The bus hummed through the silence of the countryside. The only sound was the dull rhythm of the wheels and the faint creak of leather seats. Ethan sat near the window, his reflection tinted gold by the setting sun, while Seth sprawled beside him, sketching the pattern of clouds as if they hid something.
"Three hours and not a single network bar," Seth muttered. "Either this college is in the middle of nowhere or they've deliberately built a wall around Wi-Fi."
Ethan smirked faintly. "You're acting like we're heading into exile."
Seth looked up, the corner of his mouth curling. "Aren't we? Point Veert. Even the name sounds like an error in translation."
Outside, endless fields of reddish grass swayed like a living tide. The wind carried an unfamiliar scent — metallic, almost sweet. The air grew heavier as the sun dipped lower, and the road narrowed to a cobblestone path that wound through clusters of old statues.
Each statue bore the same emblem — a spiraled lily with veins like lightning.
When the bus finally halted, the signboard read POINT VEERT COLLEGE OF BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES in letters half-worn by moss. The building beyond was ancient, its gothic towers clutching at the evening sky, draped in ivy that glowed faintly under the moonlight.
"Welcome to your new home," the driver said, his voice oddly hollow.
Ethan and Seth exchanged a glance.
The orientation hall was half-lit, filled with murmurs and the faint hum of old projectors. New students sat scattered, whispering about exchange credits and scholarship placements.
Then, the twins entered.
"Hey, is this seat taken?" asked a cheerful voice.
Ethan turned to see Fortea, her auburn hair tied into two uneven knots, and beside her stood Erena, who had the same face but colder eyes, her uniform perfectly pressed.
"Not at all," Seth said quickly, moving his bag aside.
Fortea smiled, sitting down. "You both look lost. First day jitters?"
"Something like that," Ethan replied. "We didn't expect the middle of nowhere to look this… gothic."
Erena's gaze flicked toward the window, where the courtyard shimmered faintly under crimson moonlight. "It's beautiful, isn't it? The ground here is said to bloom only under the Blood Lily."
"The what now?" Seth asked.
"The flower this region's known for," Fortea chimed in. "Scadoxus multiflorus. They call it the Blood Lily because it only blooms where the soil remembers pain."
Ethan blinked. "You're serious?"
She laughed lightly, but her sister didn't.
From the stage, a man stepped into the light — Professor Fargrave. The same dull, deliberate tone from their last lecture carried through the hall.
"Welcome, students of Point Veert. Here, we pursue the study of life — and what follows after it."
The silence that followed was heavy. No one clapped.
Fargrave continued, "Your exchange term will focus on hybrid botanical systems — particularly our ongoing research on the Blood Lily. In this land, the line between recovery and resurrection blurs."
Seth's pen stopped moving. That word — recovery — again. The same whisper he'd heard back in their old college echoed faintly in his mind:
"Not everything that heals, lives…"
He shook his head, clearing the noise.
Later that night, their dorm room was a mixture of old wood, humming pipes, and faint phosphorescent glow from the fungus crawling up the corners.
Seth dropped onto his bed. "You know what's weird? Fargrave didn't even mention the other plant they sent us to study — Turbina corymbosa. You remember the proposal?"
"Yeah," Ethan replied, sitting on the desk. "They said it was a comparative hybrid analysis. But here, it's just the Blood Lily. Maybe the files were outdated."
Seth frowned. "Or maybe they didn't want us to know."
Outside, faint chanting drifted through the wind. It wasn't in any language they recognized — rhythmic, like a ritual.
Seth stood up, peering through the window. Down in the courtyard, cloaked figures were gathered in a circle around the statue of a lily. The petals on the stone glowed red.
"Tell me I'm not seeing this," Seth whispered.
"You're seeing it," Ethan replied quietly.
One of the cloaked figures looked up. For a moment, its face reflected the moonlight — pale, carved with something like veins of glass. Then the circle dispersed.
Morning came with a strange stillness. The campus grounds were damp, as if it had rained blood. Students moved with practiced smiles. Everything looked normal — too normal.
At breakfast, Fortea waved at them. "Sleep well?"
"Define well," Seth muttered. "Does everyone here do weird midnight cosplay rituals?"
Fortea laughed, almost spilling her drink. "You must've seen the Lily Rites. They say it's for academic bonding — the seniors do it every week. Don't worry, you'll get used to it."
Erena, beside her, said softly, "It's not a joke. The rites feed the land. Without them, the lilies would die."
Ethan looked up from his tray. "Feed the land?"
"Don't overthink it," Fortea said quickly, flashing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
Later, in the research greenhouse, the twins led them to their assigned plot. The air smelled faintly of copper and ozone. Dozens of Blood Lilies stood in bloom, their petals glistening like wet glass. But something was different about these.
Ethan knelt to inspect one — its roots intertwined with crystalline shards that pulsed faintly with light.
"This isn't just Scadoxus multiflorus," he murmured. "It's… merged with something else."
Seth crouched beside him. "Looks like the crystal's feeding it."
"Or the other way around," Fortea said softly behind them. Her eyes gleamed crimson in the light.
For a moment, none of them spoke.
Then, the greenhouse door creaked.
The janitor — an old man with sunken eyes and a limp — shuffled inside. His name tag read Rourke. He looked at them for a moment before muttering, "Don't touch the roots after sunset. They bite."
Seth blinked. "What did he just say?"
Ethan looked over his shoulder, but the man was already gone.
That night, the whispers returned. Louder. Clearer.
"Roots remember blood. Petals remember names."
Seth sat upright in his bed, sweat cold on his forehead. Outside the window, the lilies were glowing again — this time brighter, alive with pulsing veins of red.
Ethan stirred awake, eyes meeting his friend's. "You hear it too?"
Seth nodded slowly. "Something's wrong with this place."
The clock ticked once — and then stopped.
From the hallway came the sound of footsteps. Slow. Wet. Deliberate.
A knock at their door.
Three times.
And a girl's voice.
"It's time for the next rite."