บททั้งหมดของ Ashwyck Academy for the Damned: บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

Rhett:The second she steps into the hall, my entire world contracts. I catch her scent first—sweet and sharp, honeyed and feral—and then the heat behind it, the living, breathing thrum of her. She’s moving toward her next class, purposeful, but I can see the weight in her step, the tight coil of exhaustion. She shouldn’t be carrying this much. Not alone.I move instinctively, the wolf inside me flaring, claws of instinct scraping the edge of my control. I don’t even think about it; I just surge toward the others.Silas is already there, all shadow and patience, his fingers brushing through the dark air like he’s knitting the edges of the world to keep it from tearing. Kai’s eyes are sharp, darting, calculating—he’s already piecing together the puzzle we don’t yet understand. And Lucian… Lucian leans against the stone wall, grin curled just enough to be dangerous, heat coiled beneath that deceptively calm exterior. They all feel it too. The tension is crawling along our nerves like co

Isadora:The dress feels like midnight made flesh as I slip in on. Black lace clings to every inch of me, a whisper of shadow against bare skin. I fasten the crimson-ruby earrings Loralie pressed into my palm earlier, their cold weight a pulse at my throat. The matching necklace settles like a promise—or a threat—above my heartbeat. When I tie the mask, its filigree edges bite lightly into my temples, framing the world in obsidian.Loralie bursts into my room in a shimmer of rose-gold sequins, eyes already glittering with the night’s intoxication. “Mistress of Moonlight,” she declares, looping her arm through mine. “Ready?”“As I’ll ever be,” I breathe, though the air tastes like a storm already brewing.The corridor outside thrums with distant music and the murmur of gathering bodies. We follow the sound through a maze of candlelit arches until the Grand Hall yawns open before us—a cathedral of shadow and flame. Lanterns sway from iron chains, bleeding red light across marble floors

Rhett:I wake right as the sun breaks when I hear a knock at Isadora's door. It is a slow, deliberate tap, not the kind meant for polite company.I’m on my feet before Isadora even stirs. Instinct. My body moves the way a wolf does when it hears the first twig break in a dark wood—quiet, ready.I ease around her bed, every sense sharpened. The faint scent of singed air still lingers from her nightmare, a heat that shouldn’t belong in this cold stone room. My hand finds the door latch, fingers flexing.Another knock, sharper.I pull it open.Viktor stands there, pale as a winter moon and twice as smug. Black hair glints midnight blue under the corridor torches. Those crimson eyes slide over my shoulder toward the bed like he’s cataloguing every shadow she casts.“What the hell do you want?” My voice comes out low, rough. Not a question so much as a warning.He leans against the jamb, long and elegant, like the doorframe is a throne he deserves. “Relax, wolf. I didn’t get to finish my d

Silas:The alcove breathes a comforting cold against my skin, the stones older than language itself.I lean into the darkness, letting it swallow me whole. The shadows speak in a cadence I know too well—low and restless, like a tide against a broken shore. They smell of iron and frost, of endings.A door clicks open down the stairwell.Soft footfalls. Careful. Hesitant.Isadora.Her presence slides across the black like the first cut of dawn. The shadows recoil and reach all at once.She turns the corner, candlelight pooling around her like liquid warmth. For a heartbeat she doesn’t see me. Then her eyes catch mine and she startles—a sharp intake of breath, hand to her chest.“I didn’t know anyone was here,” she says. Her voice wavers but doesn’t break.I step forward, hands raised slightly. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”“You didn’t.” A pause, a small tremor in the word. “Much.”The faint shimmer of glamour clings to her skin; Kai’s lesson still lingers. Her hair is a tumble of bla

Isadora:Two days of near-normalcy feel like a miracle.I wake, attend every class, and—despite the ever-present whispers of the wards—the boys keep their silent promise. Each night one or all of them slips into the room, shadow and warmth woven together. Sometimes Silas claims the windowsill, shadows curling at his boots. Sometimes Rhett stands guard by the door, a dark sentinel. Kai always finds a way to make me laugh before sleep claims me. Even Lucian, though he pretends indifference, lingers in the hallway until dawn bruises the horizon.It’s…refreshing. Almost normal.Almost.By the night of the Festival masquerade, the castle hums with anticipation. Music thrums faintly through stone corridors, a heartbeat in the bones of Ashwyck.A knock breaks the quiet. When I open the door, a delivery waits: a sleek black box, tied with crimson velvet ribbon. On top lies a folded card in Kai’s familiar, elegant hand.For the most gorgeous woman, the note reads, we will outshine all the star