The first light of dawn filtered through the academy's tall windows, turning the marble corridors a soft shade of silver. For a moment I lay in my bed and listened—not to the morning bell that would soon ring, but to the rhythm of the building itself. Hundreds of heartbeats thrummed through the walls and floors, each a small drum echoing a unique song. Some raced with anticipation. Others thudded slowly, still heavy with dreams. My own pulse remained steady, controlled. I had been taught to master it long ago.
I rose, moving with the quiet grace that had been drilled into me since childhood. My hair hung like a curtain around my face, obscuring my eyes. I pulled on a crisp academy uniform—a dark tunic with silver buttons, the crest of House Sylverne embroidered in pale thread over my heart. I glanced briefly at my reflection in the polished metal of a wall sconce. A beautiful boy stared back, features carved from marble, hair shimmering in the half-light. My smile flickered. Beneath the silk and satin, beneath the polished façade, there was something older watching through my eyes. I let my hair fall forward and turned away.
A soft knock at the door announced Eris's arrival. "Enter," I said, and the door opened to reveal her carrying a silver tray with breakfast. The smell of toasted bread and fruit filled the room. It was almost enough to make me laugh. They thought to feed me this? Eris set the tray on the table and turned to face me, hands clasped. She had slept little; shadows darkened her eyes. Our conversation the night before still weighed on her, I could see. Fear clung to her skin like perfume.
"Good morning, Your Highness," she said, voice steady despite the tension in her shoulders. "I brought your morning meal as requested."
"Thank you, Eris." I motioned for her to pour tea. She did so, movements precise. She had learned quickly. The tea was dark and fragrant. I lifted the cup to my lips, inhaling deeply. It was bitter. It tasted nothing like what I craved, but it served its purpose. As Eris poured, I watched her. Not the way her hair fell over her shoulder or the way the light touched her cheek. I watched the faint pulse at her throat, the fluttering there. Control, Azrael, I reminded myself. Control is everything. "Did you sleep?" I asked casually.
She flinched, almost imperceptibly, at the question. "A little," she admitted. "I was…thinking."
"About what?" I set the cup down.
"About the day ahead," she said. Her eyes flicked to my hair, as if drawn against her will. "About how best to serve you." There was truth there and a lie. She had thought of what she had seen—my eye, that flicker of something beyond human. She had thought about what it meant to serve me.
"Good," I said. "Today will be busy." I leaned back in my chair, crossing one leg over the other. "We have classes. There will be lectures on history and etiquette, combat training, political philosophy. All very instructive." My tone dripped with irony. "But the most important lessons are not taught by the instructors." I let my words hang in the air. Eris waited. "Watch the other heirs," I said finally. "See who gravitates toward whom, who whispers in corners. Watch who smiles too much." I smiled then, and she looked away. "And if you hear anything interesting, bring it to me."
"Yes, Your Highness." She bowed her head. "I will do as you command."
I stood. "We will begin with the morning lecture. Bring my books." As she lifted the stack of leather-bound volumes, I caught her gaze. "And, Eris," I added, voice softening, "do not be afraid to look. It is better to see what you fear than to imagine something worse." Her eyes widened slightly. She nodded. Perhaps one day she would be able to look at me without flinching. Perhaps not. Either way, she would serve.
We left the room and stepped into the corridor. The academy was fully awake now. Students in uniforms of various colors hurried past, their conversations a low murmur. The smell of damp stone and ink hung in the air. Tapestries lined the walls, depicting scenes of past victories and ancient alliances. I kept my head bowed slightly, hair hiding my eyes. Lira Vareth stood at the end of the hall, speaking to a group of girls from the southern islands. Her laughter rang like bells. When she saw me, she lifted a hand in greeting, a sly smile on her lips. I nodded in return.
"Morning, Pale Prince," she called, loud enough for others to hear. "Ready to have your head filled with the wisdom of dead men?"
I smiled. "And your heart emptied by the end of the day?" I replied, voice light, carrying. A few nearby students gasped quietly. Lira laughed, eyes glittering. Our words were a dance, meant to entertain and to warn. Yes, we were friends, but we were also predators of different kinds. Everyone should remember that.
Cael Mirianth emerged from another corridor, white hair shimmering, eyes as cold as the frost in his homeland. He moved like a ghost, silent and precise. He inclined his head in my direction. I returned the gesture. We did not speak. We rarely needed to. There was an understanding between us, a pact of silence.
The lecture hall was a large, semi-circular room with tiered seating. At the center stood a marble podium. An elderly scholar waited there, thick spectacles perched on his nose. He was human, his hair a halo of white. He cleared his throat and waited for us to settle. I chose a seat near the front, flanked by Lira on one side and Cael on the other. Eris stood behind me, slightly to the left, books at the ready.
"Welcome, students," the scholar began, voice dry but firm. "I am Master Thalen. Today we will discuss the history of the Great Pact and the formation of the Dominions." He droned on, reciting dates and names. I listened with half an ear. I already knew this history. I had lived it through the stories of my ancestors. Instead, I watched the room. I studied the faces of my peers.
There was Prince Aram of the desert kingdom, his dark eyes watchful, one hand resting on the hilt of a jeweled dagger. His people valued directness. He would likely challenge me at some point, to test the strength beneath the silk. There were the Lunari twins, who whispered to each other in their musical language and smiled secret smiles. They would spread rumors like seeds on the wind. There was a Tavren youth, massive and silent, his furred hands folded on his lap. His people lived for battle. He would be a formidable ally or a dangerous enemy.
Master Thalen's voice droned on: "The Great Pact was forged in the Year of Ash, when the kingdoms united against the hordes of the Lower Realms…" I closed my eyes, listening not to his words but to the subtle shifts in the room. A muffled cough. A suppressed yawn. The rustle of parchment. The steady thrum of hearts. My hunger stirred, a constant background noise that never quite faded. It would have been easy to lose myself in it, to slip away and follow the sound of a single heartbeat. Instead, I focused on controlling my breathing. In. Out. Calm.
During a break, students stood and stretched. Lira leaned closer. "Do you ever tire of hearing about humans' endless wars and alliances?" she whispered. "As if they matter more than what we do in the shadows."
I gave her a sidelong glance. "History serves as a distraction," I murmured. "While they study the past, we shape the future." Lira's lips curved. She understood. We both had our roles.
Cael's voice was a whisper, cool and detached. "You speak as if we are the only ones aware of the deeper currents," he said. His pale eyes flicked over the students in the hall. "Do not underestimate them. Some hide more than we think."
I nodded. He was right. Not all secrets belonged to my family. The academy was a nest of vipers. Some were obvious. Others disguised themselves with laughter and kindness. It would be unwise to assume I was the only predator.
The afternoon brought combat training. We moved to a wide courtyard where racks of practice weapons waited. Eris stepped back as I picked up a slim, curved blade. The weight was familiar, comforting. Combat instructors paired students off for sparring. I faced Finnian, the Eryn noble with earnest eyes. He grinned, rolling his shoulders. "Ready, Your Highness?" he asked, tone friendly.
"Always," I replied, tipping my head.
We began. Finnian moved with surprising agility. He was clearly trained. He feinted left and darted right, aiming for my side. I parried easily, letting the rhythm of the fight wash over me. Around us, other pairs clashed. Steel rang against steel. The smell of sweat and stone filled the air. Finnian pressed his attack, testing my defenses. I gave ground, let him think he was pushing me back. Then, when he overextended, I twisted, stepping inside his guard. The tip of my blade stopped just short of his throat.
He froze, eyes widening. A bead of sweat slid down his temple. I smiled. "Yield?" I asked softly.
"Yield," he breathed, stepping back and lowering his weapon. He laughed then, breathless. "You're good," he said, admiration clear. "I've not been matched like that in years."
I inclined my head, acknowledging the compliment. "You have skill," I said honestly. "Few here will test you." Few here would survive a real fight with me, but I did not say that. Lira had ended her match quickly, leaving her opponent sprawled on the ground. Cael moved like water, all fluid motion, his opponent unable to find purchase.
After training, we washed and changed. Classes resumed until the sun sank low, painting the sky in shades of orange and rose. Shadows lengthened. Students drifted to the dining hall. I did not. The smell of roasted meat and vegetables wafted toward me, but my hunger required something else. I returned to my room instead. Eris followed, her steps light, cautious.
"You do not dine with the others?" she asked, setting my cloak on a hook.
"Not tonight," I replied, voice even. "There is too much to do." In truth, I could not sit among them and sip broth while my hunger whispered of hearts and blood. My control had limits.
Eris hesitated. "What would you like me to bring you, Your Highness?" she asked, eyes on the floor.
"Nothing you can fetch from the kitchens," I murmured. I saw her swallow. "Stay here," I said. "I will return." Her head jerked up, startled. I did not often leave her alone in the evenings. "And Eris," I added, "should anyone ask, tell them I am studying. If they press, tell them I am with Lira or Cael. Do not let anyone into this room. Understand?"
She nodded quickly. "Yes, Your Highness." Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve.
I slipped out into the corridor, moving like a shadow. The academy's halls were quieter at night, but not empty. Students whispered in corners, lovers sneaked into empty classrooms, secret meetings were held under the guise of study. I knew the layout well enough now to avoid the main patrol routes. I slid down a staircase into a service corridor, then through a door that led to the lower levels. The air grew cooler, damper. The torches flickered.
Below the academy, a labyrinth of tunnels wove between storage rooms, kitchens, and dormitories. Few knew the full extent. I had found a forgotten passage earlier—a narrow corridor that twisted and turned, its walls damp with condensation. It led to an unused storage chamber, long abandoned. It smelled of mold and old wood. It also smelled faintly of something else—salt and copper. Tonight, as I moved through the tunnel, I felt the hunger rise like a tide. My hands tingled. My heart beat faster, anticipation thrumming through me.
In the chamber, someone waited. He was a gardener's boy, a commoner who had been foolish enough to wander where he shouldn't. I had heard him earlier, his footsteps echoing down the wrong corridor. He had followed a whispered promise I had placed in the air like bait. He stood now in the dim light, eyes wide, face pale. "Who's there?" he whispered. "Is someone there?" He could not see me. That was the point. I could see him perfectly.
"Lost?" I asked, letting my voice drift like smoke. He jumped, looking around. "This isn't the way back to the dormitories."
"I… I must have taken a wrong turn," he stammered. He turned toward the sound of my voice, straining to see. "Can you show me the way?"
"Yes," I murmured. "Come closer." He took a step, then another. His heart beat fast. The scent filled the air. "Closer," I whispered. He reached a hand out blindly, fingers grazing the damp wall. I stepped forward, slipping through the darkness like water. He gasped when my hand closed around his wrist. "Shh," I breathed. "This won't hurt long." I smiled, though he could not see it. He did feel the sharpness when it came. I do not need to describe the rest. There are some things better left to the imagination. Suffice it to say that when I left the chamber, I was no longer hungry.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, ensuring no evidence remained. The boy lay on the floor, eyes closed, face peaceful as if sleeping. He would be missed in the morning. They would search and find him. They would whisper of ghosts and curses. I would be far away by then. I stepped back into the corridor and closed the hidden door. Above, the academy pulsed with life. I climbed the steps slowly, letting the echoes of my actions fade. When I reached my room, I paused outside the door. Eris stood exactly where I had left her, hands clasped. Her eyes widened when she saw me. She looked at my lips, my hands. "Your Highness?" she whispered.
I smiled, showing perfect white teeth. "Study time is over," I said lightly. "Get some rest. Tomorrow will be another long day." She hesitated, then nodded and slipped out. I closed the door behind her and leaned against it, listening. There was no sound of alarm yet. Good. My smile faded. I crossed the room and poured water from a decanter, rinsing my hands in the bowl. The water turned pink for a moment, then clear. I dried my fingers on a cloth and sat on the edge of the bed.
I thought of the gardener's boy's face, the moment before he understood. He had not even known my name. Most would say that made what I had done worse. Perhaps it did. But hunger is not a moral thing. It simply is. I ran my tongue over my teeth, feeling the faint points of my fangs. I whispered to myself: "We are loved because they do not know what we are." The words settled around me like a cloak. I closed my eyes and breathed.
Morning came again, and with it the tolling of bells. Students murmured about the boy who had gone missing. Some said he had run away. Others whispered of monsters. I sat in lecture, hands folded, and did not smile. I watched. I listened. Lira leaned over, voice low. "Did you hear? A servant is missing."
"Yes," I said softly. "These old buildings have so many places to get lost." I could feel Eris behind me, stiff and silent. She had heard, too. She had not spoken of it. Fear kept her obedient. Fear and perhaps something else. Respect, maybe. Or pity. I doubted the latter. In this place, pity was a luxury few could afford.
Classes proceeded as usual. We studied strategy and philosophy. We practiced debate. We walked through the gardens and memorized medicinal herbs. It was easy to slip back into the routine, to act as if nothing had happened. That was the trick with secrets. You had to make them mundane. Only then could you carry them without staggering.
During an afternoon break, Finnian sought me out. He looked troubled. "Have you heard about the servant?" he asked, brows furrowed.
"I did," I replied. "It's unfortunate."
"Do you think it was an accident?" he pressed. "There are rumors…about creatures in the tunnels."
I tilted my head. "Creatures?" I echoed, as if amused. "Like what?"
He hesitated, then laughed, embarrassed. "Ghosts. Demons. You know how people talk."
"People always need something to fear," I said. "If they have nothing, they invent it." My smile was gentle, reassuring. He relaxed.
Later, as dusk fell, I found myself in the library. The room smelled of parchment and dust. Candlelight flickered, casting shadows between the stacks. I ran my fingers over the spines of books older than the academy itself. I did not read. I let my mind wander. It was here that Cael found me. He moved silently, a phantom among the shelves.
"Another has gone missing," he said, voice quiet. It was not a question.
"Yes," I replied, not turning. "You heard the whispers."
He stood beside me, arms folded behind his back. "You're growing reckless," he murmured. His eyes slid to my face. "This place is not like home. There are eyes everywhere."
I faced him, hair falling forward. "You think I will be discovered?" I asked. I kept my tone light but my muscles tensed. Cael rarely spoke without purpose.
"I think you underestimate the weight of a single disappearance here," he said. "The academy will not tolerate anything that disrupts the façade. Do what you must. But be careful."
I studied his face. He looked sincere. Or as sincere as Cael could. "And if I don't?" I asked.
"Then when they come for you, I will not stand in their way," he said, voice matter-of-fact. "We are allies, Azrael, not brothers." His words were sharp but not cruel. He was reminding me of the stakes.
"I appreciate your honesty," I said. I meant it. Better a warning than a knife in the dark.
Cael inclined his head slightly. "Do not mistake my warning for weakness," he added. "We all have hungers. We all have secrets. Control yours." He turned and left. His footsteps made no sound on the carpeted floor.
I watched him go and exhaled slowly. His words were a chill down my spine. He was right. One missing servant was a whisper. Two was a pattern. Patterns drew attention. Attention was dangerous. I needed to be more careful. But the hunger was not a thing that could be scheduled. It could not be denied indefinitely. It demanded.
As I left the library, I passed a window. Outside, the courtyard was bathed in moonlight. Two figures stood near the fountain—Finnian and a girl with golden hair. They leaned close, heads almost touching. They laughed softly. Their hands brushed. For a moment, I felt something like envy. Not for the love—I did not understand love—but for the simplicity. They could touch without fear. They could laugh without worrying that someone would taste the copper beneath their skin. They were allowed innocence.
I turned away. Innocence was not for me. My world was made of shadows and blood and silk. I had been raised to rule, to hide my hunger behind a smile, to tear the hearts from those who threatened my house. I was the Pale King's heir. My destiny was carved in stone long before I drew my first breath. There was no escape. There was only acceptance. I embraced it.
Back in my room, I found Eris sitting on a stool near the window, mending a tear in my cloak. She looked up when I entered, needle paused. "You're late," she said before she could catch herself. Her eyes widened at her own boldness.
"I am," I agreed. I closed the door behind me and leaned against it. "You can speak freely here," I added. "Your honesty may save your life one day."
She set the cloak aside, fingers trembling slightly. "I heard what people are saying," she whispered. "They think there are monsters in the tunnels."
"There are," I said bluntly. She flinched. "But they are not what they think," I added. "They are not creatures with horns and tails. Sometimes the monster looks like a prince." I stepped closer until I stood in front of her. She did not shy away this time. "Tell me, Eris. Do you think I am a monster?"
Her throat worked. She met my gaze, her eyes dark and steady. "I think you are what you are," she said slowly. "And I think you do what you must to survive." Her voice was a whisper. "Does that make you a monster? Maybe. But…if you are, then everyone else here is pretending not to be one."
I stared at her for a long moment. Then I laughed, a low, genuine sound. "You are sharp," I said, impressed. "Do not say such things to anyone else. They will not understand." I reached out and, with surprising gentleness, tucked a strand of her black hair behind her ear. She stiffened but did not pull away. "Sleep," I said. "Tomorrow we start over."
She gathered her sewing and rose. She bowed, a deep bend that spoke of both respect and caution. "Good night, Your Highness," she murmured. She left quietly, closing the door behind her.
I sat down at my desk and lit a candle. Its flame flickered, casting shadows on the walls. I opened a blank journal and dipped a quill into ink. For a moment I stared at the empty page. Then, in elegant script, I wrote: Day One: two hearts taken, one lesson learned. I paused, watching the ink dry. My father had always kept a record of his feedings, not to remember his victims but to remember his restraint. Perhaps I should do the same. It would remind me of the balance I must maintain—the balance between hunger and control, fear and power.
Outside, the wind whispered through the academy's stone walls. Somewhere in the distance, laughter echoed. Somewhere else, someone sobbed. In my room, I sat in silence, listening to the heartbeat of the building. I smiled, but it did not reach my eyes.
When sleep finally came, it was shallow and dreamless. I woke before dawn, the hunger already stirring. Another day. Another mask. Another dance. I would walk among them, the perfect prince, the obedient student, the attentive heir. They would admire my beauty and envy my grace. They would whisper about my smile. They would never see my eyes.
And if they did, if one day someone looked past the platinum hair and the polite bow and saw what lay beneath—well, then the mask would fall, and the Pale King's heir would remind them all why House Sylverne had ruled for centuries. My lips curved. "We are loved because they do not know what we are," I whispered once more. In the darkness, the words were a promise and a curse. I could hear my father's laughter in them, and my own.
Morning light crept across the floor, painting the stones gold. Another bell tolled. I rose and prepared to meet the day, my hunger folded inside me like a secret. The academy would continue. So would I. The game had only just begun.