The academy felt colder in the days after the disappearances.
The walls breathed frost even when the hearths were lit. Shadows stretched longer than they should. Whispers moved through empty corridors at night — too soft to understand, too clear to ignore.
Some said it was the season shifting — that first brittle edge of winter clawing in. Others blamed the school's aging wards, which flickered faintly after sundown like dying lanterns, their once-pure glow now tinged with an ugly green.
But Cid knew better.
He felt it in his bones. In the silence between breaths. Something underneath the academy had shifted — something old, restless, and ravenous.
Something watching.
In the main hall, beneath the obsidian arch etched with runes that pulsed with soft red light, the first-year initiates gathered. Dozens of them stood in stiff silence, their eyes drawn to the bulletin board like moths to flame. The summons hadn't been optional.
Everyone with even a trace of magical aptitude had been ordered to appear. No excuses. No exemptions.
Some students clutched their satchels tight, knuckles white. Others whispered quietly to themselves, casting protection charms out of habit or fear. A few leaned forward eagerly, like this was just another test to pass.
But most?
Most looked terrified.
Leon stood at the front, tall and straight-backed, the prefect badge glinting against his coat.
"We're being deployed to Hollow Vale," he announced, voice clear but cold. "A breach in the Veil has been detected. Our mission is threefold — reconnaissance, containment, and if necessary… extraction."
A ripple of unease swept through the students. Hollow Vale was cursed territory. Everyone knew it — though no one dared say why. Old maps labeled it with runes long since banned. The few professors who did mention it always spoke with tight jaws and shadowed eyes.
Cid stood near the back, arms folded lazily, white hair falling into his half-lidded gaze.
Boredom.
Or the best imitation of it.
The room shifted when she entered.
Tall. Pale. Black hair pulled into a sharp, high twist. Blood-red lips. Her uniform looked like it had been tailored with knives and wet dreams — tight corset beneath a long velvet coat, leather gloves that clung like skin. Her heels clicked against the stone with mechanical perfection, each step a challenge — and a threat.
Professor Vaelra.
A recent addition to Veilborne. Rumors surrounded her like fog. Forbidden rituals. Expelled students. One rumor claimed she once taught at the Arcanum of Fleshcraft — before it was shut down for "ethical violations."
Cid had heard the whispers.
But what mattered was this: power radiated off her in waves.
Her crimson gaze swept the room — and locked onto his.
He didn't blink.
Neither did she.
Leon cleared his throat, voice faltering only slightly. "Professor Vaelra will be overseeing this operation. She'll accompany us to the breach site. Any disrespect will be—"
"I don't need your warnings," she said smoothly, cutting him off with a slow smile. "I'm very capable of handling boys who misbehave."
Her voice lingered just a little too long on boys.
The message was clear.
So was the invitation.
The hall eventually emptied.
But Cid lingered.
So did she.
He found her waiting beneath one of the side arches, torchlight flickering over the sharp planes of her face. She didn't speak at first — just reached out and let her gloved fingers brush the edge of his coat.
"I've heard things," she murmured. "About what you did to Kael. What happened to Ravyn."
"Don't believe everything you hear," Cid said without emotion.
"Oh, I don't," she smiled. "I prefer to see things for myself."
No one saw them leave.
She led him to her private tower — a high spire overlooking the western cliffs. The air inside was warm, heady with incense and old smoke. Candles floated in slow spirals around the ceiling. The walls were lined with books on summoning, seduction, soulbinding, and worse.
There was a bed at the far end.
Black silk sheets.
No pretense.
Vaelra slipped off her coat and let it fall to the stone with a whisper. Beneath it, her blouse strained at the buttons. Slowly, one by one, she unfastened them, revealing pale skin, laced black underthings, and a wicked little smile.
Cid didn't wait.
Didn't ask.
He pushed her back onto the bed, claiming her mouth with his. His hands tore at her bra, yanking it down to expose her breasts. She gasped — then laughed, breathless — as he pinned her wrists and dragged his tongue along her neck.
She whispered curses and praise in equal measure when he slid into her. Her nails dug deep as he took her slow at first, then harder, rougher, until she was writhing, biting his shoulder to keep from screaming. Her climax hit like a shockwave — her whole body tensed, legs shaking.
But Cid didn't stop.
He fucked her through it, cruel and relentless, making her moan his name, louder, louder, until she broke.
When he left her tower, the candlelight was dim, the sheets soaked with sweat and other things, and Vaelra lay on her stomach, eyes half-lidded, murmuring incantations into the pillows.
In the student dorms, Iris sat at her desk, brushing her long black hair in silence.
She'd seen everything.
From the tower.
Watched them vanish together, watched the light flicker in Vaelra's window.
But she didn't cry.
Her face was blank. Her motions slow. Calm.
She reached beneath her bed and pulled out a thick leather-bound book — its spine cracked from overuse, the pages filled with obsessive, delicate script.
Every girl Cid had touched was listed there.
Every name, every moment, sketched and annotated with chilling precision. Some had dried petals pressed into the margins. Others had drawings — knives, blood, thorns.
She turned to Ravyn's page.
Crossed a line through it.
Then flipped to a new one.
Vaelra.
Her lips curled into a soft smile as she began to write.
At that same moment, in the courtyard, Kael stumbled behind a hedge and dropped to his knees. He vomited thick, dark blood onto the grass, clutching his stomach with shaking fingers.
Something had been slipped into his drink.
Something that burned.
Iris passed by him moments later, humming a tune.
She didn't look down.
At dawn, the mission team gathered at the southern gate.
Cid stood with his usual calm smirk, his eyes scanning the others with disinterest. Leon glared at him, lips tight. Iris stood close, too close — brushing against him with every step, every breath.
She didn't speak much.
But her smile never wavered.
Vaelra arrived last, cloak swirling around her like smoke. Her expression gave away nothing — except for the faint red scratch just visible above her collar.
She made no effort to hide it.
No one dared ask.
Ahead of them, the breach pulsed in the air — jagged, black, unnatural. A tear in reality, alive with magic and hunger. Like a wound that refused to close.
The portal shimmered.
And they stepped through — into Hollow Vale.
Far beneath their feet, buried in roots and ruin, something ancient stirred.
It had tasted blood.
Now it wanted more.