Chapter 54: The Ghost, the Girl, and the Drowning Voice
{IRIS}
"It’s truly all right," I murmured, brushing off his concern with a small smile. "Besides, Caroline buys me food and gives me things."
Zephyros hovered before me, the dim, ghostly light surrounding him tightening like a breath drawn in irritation.
"Because she is treating you like a servant she pays in breadcrumbs," he replied, voice cooling into frost. "If that is all you want, I could buy you far better food and far better things. Luxuries. Rarities. Whatever you desire."
A soft laugh escaped me before I could stop it. His seriousness, paired with that sharp, aristocratic glare, was both amusing and oddly endearing.
Zephyros narrowed his eyes even further, arms crossing, the faint shimmer of his form rippling like disturbed mist. "Perhaps I should give that girl a fright. Something gentle. Something harmless. Just enough to humble her... and make her obey."
"No!" The word tore out harsher than I intended. I frowned at him, heat rising to my cheeks. "Don’t do anything like that. Caroline isn’t a bad person. She’s just..."
"Spoiled," he supplied.
"Well..." I tried.
"Selfish," he added smoothly. "And utterly lacking in basic empathy to the point of being rude."
My mouth opened—then shut again.
He wasn’t wrong.
But I still didn’t want him haunting my roommate into submission.
"Just... stay away from that girl," he muttered, turning his head aside with all the theatrics of a displeased monarch. "I don’t like her one bit."
I didn’t answer.
What could I say?
Caroline wasn’t cruel. Simply demanding, thoughtless, persistently loud in a way that made solitude feel like a rare luxury. She could be kind when she remembered to be.
And she was my roommate—avoiding her completely was impossible.
So I held my tongue and allowed Zephyros’s frustration to settle like dust in the air.
He watched me quietly for a moment, his gaze sharp and unblinking, a relic of a proud ghost who once breathed authority.
Then, abruptly, he turned toward the distant spires of the academy library, something flickering through his expression.
"Those brats..." His voice deepened, colder. "They dared to fight inside my territory?"
"What is it?" I asked softly.
"Wait here."
"Huh? Zephyros—"
Before I could question him further, he was gone, dissolving into the wind like a candle snuffed out.
I blinked at the sudden emptiness he left behind.
"...What was that about?"
Whatever it was, it didn’t seem like something I should get involved in. The academy was full of strange rumors and stranger students. Ghost duels were probably just one more madness among many.
I sat again beneath the shade of the willow tree and returned to my book, letting the soft rustle of pages drown out the world.
Eventually, I slipped into a comfortable rhythm—reading, humming faintly, matching my breathing to the steady lap of the lake’s water.
Until a voice disrupted the quiet.
"Finally, that ghost has left..."
I froze.
The voice was feminine—soft, melodic, almost lullaby-gentle. Yet... I saw no one. Only the wide, tranquil lake and a few distant students who were far too far away to have said anything.
My pulse quickened.
I lifted my head slowly, eyes scanning the empty bank. "...Hello?"
"Right here..." the voice cooed, airy and sweet, like a breeze dipped in honey.
I frowned and turned toward the lake.
The water lay still as glass, reflecting the pale sky above. Nothing stirred. Nothing shimmered. Nothing—
And yet something beckoned.
Curiosity nudged me forward. Before I fully registered the movement, I was standing at the lake’s edge, my shoes sinking slightly into the damp earth.
My reflection stared back at me. A faint breeze rippled the surface—once, twice—until my likeness blurred... shifted... changed.
A woman stared back.
She was beautiful in a haunting, delicate way—blue hair like silk flowing underwater, skin luminous as moonlit snow, eyes soft enough to lull a heart into sleep.
"Come closer..." she whispered through the reflection.
I shouldn’t.
Every instinct in me said I shouldn’t.
But the water called like a cradle, a gentle invitation, a soft promise of warmth, belonging, quiet.
My body leaned forward, breath shallow.
And then—
The lake roared.
Water surged upward, cold and violent, swallowing me whole.
====
{VAL}
A few days ago—when I first entered the academy—I had gone to search for Iris.
But before I could call her name, I found her by the lake, sunlight slipping through her hair, and that damned ghost lingering beside her with an expression entirely too pleased.
She smiled at him.
She enjoyed his company.
Something twisted inside my chest. A dark, unfamiliar heat. Annoying. Persistent. It scraped along my ribs like jealousy, though I refused to give the feeling a name.
I was too old to be feeling this way.
"What’s this?" I muttered under my breath. "She’s already attracted a male?"
Ridiculous. Irritating. Annoying.
I left before she could see me, the sour ache in my chest worsening with every step.
Later that night—rather than speak to her in person—I sent a single drop of blood into her room, letting it crawl across the floor like a silent crimson spider until it perched on her desk.
Through that drop, I watched her.
She had fallen asleep while reading the student manual, head tilted awkwardly into her hand. A soft breath escaped her lips every few seconds, steady and peaceful.
My gaze lowered to the necklace around her throat—the one Zephyros had given her—and something sharp twisted through me again.
I wanted to tear it off her.
Snatch it. Crush it. Reduce it to dust.
Why was she wearing another man’s gift so carelessly?
So trustingly? She didn’t even know what that necklace contained.
But I did.
I knew it held a protective charm. A powerful one.
Which meant I couldn’t destroy it because it would protect her.
With a restrained sigh, I dispelled the blood. The single speck evaporated from her room, returning to me as nothing more than a faint warmth on my palm.
Back in the male dormitory, I sat with my eyes closed, hoping the irritation would fade.
It did not.
If anything, it throbbed harder.
"What a ridiculous feeling," I muttered to myself. "She’s only a means to an end. Nothing more."
Yet telling myself that didn’t change a damned thing.
I pushed away from my chair and moved toward the tall glass window. My reflection did not look back—only a blank surface, a mocking reminder of what I was.
"This could work in my favor," I murmured. "If she managed to rope in that elusive ghost... then all the better."
Zephyros was powerful. Irritatingly so. Convincing him to assist my plans had been impossible. Fortunately, Daimon failed to convince him too. The ghost remained neutral.
But Iris... Iris had accomplished it within days.
Like I though . . . my lips curved. "You will indeed be the key to my goal."
The next thing I knew, I called her—only to remind her not to speak to me at school. Her voice on the other end held the faintest disappointment. The sound curled hot in my chest in a way I despised.
Was that... satisfaction?
Was it because she wanted to see me and I refused—a petty punishment for growing too close to that ghost?
And yet, at the same time, I needed her near him. It served my purposes.
Ridiculous.
I ended the call abruptly.
"What am I? A teenager?" I muttered as I ran a hand through my hair. "I’m far too old for this kind of nonsense."
Before classes began, I busied myself with what mattered: meeting with the noble vampires, greeting the academy’s Dean, confirming that Daimon remained under control—and not plotting something prematurely disastrous.
I knew why he was here.
Because I was here.
Because within this academy lay the noble bloodlines he needed to gather, one by one, to reclaim the legacy he believed belonged to him.
At least he wasn’t openly taking everything by force.
He could.
He possessed my body, after all—my strength, my power, my legacy.
But he couldn’t fully control it since it wasn’t his body. He needed time. A slow accumulation. Patience he never had in life but was forced into now.
And time... time was my only advantage.
Even if Daimon held my body, he could not control it fully.
Not overnight.
Not while I still lived.
Not while my soul remained lodged in this withered, inconvenient vessel.
And the best part? He did not know I was alive. He thought he had killed me, not knowing that I couldn’t be fully killed. Not by his hands at least.
No one knew except Sebastian, Vladimir’s dead parents, and my few generals.
That single ignorance was the crack through which I intended to shatter him.
Still... everything was fragile. Everything was borrowed time. And the scales were tipping, slowly but surely, in his favor.
By the time I reached the library, my thoughts were a labyrinth of plans and counterplans.
I scanned the students milling about—potential allies, potential pawns, potential sacrifices—each one necessary if I wanted to reclaim what was stolen from me.
Only one person was indispensable.
Iris.
The very key that might turn the tide in my favor.
