It's Reyna again.
She stood before me with those amber eyes, a fire unkindled. It was like she was staring into my soul, the quiet intensity made it hard to breathe. It spoke volumes and I had to fight the urge to look away. Funny thing, she's just as tall as me even though I'm second tallest in the year.
Not that there are many people in this sick academy. After all- the name is Bloodkeep. I wasn't surprised when I came to this school.
I already knew what to expect from this place when I came here in the first place.
Reyna. Foreigner. Legend. Enigma. Possibly part-time alien. Whatever label you slap on her, one thing was clear: I needed answers. And not the vague, cryptic kind Sam kept tossing at me like fortune cookie riddles. I wanted the real stuff. The juicy intel. The "why-the-hell-was-she-bleeding-from-the-eyes" kind of answers.
Yeah. That.
It happened in the infirmary. One minute she was fine—stoic, unreadable, probably judging my choice in injuries. The next, her eyes were leaking crimson like she'd just binge-watched a horror movie in reverse. And Sam? Sam gave me that look. You know the one. The "I-know-something-but-I'm-bound-by-an-ancient-oath-of-silence" look. Classic Sam.
So I did what any rational, emotionally compromised teenager would do: I tugged Reyna's hand and led her to the quietest corner of the school. The one behind the old music room, where the piano keys were haunted and the janitor refused to mop. Romantic, right?
She didn't resist. Which was weird. Reyna could've snapped my wrist like a breadstick if she wanted to. But she followed, silent as ever. Her face was a blank canvas—no emotion, no twitch, no clue. I could've been dragging a mannequin for all I knew.
"Okay," I said, trying to sound casual. "So, bleeding eyes. That's... not normal. Unless you're starring in a supernatural drama. Which, honestly, wouldn't surprise me at this point."
Still nothing.
I sighed. "Look, I'm not asking for your blood type or your Hogwarts house. Just... why? Why did it happen? Why won't Sam talk? Why do you look like you're about to vaporize me with your mind?"
She blinked. Progress.
I leaned against the wall, trying to look cool and failing spectacularly. "You know, three days ago I was joking about cafeteria meatloaf and trying to beat my high score in Flappy Dragon. Now I'm interrogating a girl who may or may not be bleeding magic."
She tilted her head. Still silent. Still unreadable.
"Reyna," I said, softer now. "I'm not trying to pry. I just... care. And I hate feeling like I'm the last one to know what's going on. Plus I wanna know if something spicy is going on. Ok forget that part -"
A long pause. Then, finally, she spoke.
"It's not something I can explain. Not yet."
Cryptic. Of course. But hey, it was a start.
"And Sam—"
Her face twisted. Not literally, but you know that look people get when they say something that tastes like betrayal? Yeah, that. Like the name itself was cursed. Honestly, that reaction shocked me more than the whole bleeding-from-the-eyes thing. Because in my humble opinion, Sam and Reyna are both part emo, part ghost, and possibly part cryptid.
So I took her weird pause as a "No, Sam doesn't know why my eyes went full horror movie, but he's probably involved because he's Sam and he's allergic to normal."
And then she did the thing. The soul-stare. You know the one. Like she was calculating my expiration date or trying to decide if I was worth saving in the apocalypse. I shivered.
"I want you and Sam to meet me here at midnight," she said, voice cracking like she'd just cursed herself. "No delays. Don't get caught."
Excuse me? Midnight? With Sam? Don't get caught? What was this, a thriller documentary where the good guys die in the first ten minutes?
"Right," I said, because apparently my mouth works faster than my brain.
She nodded once, turned, and walked away like she hadn't just dropped a plot twist on me. I stood there for a full minute trying to process what just happened. Then I clenched my jaw and began the slow, dramatic walk back to my dorm. Sam wasn't there. Of course. Probably buried in some dusty tome at the library, researching ancient curses or how to summon emotional support demons.
Midnight. With Sam. Don't get caught.
Those words kept echoing in my head like a bad remix. And then—because my life is a walking fever dream—I felt something cold creep up my arm. I looked down. Icicles. Forming. On my fingers.
What. The. Actual. Hell.
I don't know how I got pulled into this mess, but I'm in it now. And Sam and Reyna? They're already knee-deep in whatever this is. Secret crimes, cursed meetings, and now spontaneous frostbite.
And I think I have powers. I just made ice. Not metaphorically but literally. I think I'm a laboratory experiment.
The worst part? I think they did something to me. Not out of malice, maybe. But out of ambition. Out of obsession. I might be their greatest achievement… or their biggest mistake.
I don't know what's worse: having powers I can't control, or realizing I might not be real at all.
Jeez. I really hope that's not it because I do not wanna lose my parents.
This is going to be a one long year.