{IRIS}
It had not even been two days, and already I found myself missing Lord Val, Sebastian, and that ever-gloomy mansion I once swore I could not breathe within.
The silence. The cold halls. The suffocating grandeur.
Even Sebastian’s hellish training.
Goddess preserve —I missed that, too.
And yes... I missed Lorcan as well, though not the part where I lived like a half-starved servant under the pack’s whims.
Whenever my loneliness gnawed at , I walked the campus grounds, morizing the winding paths, the ancient statues, and many facilities of the Covens of Midnight.
I made it a strict rule to wander only while the sun was high—bright, warm, and comforting—and to return to the dormitory before the clock dared approach five.
Ever since that night in the library... I had not set foot there.
And I probably never will.
The food on campus was good—too good. But expensive. I knew because I often fetched groceries for the pack; I knew exactly how far coin could stretch.
Left on my own, I would have survived on bread and milk alone, eking out the money Lord Val gave until it bled into months.
Perhaps even a year, if I tortured myself enough.
But, as if he sensed my frugality from another dinsion away, Lord Val left a ssage:
[My Vampire Lord: If you refuse to spend the money I gave you—and do not use the card—I will personally punish you.]
The mont I read it, my cheeks burned and my heart did a strange stutter.
No matter how curious—or shafully thrilled—I was at the idea of punishnt, I would never test him.
Not even for a joke.
So... I ate properly. And good food did soothe the hollow places in my chest.
I kept whispering to myself that a month here would lessen the loneliness. That living alone was sothing I must eventually learn.
I was nearing twenty. I should have known how to survive without a lord, a mansion, or a pack to orbit around.
That afternoon, I decided to read by the lake—a place I had quickly grown fond of. Peaceful. Warm. Bright.
A sanctuary.
A handful of students dotted the area, lounging on blankets or napping beneath the sun.
I chose a spot beneath a great canopy tree, its branches wide enough to cast a gentle shade, and settled myself on the grass, away from the rest.
This had beco my routine: train my body before noon, train my mind in the afternoon, and at night... force myself to read that accursed student manual that was hell bent on sucking the joy from the world.
I was deep into my book—so deep I heard nothing, sensed nothing—until the very air rippled before .
And then—
A face pushed itself out of my open book.
"What are you reading?"
"Ah!" I shrieked, flinging the book with the strength of a dying warrior. It arced beautifully... before plunging straight into the lake.
I scrambled backward on the grass, heart hamring, breath tangled in my throat.
"You—Y-you...!"
Hovering above , in that shimring half-solid form of his, was Zephyros.
The eternal ghost.
The lethargic nace of the library.
The reason my heart had almost fled my body two nights ago.
His yellow green eyes softened into the faintest smile. "Did I startle you?"
"Are you truly intent on killing ?" I demanded, though my voice shook so badly it hardly sounded intimidating. My hands clutched the grass for dear life.
Zephyros chuckled—low, lazy, amused. "Hardly. If I wished to kill you, you would have perished the very first night we t in the library."
"T-then what are you doing here?" I pressed. "Aren’t you supposed to be guarding the library? The Landlady said you couldn’t leave it."
Zephyros raised a brow, crossing his arms as he floated in place, breeze swirling through his spectral hair.
"And is that the reason you refuse to return? Because you think I am chained to that place?"
"After what happened, can you bla ?" I narrowed my eyes, though fear made the gesture pitiful. "I have no idea what your intentions are."
The Landlady had told he wasn’t a malevolent spirit—rely bored, mischievous, and prone to entertaining himself with whatever unfortunate student wandered too close.
Which was not comforting.
At all.
Zephyros drifted closer, expression lethargic. "I admit," he said, "that what I did to you was... a touch extre."
"A touch?" I squeaked, scrambling farther away. "You nearly scared to death!"
He sighed—a long, weighty sigh—and lowered himself until he hovered eye-level with .
"But you are still alive, are you not?" he murmured, tone deceptively soft.
For the first ti, his face held seriousness—calm, quiet, and disturbingly intimate.
A faint wind stirred around us, as if the world leaned in to listen.
I swallowed hard and tore my gaze away. "I know my mistake," I muttered, pushing myself to my feet. "And I won’t do it again."
Anything to escape this—this proximity that felt too . . . intimate for my liking.
Without another word, I hurried to the edge of the lake to salvage my poor, betrayed book. I knelt, reaching out gingerly, praying the pages were not entirely ruined.
Behind , the air stirred—slowly, like mist curling through moonlight.
I did not need to look to know he was watching.
Silent.
Hovering.
Waiting.
And for reasons I refused to admit—my heart beat just a little faster.
"Then why do you avoid the library?" he asked again. "No... why do you avoid ?"
The breeze shifted, carrying his voice around like a whisper of winter air.
He tilted his head, light yellow green eyes glinting with an emotion I couldn’t na.
"Too bad, hmm. . .?" he continued lazily. "Now that you know I can leave the library whenever I wish—you must be disappointed. I imagine you hoped distance might save you." A shadowy smirk tugged at the edge of his lips. "I am rely saying: you may return. I will not frighten you again... and you cannot escape anyway."
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