Eli didn't sleep again.
Not really. He lay in his dorm bed, the sheets tangled at his feet, eyes wide as the mark beneath his collarbone pulsed like a second heartbeat. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt them — Khyro's cold gaze, Zyren's burning grin. Two monsters circling him in the dark.
By morning, the ache had settled into his bones. He pulls on his jacket, tugging the collar up to hide the mark, and slips out before Jace or Celeste can knock on his door. He can't face their questions yet — not when he has none of the answers.
The campus grounds look normal in daylight — stone buildings, tangled vines, students drifting from class to class like nothing could touch them. But Eli feels the shadows clinging to the edges of every brick wall.
He almost jumps when Liam appears beside him, falling into step like a ghost.
"You look like hell," Liam says, voice low but not unkind. "Didn't sleep?"
Eli shrugs. "I'm fine."
"You're not. And you know Celeste will kill you if you lie again."
Eli forces a weak laugh. He tries to pretend Liam's easy grin makes him feel safe — but all it does is remind him how fragile this normalcy is.
They duck into an empty lecture hall, where the rest of the Fourfold waits — Celeste perched on a desk, Jace sprawled out like a prince who owns the place.
"You're late," Jace drawls, flicking imaginary dust from his sleeve. "Trying to make us worry?"
Eli opens his mouth, ready to snap back with something stupid, but Celeste hops down and closes the distance between them.
"You're burning up," she murmurs, pressing her palm to his chest — right over the mark. Her eyes widen. "Eli… what did you do?"
Outside the lecture hall, unseen by any of them, a figure watches from the shadows. Khyro stands under the archway, cold eyes locked on the shape of Eli through the frosted glass door. Further back, half hidden in the gloom, Zyren leans against the wall, sharp grin glowing like embers in the dark.
Between fangs and flames, Eli's mark burns brighter.
Eli sits on the edge of the desk while the others circle him like restless guardians. Jace is pacing, Celeste is fussing with his collar, trying to see the mark he keeps hiding. Liam stands by the door, arms crossed, watching every shadow that creeps too close.
"I told you, it's nothing," Eli mutters, flinching when Celeste's fingertips brush the sensitive skin above the mark.
"It's not nothing if you're burning up like a fever dream," Jace snaps. "We need to know what we're dealing with. What did you see that night? Who touched you?"
The words hang heavy. Who touched you. Eli swallows.
Khyro's icy grip. Zyren's heat pressed too close. The way they both spoke like he was something precious and breakable — something to claim.
"I don't know," he lies. "I was just in the wrong place."
Celeste shakes her head. Her usual clumsy sweetness is gone — what's left is sharp and protective. "Eli, if someone cursed you—"
"It's not a curse," Eli blurts out, louder than he means to. He feels the pulse under his collarbone flare in warning, like it's listening.
Jace stops pacing. His voice is quieter now, too calm. "Then what is it, Serrano? Because I swear, if you drag us into some secret mess and get yourself killed—"
"We're already in it," Liam cuts in. He pulls something from his jacket — a folded piece of paper, smudged with charcoal. He tosses it onto the desk. "I found more runes. Behind the old chapel this time. Same pattern as before."
Eli stares at the page. The marks twist like veins in his mind, echoing the shape burned into his skin. He doesn't realize his fingers are shaking until Celeste covers them with hers.
"We'll handle it," she says, voice steady as stone. "The Fourfold's pact, remember? You don't carry this alone."
Outside, the shadows shift.
Khyro's breath curls in the cold air as he turns away from the door.
"Foolish boy," he murmurs.
Zyren laughs beside him — soft and cruel. "Let him struggle a bit. It makes it sweeter when he gives in."
The wind carries the faintest echo of Eli's heartbeat — a promise, a warning, a lure.
Between fangs and flames, the veil grows thinner
Eli grips the edge of the desk so hard his knuckles go white. He wants to tell them everything — the fangs, the claws, the cold eyes and burning grin — but the words tangle like barbed wire in his throat.
Celeste doesn't push. She just sits close enough that their shoulders touch, her warmth a small anchor. Jace, though, is another story. He leans forward, bracing his hands on either side of Eli, his sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose just enough to show eyes sharp with worry.
"Listen to me," Jace says, his voice low enough that only Eli can hear. "I don't care if it's vampires, demons, cult freaks — if they touch you again, I'll bury them myself. Got it?"
Eli almost laughs. Jace and his swagger — his stupid, infuriating loyalty. He wants to believe him, but what good are fists and threats against monsters who don't fear death?
Liam clears his throat. He's staring at the crumpled paper with the runes. "These marks… I've been looking into them. They're not just warnings — they're gateways. Old ones. Something about bridging boundaries."
Eli's breath catches. Bridging boundaries. Like a veil. Like a lock picked open.
"You think someone's trying to summon something?" Celeste asks.
"Or someone," Liam says darkly.
Jace scoffs. "Great. So we've got cultists carving runes in the walls and Serrano here glowing like a cursed lantern. Perfect semester."
Eli's phone buzzes in his pocket. He flinches — no one ever texts him except the Fourfold. But this time, the screen shows an unknown number.
He doesn't want to answer. He does it anyway.
Unknown: Meet me. Rooftop. Now.
There's no name. No threat. But Eli knows exactly who it is — or worse, which one.
He shoves his phone back in his pocket before the others can see the message. "I need to clear my head," he says, voice flat. He pushes off the desk, ignoring Celeste's protest, ignoring Jace's curses.
Minutes later, Eli is climbing the rusted metal stairs behind the old lecture building. The wind is sharper here, scraping through his hair, biting his cheeks. His breath curls in front of him like smoke.
He steps onto the rooftop. The city stretches below, sleepy and gold in the afternoon sun. And standing near the edge, coat billowing like a shadow torn from the night, is Khyro.
For a heartbeat, Eli wonders if he should run. But something deeper — darker — won't let him. It pulls him closer, step by step, until the vampire turns.
Khyro's eyes are winter. His voice cuts through the wind like a blade. "You've been careless."
Eli's laugh is small, bitter. "Careless? You cornered me. You marked me."
Khyro's eyes flick to Eli's collarbone, where the rune still pulses beneath the fabric. "You should be grateful. Without it, you'd be dead already."
Eli's breath hitches. He wants to argue, but Khyro closes the distance in a blink — no sound, no warning. Cold fingers brush the side of Eli's neck, tilting his chin up like he's porcelain.
"You're trembling," Khyro murmurs. "Do you fear me now?"
Eli hates how his pulse betrays him — how part of him wants to lean into that touch just to feel real. "I hate you."
Khyro's mouth curves — not quite a smile, not quite a threat. "Good."
From the shadowed stairwell, another shape watches. Zyren lounges against the railing, a grin playing at his lips, eyes glowing faintly in the dusk.
"Such a pretty thing to fight over," Zyren purrs to himself. His fingers trace the edge of the door. "Let's see how long you last, little mortal…"
And above them all, the sky bruises into twilight — the mark burns hotter, the veil thinner, the promise darker.
Eli doesn't know what terrifies him more — Khyro's touch or Zyren's grin flickering at the edge of the rooftop door. The wind tugs at his hair, but his skin burns under the vampire's fingers, cold and demanding.
Khyro studies him, eyes like frozen rivers. "You shouldn't be here alone."
"I didn't exactly get an invite," Eli snaps, though his voice is thin. "You don't own me."
Khyro tilts his head, and for a moment the cold mask slips — just enough for something older, sadder to peer through. "No. But they will try to. The mark makes you theirs — unless I keep you hidden."
"Hidden?" Eli's laugh cracks like glass. "From what? The whole damn world?"
"From him," Khyro murmurs.
A gust of wind and a flicker of heat — Zyren steps fully into the light, boots scraping against rusted metal. He claps slowly, mock applause echoing in the dusk.
"Aw, how sweet. The frozen prince pretending to care," Zyren drawls. He moves closer, his grin sharp as a knife. "But Eli isn't yours to lock away, Khyro. Not anymore."
Eli tries to back up, but Khyro's hand stays firm at his throat — not choking, just there, a reminder.
Zyren's eyes flick to Eli, softer now, almost hungry. "Tell him, sweetheart. Tell him who you dream of when you close your eyes. Who you burn for."
Eli's throat works around words he doesn't dare say. He wants to deny them both — to say he's not theirs, not anyone's — but the mark under his skin throbs like a heartbeat answering to more than just his own.
Below the rooftop, Fourfold is already looking for him.
Celeste stands in the courtyard, arms folded tight across her chest, eyes scanning every window. Jace paces like a caged beast, muttering curses that Liam barely tries to calm.
"He went up there," Celeste says. Her voice doesn't waver. "I felt it."
Jace huffs. "We drag him back if we have to."
Liam nods. "And if those monsters touch him again—"
"They won't," Celeste cuts in, her eyes glinting sharp. "They'll have to get through us first."
Back above, Eli sucks in a shaky breath, caught between frost and flame. Khyro's cold hand, Zyren's burning stare — the rooftop a cage with no doors.
"You should choose," Khyro murmurs, voice softer than the wind. "Before someone does it for you."
Zyren laughs — low and wicked. "Let him squirm. Where's the thrill if he doesn't beg first?"
Eli closes his eyes. For a second, he imagines no monsters, no marks — just the ordinary night sky. But when he opens them, he's still here, heart hammering between fangs and flames.
And the veil between them all grows thinner still.