CHAPTER NO 2
Whispers of the Cursed Child
Morning light never truly touched the academy.Even when the sun rose, its warmth seemed to stop at the gate, as if the walls themselves rejected life. Selene awoke to the sound of footsteps and whispers, the usual chorus that greeted her each day.
"She's the cursed one," someone hissed near the door."Don't look at her. My mother says her eyes can steal your soul."
Selene ignored them. She'd learned that silence hurt less than words. She tied back her hair—white and pink glimmering like frost and dawn—and walked to class with her head lowered.
The world outside the window looked almost kind: birds wheeling above autumn trees, river mist coiling like silver thread. But she belonged to the inside, the echoing halls and cold desks. Only her notebook understood her secrets. She drew strange symbols in its margins—patterns that came to her dreams. They looked like constellations, yet none she could name.
One evening after study hour, she stayed late in the library. Candlelight flickered across shelves of dust-heavy books. A page slipped from an old volume and landed at her feet. It was written in a language she didn't know—sharp runes curling like thorns. The letters seemed to move when she blinked.At the bottom, one word stood out in glowing ink:
Noctyra.
A whisper brushed her ear. Selene… come home.
She spun around. Empty air. Only her candle swayed.
The flame stretched suddenly tall, then burst into a whirl of silver smoke. The air folded, the floor rippled, and she felt herself falling—not down, but through. The library, the candle, the world vanished.
When she opened her eyes, she lay in snow that shimmered black beneath a violet sky. Towers rose in the distance, built from obsidian and moonlight. A second moon hung beside the first, red as blood.
Selene staggered to her feet, breath steaming. "Where am I?"
A voice answered from behind her."In my realm."
She turned—and froze. A tall figure stood on the ridge above, armor dark as night, eyes burning crimson. Short black hair framed a face carved from both beauty and war. Fangs gleamed when she spoke again.
"I am Princess Nyra Valeis, heir of the Vampire Dominion. You trespass on sacred soil, human."
"I-I didn't mean to—" Selene stammered.
Nyra's gaze lingered on her hair, her skin, her trembling hands. Something flickered behind that cruel poise—a spark of recognition, or curiosity. "White and rose," she murmured. "The colors of the prophecy."
Guards appeared, shadows with spears."Take her," Nyra ordered softly. "The oracle will decide if she lives."
They bound Selene's wrists, but she barely felt the rope. Her pulse beat in her ears, echoing the same whisper that had haunted her nights.
Selene… come home.
As they led her toward the palace of glass and blood, she looked once more at Nyra. The princess's expression was unreadable, yet their eyes met—blue to crimson—and something ancient stirred between them. Not hate. Not fear. Something far more dangerous.
That night, in her cell beneath the palace, Selene stared through iron bars at a sky she did not know."Why me?" she whispered.
Somewhere above, Nyra stood on her balcony, fingers tight on the rail, heart pounding to the same question.
Neither yet knew that fate had already written their names on the same page.