swing of my scythe, the pain of a phantom cut, the echo of an ancestor's sorrow.
"...Weird. It felt so real. Is this what lucid dreaming feels like? Or is it called reverse lucid dreaming... hmm."
A knock interupted my musings. Selene walked in with... is that a bird with some parts missing sitting on her shoulder? That has to be the oddest looking bird ever. It's cute though. In a haunting kind of way.
"Selene, what type of creature is that?" I asked as I stretched. The bed was so much more comfortable than the coffin. There were no stiffness today.
Selene sat a glass of blood at the table as I sat down. Once she bowed, she stepped back. "This creature is called the Corvythrae. They are of an ancient race born from the fusion of spectral energy and the dying breath of the World Tree during the Sundering of the Veil—a cataclysm that tore the veil between life and death. When the tree's roots cracked through realms, the souls of lost birds merged with broken starlight and the whispers of forgotten gods, giving rise to these intelligent, eerie beings."
She stopped in her explanations to pet the cute corvythrae on its head. It tweeted in content. So cute!
"They first appeared in haunted forests, circling above places steeped in tragedy or celestial corruption. It is said they act as both sentinels and shepherds—guarding realms where the boundary between life and afterlife is thinnest."
The bird jumped off Selene's shoulder and onto the table and moved toward me. It resembled a large raven with iridescent feathers that shimmered with starlit hues. Its eyes were ghost-white or silver, glowing softly in darkness, giving it an almost blind but all-seeing appearance. Its wings, when fully extended, seemed to dissolve into drifting motes of light or fog.
"I believe, Mistress, that someone has sent you a message through it."
I paused in my sip and looked up from watching the Corvythrae peck the flower vase. "Hmm? What do you mean by that, Selene? I don't see any paper or parchment in its beak or legs. Where could it be carrying the message?"
"Corvythrae do not carry parchment or scrolls, My Lady. They are the message. By merging with a sliver of the sender's soul, memory, or voice, the Corvythrae can replicate the exact tone, emotion, and even surroundings of the original message. Usually when they arrive at the recipient's location—often materializing from shadows, mist, or a flicker of dead starlight—they reenact the message like a spectral play. The Corvythrae replicates the speaker's voice, expression, posture, even the cadence of their breath—exactly as it was spoken."
"Hmm. Interesting. And how do I receive this message?" I asked as I watched the Corvythrae nibble on the flowers.
"To compel a Corvythrae to recite a message, the recipient must complete the rite of resonance—a subtle, often instinctive action that signals the bird to begin playback. The Corvythrae will not deliver its message to just anyone—it waits for the true resonance, a metaphysical confirmation that the message has reached its intended soul. There are a few ways to trigger the message recital, in your case Mistress, since the sender is unknown to you, it would be best to offer it a drop of your blood. It simply needs proof of identity."
I narrowed my eyes at the bird creature. "Is that so?" Without much thought, I placed my thumb over my bottom left fang and gently nipped the skin drawing a drop of blood. Because of my vampire regeneration, I had to use blood manipulation to hold back from healing it just enough to feed the Corvythrae the blood."
The moment the drop of blood entered its mouth, a sudden sstillness entered the air. The Corvythrae's eyes glowed white, faintly pulsing like a heartbeat. Faint sigils appeared on its feathers—markings from the sender's bloodline.
The voice of the sender then was heard, clear as if they stood beside the recipient. It was smooth and low, never sharp. The tone was like dusk settling over a graveyard—cool, unhurried, inevitable.
To My Granddaughter, Poppy Nyxaria Vladiscar,
You were never meant to remain buried forever.
There are threads you must unravel, and blood you must remember.
In times past, when the Vladiscar name still made gods flinch, we taught our young through fire and funeral.
But tradition is not always wisdom. So I extend another path—a quieter loom, should you choose to take it.
You are hereby invited to attend Marrowhollow Academy of Arcana and Ancestral Arts, under the condition of legacy inheritance and blood-right registration.
Your dorm will await you within the Bone Spire's eastern rib. Your uniform will be tailored before arrival.
Your schedule has already been etched in ink that remembers.
I shall see to your instruction personally.
Attendance is not optional.
But rebellion runs in our line, so I will allow you the illusion of choice.
Should you accept, burn this letter in moonlight and follow the scent of rosemary and regret.
The gates will find you.
Do not be late, my little Thornweaver.
—Madame Morrowind
Professor of Blood and Soul Arcana
Of the Thirteenth Veil, Eternal Loom, and Old Threadline
After the message was fully spoken, the Corvythrae began to dissolve—not die, but released the soul-thread that held the message within. Its feathers turned to a silvery ash and black petals.
"If would seem that your grandmother Velomirra, is under a different identity to hide from Vladiscar's family enemies." Selene must have noticed my confused expression when I heard the name Madame Mirrowind, thus the comment.
"I see. Can you tell me more about this Marrowhollow Academy as we head down to the gardens? I need some fresh air to stretch my wings." I rose from my seat and headed to the door.
Selene bowed. "Oh cause, Young Widow."
~ | 💮 | ~
At the heart of the Veiled Gardens laid a twisting iron gazebo, grown rather than built—its framework composed of living Thornveil Ivy, fused with wrought obsidian and silver-thread filigree. Vines curled upward into spiraled spires, forming an open dome veiled in curtains of ghost silk and shadowed lace, which stirred though no breeze existed.
The structure was circular, with six crescent alcoves along the interior edge—each one gently cradling a different arcane flora, arranged by intent rather than beauty. Beneath the gazebo, the floor was tiled with cracked onyx and old glass, warmed from below by the bioluminescent root web of the Yewshade Lanterns, which glowed in pulse with my footsteps.
I sat under the gazebo twirling a widow's bloom. The flowers in this garden were really strange. Take this flower I'm holding, it was essentially a deep, ink-black rose with velvet petals so dark they seemed to swallow light. Each bloom had a halo of crimson dew clinging to its edges—though it never dripped. The stems were lined with thorns like tiny fangs, which coiled inwards or twitched depending on the emotions nearby.
And the smell? So far it was my favorite in the gardens. A slow, smoky sweetness—like burning myrrh laced with rosewater and rusted iron. It lingered in the air.
"So let me see if I'm understanding this. This Marrowhollow Academy is one of the most prestigious and dangerous magical academies in the world, built into the ribcage of a petrified World Serpent, suspended between dimensions on a seam of ancestral ley-lines. It is a sprawling gothic institution with towers that shift with the seasons, staircases that only move when respected, and portraits that whisper truths instead of flattery.
It is known for accepting not only humans, but all sapient races like Vampires, Witches, Djinn, Dragons, Spirits, Shapeshifters, Fae, Hybrids, and even the rare resurrected dead."
I looked up towards Selene who just placed my breakfast in front of me. "Am I understanding everything thus far?"
"Yes Mistress."
Nodding, I continued after taking a bite of scrambled dragon egg. I moaned in appreciation. Delicious!
"My grandmother, Velomirra, has been under a different identity for the past 20 years and have been attending this Marrowhollow Academy as their Blood and Soul Arcana professor. And now that I'm awake, she wants me to attend as a first year student? Is that everything?" What is this jam on the toast?! It tasted like strawberries dipped in dark chocolate, mangos, and... is that cinnamon apples I'm tasting? Damn this really is the best jam I have ever tasted.
Selene stepped forward and wiped my mouth delicately. "Yes, Young Widow. That is the gest of everything."
I finished my food then stood up, already decided on what I was going to do for a couple of days. "Alright. It seems I have three months till the next start-of-term for the first year's. I should spend some time in the Sanctum of the Forgotten."