Chapter Seven: Echoes in the Halls

The halls of Duskmoor Academy felt colder the next morning. Not the kind of cold you could fix with a sweater—but the kind that lived in your bones, like something had shifted, and the building itself knew it.

Seraphina pulled her coat tighter as she made her way toward the east wing. Her wrist still pulsed faintly with that familiar golden glow, hidden beneath her sleeve. No one else could see it, but she could feel its presence—like a heartbeat that wasn’t hers. A tether to something ancient… and someone.

She hadn’t seen Lucan since the courtyard.

He’d told her she was strong. That she was ready. But the way he’d looked at her after the Sleepless One disappeared—like she was something terrifying and holy all at once—left a hollow in her chest.

Did he still trust her?

Or did he fear what she was becoming?

She turned the corner near the Literature wing and froze.

There were whispers—too many of them. Students clustered outside one of the classrooms, faces pale, voices hushed.

“Did you see the symbol?”

“They say it glowed.”

“She collapsed in the middle of her dream-training.”

“Her eyes were gold.”

Gold.

Seraphina’s stomach dropped.

She pushed forward until she caught sight of a name written on the classroom door in chalk: Anya Keene.

A girl from the upper dorm. Always quiet. Always kind.

Seraphina’s hands trembled.

Another marked student.

And now they were whispering about her the same way they had whispered about Seraphina just days ago.

She backed away, panic blooming behind her ribs. Her mind spun—what if the Sleepless One had targeted Anya? What if it was her fault? What if her awakening was drawing others into danger?

She needed to find Lucan.

Now.

—

She slipped through the side entrance to the lower levels of the Academy—where the restricted staff offices were. She had no idea if Lucan would be there, but he had told her once: “When I need silence, I go below.”

It was quiet. Too quiet.

The stone stairwell echoed beneath her boots. Candles lined the hallways, but their flames flickered strangely—as if reacting to her presence.

She rounded the final corner… and stopped.

Lucan stood in the hallway, facing two robed instructors and Headmistress Elira herself. They weren’t speaking—but the tension was loud enough to choke on.

“You brought this on yourself, Mr. Vale,” Elira said, voice low but firm. “She was stable before you entered her dreams.”

“She was cursed before she ever stepped foot in this school,” Lucan shot back, eyes cold. “All I did was help her survive it.”

Elira didn’t flinch. “You are not authorized to perform dream-bond rituals. You manipulated a student’s emotions and endangered every other soul within the Veil.”

“I protected her when no one else did.”

“She burned through two levels of the dream field. Do you even understand what that means?”

Seraphina felt the words slam into her like a door.

Lucan had never told her.

Elira stepped closer to him. “Your presence here is officially under review. The council will decide by sundown whether you stay.”

Lucan’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond.

And that silence scared Seraphina more than anything.

She stepped forward.

“He didn’t manipulate me,” she said.

The heads turned—all three adults froze.

Seraphina stood taller, forcing the tremble from her voice. “He didn’t do anything I didn’t choose. I went into that dream with him. I gave him my trust.”

Elira studied her. “You’ve bonded to him.”

“It was already there,” Seraphina said. “You were just too afraid to look.”

Lucan’s expression flickered—half relief, half heartbreak.

Elira frowned. “The more your bond deepens, the more it will awaken the curse. You might think you’re in control now. But you haven’t seen what happens when dreamlight becomes wildfire.”

“I’d rather burn than stay asleep,” Seraphina said softly.

A long silence followed.

Then Elira turned away. “He stays. For now.”

The instructors followed her down the hall. The soft swish of their robes vanished into the shadows.

Lucan didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

So Seraphina did.

“I heard about the girl. Anya.”

Lucan nodded. “The Sleepless One is moving faster now. We suspected it would. Now that your bond is active, it senses your awakening as a threat.”

“She collapsed in dream-training,” Seraphina said quietly. “Is she…?”

“She’s stable. But she won’t remember anything.” He turned his face away. “That’s how it starts.”

Seraphina stepped closer. “What do we do?”

“We run,” he said simply. “Tonight.”

Her heart slammed against her chest. “Run?”

“There’s a place deeper in the ruins,” Lucan said. “Older than the academy. I need to show you what the bond really is. The full truth.”

Her voice trembled. “And after that?”

He looked at her.

“Then you decide if this bond is still something you want.”

—

That night, they slipped through a hidden door behind the statue of the Moon Watcher, just past the fifth stairwell of the west wing. Seraphina followed closely behind Lucan, each step leading them away from the known, the safe, and the expected.

The path sloped downward. The walls narrowed. They reached an ancient gate—its iron bars etched with spiraling runes.

Lucan pressed his hand against a central rune.

The gate opened with a soft groan.

Inside was not darkness.

It was dreamlight.

Soft gold glowed from every carved surface. Candles floated midair. A stone platform rested in the center, shaped like a crescent moon.

Lucan walked toward it, slow and reverent. “This is where it started.”

Seraphina stared. “What is this place?”

“The true heart of the curse,” Lucan said. “This temple existed before the academy. Before the Sleepless One. It was made for bonded souls.”

He turned to her.

“Your soul first chose mine here. When we were different people. Different names. But the bond… it never changed.”

Seraphina walked forward, fingers brushing the old stone.

She felt it.

A pulse.

A warmth.

A knowing.

“Why bring me here?” she whispered.

“Because,” he said, stepping closer, “if we seal this bond completely, the curse won’t kill just you anymore. It’ll come for both of us.”

“And if we don’t?” she asked.

“You’ll keep dying. I’ll keep forgetting how to stop it. And we’ll lose each other again.”

Seraphina looked at him—really looked at him.

Not as a cursed incubus.

Not as a dream guide.

But as someone who had waited for her. Across lifetimes. Through agony and memory and silence.

“I’m not ready,” she whispered.

Lucan nodded.

“I know.”

But as her fingers wrapped around his… her rune glowed again.

Not gold this time.

But white.

Brilliant and blinding.

And neither of them said a word.

Because something had begun.

And neither of them knew how it would end.