Alarms did not scream at BloodBorn Academy.
They howled.
A layered wail—arcane and electronic—rolled through the halls, vibrating bone and glass alike. The crimson symbols burned brighter, crawling across the classroom walls like living things, ancient runes twisting and rearranging as if searching for something they could not quite name.
Ashen Rowan gasped as the pressure in his chest intensified.
It felt like invisible hands were squeezing his heart, his lungs—his blood.
"What—what is this?" someone screamed.
Desks rattled. Windows spiderwebbed with cracks before sealing themselves with glowing barriers. Ms. Vale stood frozen at the front of the room, her smile gone, eyes locked on the sigils with naked horror.
"Everyone remain calm," she said, voice strained. Too strained. "This is just a—"
The lie died in her throat.
The runes snapped into alignment.
Every single one pointed toward Ashen.
The moment he realized it, the pressure vanished.
Not faded.
Vanished.
The silence that followed was worse.
Ashen sucked in air, lungs burning, and looked around—confused, shaken, completely unaware that the power had retreated because he let it.
Students stared at him like prey realizing the cage door had never been locked.
"Did… did he do that?" someone whispered.
"No way. He's human."
"…Are you sure?"
Ashen pushed himself upright, palms damp against the desk. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, but his mind was—eerily calm. Focused. As if some switch had flipped and slotted everything neatly into place.
That scared him more than the alarms.
"I didn't touch anything," he said, his voice carrying farther than it should have. "I don't even know what this is."
The boy by the window—no, not a boy—was shaking.
Ashen noticed that now.
The way his scent changed. Sharp. Metallic. Fear.
Why do I notice that?
The classroom door slid open without a sound.
Three figures stood outside.
They wore faculty badges, but the air around them distorted, cloaks of faintly shimmering energy wrapped tight around their bodies. Each carried a black, rune-etched baton humming with restrained force.
Containment Officers.
Every supernatural student knew what that meant.
Ms. Vale stepped back immediately.
"Stand down," one officer ordered, eyes never leaving Ashen. "Ashen Rowan, you are to remain seated and place both hands on the desk."
Ashen frowned.
"Why?"
The officer's grip tightened.
"Because the academy's blood wards just screamed your name."
Ashen's jaw clenched.
"I didn't do anything."
"That," another officer said coldly, "is exactly what worries us."
The symbols on the walls dimmed slightly—but did not disappear.
From the upper floor, the principal watched as live sigil-readings scrolled across the glass.
"Readings are stabilizing," the deputy said, though his voice lacked confidence. "But the wards still classify him as—"
"A living anomaly," the principal finished grimly.
The screens flashed crimson.
FORBIDDEN BLOOD SIGNATURE: PARTIAL MATCH CONFIRMED
"That's not possible," the deputy whispered again.
The principal said nothing.
He was remembering a purge bathed in fire and screams. A child reported dead. A bloodline erased so thoroughly the world itself had forgotten its name.
So why is it answering now?
Back in the classroom, Ashen slowly raised his hands.
Not in surrender.
In compliance.
The officers relaxed by a fraction.
Too much.
Ashen felt it—the subtle shift in the air, the imbalance in their stance, the half-second delay between intent and action.
They're afraid.
The realization slid into place with unsettling ease.
Before he could question it, the lights flickered again.
Once.
Twice.
Every rune in the room shuddered.
"Sir," one officer barked into his comm, "we're getting a secondary surge—"
The surge never came.
Instead, something moved.
Not outward.
Inward.
Ashen's vision blurred. For a heartbeat, the classroom vanished—and he stood somewhere else.
A memory that wasn't his.
A night sky split by fire. Towers falling. Blood soaking into stone that screamed as it drank.
A voice—deep, furious, grieving.
Live.
Ashen staggered, gripping the desk as the vision shattered.
The classroom rushed back.
Every containment officer had taken a step back.
One had dropped his baton.
Ashen blinked, breath unsteady.
"…Did I black out?"
No one answered.
The girl in the back—the one with the dilated pupils—had gone pale. Her eyes glowed faintly silver now, fixed on Ashen with something close to reverence.
"He didn't trigger it," she whispered. "The wards recognized him."
"What does that mean?" someone demanded.
"It means," she said, voice trembling, "the academy wasn't built to stop him."
The silence that followed was absolute.
The principal straightened behind the glass.
"So," he murmured, "the blood remembers its heir."
Down below, Ashen Rowan sat surrounded by fear, suspicion, and power he did not understand—his pulse steady, his mind clear, his instincts whispering truths he wasn't ready to hear.
The containment officers slowly raised their weapons again.
Ashen looked up.
And for the first time, something behind his eyes looked back.
Not ancient.
Not monstrous.
Aware.
The alarms stopped.
Every sigil went dark.
The academy held its breath.
And somewhere deep beneath BloodBorn Academy, a sealed chamber cracked—just enough for something old to smile.
End of chapter 2