At the age of 18, every dhampir can decide when their heart stops, but not all of them can choose their allegiance. Melissa Sault is one of these dhampir, a half-blooded immortal whom attends a secondary school built for students just like her--stud...
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The days bled together.
There was no time to stop and dwell on my routine. It formed on its own. I'd awaken after the same dream; darkness all around me and acute awareness of something else nibbling away at my fight or flight response from a distance. I would've thought it toyed with me had there not been such a rush to it, like hair blowing back in an untamed breeze or the backwards jerk of hitting the seat when driving too fast.
The approach seemed to begin at the end of the world and finish at where I stood in that black mass. Two ends of string or carpet rolling towards each other at a rate that was both painstakingly slow and fast enough to make me wonder what I'd do when I found what was on the other side.
If it collided with me, would it kill me on impact? Would it slow and hesitate? Would it stop short and force me to close the gap? Would it see me?
There were too many questions, and every time my curiosity circled back to the most pressing one: should I be afraid?
Last night, I promised to tell Clara about it if it persisted for another day, but when my head hit the pillow I slept through the night like a log. The movement stilled. My phone's alarm blared through the room this morning like it had in semesters past. So as I rubbed my eyes, I realized three things.
First, it was over. Second, I was confused. Third, my inner battles didn't postpone my classes.
Third-year courses shared closer resemblance to final assessments than lessons. First-years were the ones bogged down with more humanlike curriculum, receiving handouts, workbook pages, and chapters to read at their leisure. A tribute to their last year of doing anything that catered to the mortal palette. Second-years shifted into pre-eternal gear by delving into advanced histories of the immortal races, learning the anatomy and pieces of pre-eternal bodies, and beginning training for physical exams that tested our prowess. It was the year we approached the starting line.
But in my year, the final one, the implicit expectation was that we had learned all we needed. Textbooks generally closed in exchange for experience. If we'd just found our footing at the starting line, then we now knelt and began our mental prep for the race ahead. Consideration for alignment was our theme, and so was our entrance to pre-eternal society.
Somehow, the workload and our professors' approach to it was like the vampire attack. Sudden, aggressive, and fast-paced. So much so, that it was easy to forget a relic hung around my neck.
To it's credit, it blended in relatively well by hiding under my collar and cloak. If it poked out from underneath my clothes, then it resembled costume jewelry more than anything else. A gaudy birthday present or a coming-of-age gift, maybe. A hint too formal to go unnoticed, but not obnoxious enough that it warranted questions. Only those that played Truth or Dare that night shot me conspiratorial winks or smirks. I hadn't seen Yoongi since, but I assumed he would treat me like I hadn't worn it at all. As for the times I passed Ezra, a curt nod was all I'd get.
