The spiral staircase wound downward into darkness, each step echoing like a whisper from the bones of the school itself.
"Anyone else feel like we're walking into a horror movie?" Stephen muttered, his voice bouncing off the walls. "Except in this one, we're all the clueless pretty people who die first."
"Speak for yourself," Daemon growled from ahead. "I intend to walk out of this alive."
"Wow, Daemon. Ever the optimist."
Hope tightened her grip on London's arm. The deeper they descended, the stronger the energy became—like magic had soaked into the stones. It hummed beneath her skin, wild and old.
London glanced sideways. "You feel it too?"
Hope nodded. "It's not just magic. It's… blood. This place has history. And it's calling to something inside me."
They reached the bottom of the staircase and entered a narrow tunnel carved out of the earth, lit by glowing moss and flickering torches that ignited on their own as they passed.
"Creepy, but convenient," Jessa muttered.
Raphael's nose twitched. "There's a scent… old blood. Vampire. Lots of it."
Stephen lifted an eyebrow. "I haven't had a party that intense in decades."
Daemon stopped them at a split in the tunnel. "Three ways again."
Hope sighed. "Of course."
"Split up?" London asked.
Daemon hesitated. "We should stay together—"
"No," Hope interrupted. "If Richard's trapped or in danger, we'll cover more ground this way."
Stephen groaned. "Fine, but I'm not going with Daemon. He never laughs at my jokes."
"Because they're not funny," Daemon replied dryly.
They formed into three pairs:
Hope and London.
Jessa and Raphael.
Stephen and Daemon.
Celeste lingered behind. "What about me?"
Daemon narrowed his eyes slightly. "Go with your sister."
"No," Hope said suddenly. "Come with me and London."
That earned her a surprised look from everyone—especially Celeste.
Hope only nodded. She didn't want Celeste alone. Not with the tension radiating off her. Not when something about her felt… off.
The three groups disappeared into their separate tunnels, torches lighting automatically as they moved.
---
Tunnel 1 – Hope, London, and Celeste
"This place is ancient," Hope whispered, her eyes scanning the etched walls.
Celeste didn't respond. Her eyes darted nervously as if she were waiting for something—or someone.
London glanced at her. "You okay?"
She forced a smile. "Yeah. Just… overwhelmed."
> They'll never choose you, the whisper echoed in her mind again. Not while she's alive.
Celeste shook her head violently.
Hope placed a hand on her shoulder. "You sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine," she snapped, then softened. "Sorry. Just tired."
London pointed ahead. "There's something there."
They approached what looked like a chamber door, sealed with silver vines that pulsed faintly.
Hope raised her hand and the vines recoiled as if they recognized her.
Inside was a massive underground library—books floating in place, pages rustling in nonexistent wind.
In the center sat a glass pedestal. On it—a map of Blackmoor.
London picked it up. "There are tunnels everywhere."
Hope stared at the red 'X' near the east forest boundary. "That's where we found Richard's journal…"
Celeste stepped back, eyes wide. "We need to go. Now."
Hope turned, suspicious. "Why?"
"I just—I don't feel good."
But before they could question her further, a loud BOOM echoed down the tunnel.
---
Tunnel 2 – Jessa and Raphael
They were moving quickly, Raphael's senses guiding them through tight corners.
"You're quiet," Jessa murmured. "Is it the blood scent?"
"Partly," he admitted. "And partly you."
She blinked. "Me?"
He stopped, facing her. "You've been avoiding me. Ever since the forest. Ever since…"
She looked down. "I thought if I ignored it, it would fade. That I imagined it."
"You didn't."
The space between them was electric. Tense. Familiar.
"I like you, Jessa," he said plainly. "I have for a while."
Jessa's lips parted—but before she could speak, the tunnel shook violently.
Dust rained down.
They looked at each other.
"Hope," she whispered.
---
Tunnel 3 – Stephen and Daemon
"...and that's why you should never try to summon a demon while wearing a crop top," Stephen concluded cheerfully.
Daemon didn't look at him. "Are you ever serious?"
"Absolutely. When it matters." He gave his brother a look. "You could use a joke now and then."
Daemon exhaled through his nose. "The enemy we're dealing with isn't one for jokes."
"You say that like you know something I don't."
Before Daemon could answer, they turned a corner—and walked straight into a wall of dark crystals, pulsing with magic.
Daemon's eyes narrowed. "Shadow binding."
"Someone's trying to trap us."
And then they heard it—echoing from behind the crystals.
A voice. Weak. Gasping.
"Help…"
Stephen froze. "Was that Richard?"
Daemon stepped forward—and the crystals reacted violently, lashing out in sharp tendrils.
He fell back, bleeding.
"Okay," Stephen said, shielding his brother. "Now it's personal."
---
Back at the Vault – A New Threat Emerges
As the three groups each faced danger, the floor of the vault chamber shifted again.
From beneath the journal's pedestal, a new doorway slid open.
And from it… stepped a boy.
Dark hair. Grey eyes.
Smiling.
He looked no older than fifteen.
But something about him reeked of ancient power.
He picked up Richard's journal.
"Let's see how far they get without Daddy."
---