Beneath the Sigil

I found my gaze shifting from his back to the darkening campus around us, and for the first time, the quiet seemed unsettling rather than peaceful.

"Just a few more steps," Professor Corvin said, his voice breaking through my spiraling thoughts, but it did little to calm the knot forming in my stomach.

I nodded, trying to hide my growing discomfort. "Of course, Professor." But the words sounded too soft, too uncertain, even to my own ears.

"There is nothing to be nervous about, Elizabeth," Professor Corvin stated, his voice calm, though his words carried a certain sharpness that didn't quite match the reassurance he was offering.

I hesitated, my throat tightening as I forced the words out. "The dark just makes me uneasy, that's all," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "You know, after everything…"

The words hung in the air between us, and I quickly regretted saying them aloud. It wasn't something I liked to talk about, but it felt like the right thing to say, possibly an explanation for the discomfort I couldn't shake.

Professor Corvin nodded slowly, his eyes ahead, his face betraying no hint of emotion. "That is to be expected," he said, his tone matter-of-fact, almost detached.

For a moment, I couldn't tell if he truly understood or if he was just saying what he thought I needed to hear. But the weight of his words did little to ease the gnawing unease in my chest.

The campus around us seemed even darker now, the shadows stretching longer with each passing step.

"Ah, here we are," Professor Corvin said, pulling a set of keys from his pocket with a soft jingle.

He unlocked the door to reveal a surprisingly small apartment-like space, tucked away on the far side of the campus. The exterior of the building, though older and worn, was still solid, the faded brick walls almost blending into the shadowed surroundings as ivy crept up toward the roof. When seen from a distance it looks abandoned, a lost relic of campus history. 

Inside, it was a cozy, spacious home, far from what one would expect for a professor's campus office. The low ceiling gave the space an intimate atmosphere, with the dim, amber light from an overhead lamp casting soft shadows across the walls. The room carried a warmth that contrasted with the chill of the night outside, a space that felt removed from the world beyond the door.

The only other light in the room came from the faint glow of embers left smoldering in the old brick fireplace, their warmth barely reaching out into the room. The fireplace was a focal point, its soot-stained bricks telling of years of steady use. In front of it sat a leather couch, well-worn and creased, its cushions sagging slightly with the marks of countless evenings spent there. Adjacent to the fireplace, beside the couch, sat a simple armchair that stood out with its unmistakable newness, its fabric pristine, its cushions firm and untouched by time.

Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with a haphazard mix of well-loved tomes and academic texts. The spines were a kaleidoscope of colors and textures, some cracked and faded with age, others pristine as if rarely touched. A threadbare rug stretched across the hardwood floor, its intricate patterns dulled from wear but still managing to tie the room together.

A small kitchen area was tucked into one corner, with an old cast-iron kettle resting on a stovetop. The scent of coffee lingered faintly in the air, mingling with the faint smell of smoke and aged leather. The space exuded a quiet charm, a feeling of seclusion and solace that made it easy to forget this was part of a bustling campus.

Despite its warmth, there was an undeniable sense of something... off. Perhaps it was the way the shadows danced in the corners of the room, or the eerie quiet that seemed to stretch a little too far.

"Make yourself at home. Would you like something to drink… coffee, or tea perhaps?" Professor Corvin asked, his voice smooth and polite as he made his way toward the kitchen area.

I hesitated, glancing around the room. The warm glow of the fireplace and the worn leather couch should have been inviting, but the unease curling in my chest wouldn't let me settle. "Tea would be nice," I replied finally, my voice softer than I intended.

"Chamomile? Or something with a bit more spice, Earl Grey, perhaps?" he offered, glancing briefly over his shoulder as he opened a cabinet.

"Chamomile's fine," I said, moving slowly toward the couch. I needed something to calm my nerves.

The worn leather cushions sighed under my weight as I sat. I clasped my hands in my lap, trying to steady the unease that was building with each passing moment.

In the kitchen, Professor Corvin opened a cabinet and pulled out a teapot, moving with a measured grace that felt almost too deliberate. "Chamomile is an excellent choice," he remarked, his tone light yet carrying a certain gravity. "It's known for its calming properties. Just what one needs after a long day."

The faint clink of porcelain filled the room as he prepared the tea. The warm glow of the fireplace should have been comforting, but the shadows that danced in the corners of the room seemed to stretch and twist in ways that made me feel even more on edge, sending a cold shiver down my spine.

"There is no need to be at unease, Lizzy," he said as he walked over to me, a teacup balanced gracefully in his hand. He handed it to me, and the delicate aroma of chamomile drifted up, warm and soothing.

"Do you take it with cream or sugar?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No, this is perfect, thank you."

"Was it that obvious?" I asked after a pause, unable to keep the nervous edge from my voice.

"Indeed," he said, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips. "A flaw you should work on. Any monster could read you like a book, and you'd be none the wiser."

His words sent yet another shiver down my spine, though his tone was light, almost playful. I forced a small smile, wrapping my hands around the teacup as if it could anchor me.

"Thankfully for you, I am no such monster to be feared," he said with a soft chuckle, his tone warm but laced with an edge I couldn't quite place.

I tried to laugh, but it came out weak, more a nervous hum than anything else. My fingers tightened around the teacup as if its warmth could steady me. "Good to know," I said, forcing a small smile.

He took a seat in the armchair across from me, his posture relaxed yet deliberate. "Fear is a peculiar thing, isn't it? It often tells us more about ourselves than about what we fear." His gaze lingered on me, studying me with an intensity that felt almost like a challenge.

I shifted in my seat, breaking eye contact as I sipped the tea. It was smooth, calming, and yet I couldn't shake the tension coiled in my chest. "I suppose that's true," I murmured, more to fill the silence than to engage.

"Elizabeth?"

"Hmm?" I looked up from my tea, the warmth of the cup cradled in my hands.

"When will you complete the rite beneath the sigil?" Professor Corvin asked casually, his words catching me completely off guard.

"Excuse me?" I stammered, nearly choking on my tea. I quickly swallowed, the abrupt shift in conversation leaving me reeling. My hands trembled slightly as I placed the cup carefully on the end table beside me, trying to compose myself.

"You're turning twenty next week, are you not?" he continued, his tone calm and measured, as if discussing the weather. "Correct me if I'm mistaken, but isn't that the age when your hunter gifts fully mature? The traditional time to undertake the rites?" He finished his question with a slow sip of his tea, his gaze steady and unyielding.

"I'm sorry?" I stammered, still trying to compose myself. My mind raced, wondering how Professor Corvin could possibly know about this, and why he was asking me.

"How much have they told you about yourself?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he observed my reaction.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I quickly corrected myself, forcing my voice to sound steady. The last thing I wanted was for him to know anything about me as a hunter. I needed to protect my identity, to make him believe he had gotten it wrong.

"Lizzy," he said, his tone shifting to one of gentle admonishment, as if I were a child. "Have you not sensed anything? Are your gifts that poorly developed, or are you truly this naïve?"

After another sip of his tea, he set the cup down on the end table with a soft clink, his eyes never leaving mine.

I closed my eyes, trying to center myself, to sort through the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts that clouded my mind. Then, deep within the chaos, I felt it, a sharp, unsettling ping of danger that hit my gut. It was as if an invisible warning bell had rung inside me, urging me to leave, to flee. The realization hit me like a cold icy slap: the man sitting before me wasn't human.

I gasped, my eyes snapping open. How could I have been so stupid? I had completely let my guard down. I had forgotten my training. I had forgotten that I was never truly safe, no matter where I was.

"What are you?" I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it. Shock rippled through me, my voice trembling as the words barely registered. It was as if my brain was finally catching up to everything I'd been ignoring.

He tilted his head slightly, a mocking glint in his eyes. "That tis a question, isn't it, Lizzy?" His smirk stretched wider, the corners of his mouth curling up in that infuriatingly smug way. "However, let's not spoil our moment together just yet."

I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to hold onto my composure, but the questions kept swirling in my mind, the suspicion gnawing at me. I could feel my heart racing, though I couldn't tell if it was fear or something else.

I exhaled sharply, the moment dragging on as his smug expression remained unchanged. Of course he wouldn't answer. I had to play his game to get the answers.

"Fine," I said, my voice sharp despite the unease settling in my stomach. "I'll play your game." 

"A game?" He gave me a look of intrigue. "Alright then, I can tell you and I are on the same page now." His grin twisted into something dark, almost predatory. "Now, be a good girl and answer my question, truthfully."

"I... I'm not going to take the rite," I admitted, my voice shaky. "I can't, not now that my parents are dead."

"Ah, yes," he said, his tone laced with amusement, "I had forgotten that detail. Their death means that you will be wed to strengthen the bloodline."

"Yup," I said, my voice carrying more emotion than I intended.

"And that upsets you?" he asked, his tone curious.

"Of course it does," I snapped, the anger surging within me, my control slipping. "They're going to force me to have children, all to preserve the power of their society." I sighed. "Even if just one original family disappears everything falls apart. The societies power is built on the contract of the five founding families, if one of them is gone, their entire hold collapses."

I took a deep breath to steady myself, as an attempt to regain my composure. "And since I'm the only one who can continue the line, since my aunt can't have children, I'll be forced to marry someone I don't love and have as many children as I can."

Tears began to flow down my face, each drop carrying the weight of all the emotions I had been holding back.

"Are you happy now? Have you had your fun?" I spat out, the words filled with bitterness.

"And this is why you're researching vampires then?" he asked, his voice laced with an almost amused curiosity.

"No," I said firmly, shaking my head. "The reason was to find a way of escape." I gazed into his eyes, "Permanently." The weight of my words sinking in as I admitted it for the first time." I hate the society, always have." I tilted my wrist up exposing the mark left there by the society. "They burned this into my flesh the day I was born," The mark was the sigil of the society the promise to kill every supernatural I encountered. "They marked me for the rest of my life, making me a dog in their game of genocide, I want no part of it."

Professor Corvin leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Ah, so the rebellious child finally speaks her mind," he mused. "But tell me, Elizabeth, what do you plan to do about it?" His eyes gleamed with curiosity.

"Run," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He chuckled, a low, rich sound that sent yet another shiver down my spine. "A reasonable plan," he conceded, "if only they couldn't track you so easily."

"I know," I muttered, my shoulders slumping. "But what choice do I have?"

"How about the plan you so carelessly revealed to me after class?" he asked, a glint of anticipation sparking in his eyes.

"What... finding a vampire..." I scoffed, bitterness twisting my lips into a grimace. "That would just get me killed." I laughed nervously, the sound hollow even to my ears. "And honestly, I'm not sure I'd want that life anyway," I added, as I recalled the unsettling things I'd read earlier today. 

"Aw, giving up so easily then?" he asked playfully, though a slight frown tugged at his lips.

"It just seems like a life of anguish, not freedom," I stated, my tone firm despite the flicker of doubt in my chest.

His smile returned, slow and dangerous, curling at the edges like smoke. "You'd be surprised," he said, the words dripping with implication.

"Did you read that journal?" I asked.

"Indeed I did," he replied, his tone casual as if we were discussing the weather. "A journal written by a mere spawn. Nothing more."

"And how do you know that?" I pressed, narrowing my eyes.

He leaned back slightly, his smirk sharpening into something darker, more sinister. "He was mine," Professor Corvin stated, his words edged with a sadistic satisfaction that sent a chill racing down my spine. 

I froze, suddenly aware of the quiet hum in the air, the tension that had always been there but I'd never quite noticed. It was like a fog lifting, and suddenly, everything made sense. The subtle menace in his smile, the way it never quite reached his eyes. There had always been something off about it, but I'd convinced myself it was just his charm, his charisma. The grace in his movements, how he moved like a predator stalking through the night, never stumbling, never rushing. I'd always thought it was just his unnerving elegance, his weird perfection.

And then there was his gaze. That intensity, like he was staring straight through me, as if he knew things about me no one else did. How had I never questioned it before? How had I never thought to ask why he seemed to know so much, why he always said the right thing at the right time, like he could read my mind?

My breath hitched, and my heart hammered in my chest. "You're…" I trailed off, the words catching in my throat.

"Go on," he encouraged, his tone light, almost playful.

"You're one of them," I finally managed, my voice barely above a whisper.

His grin widened, and this time, there was no mistaking the flash of sharp, elongated canines. "Very good, Lizzy," he purred. "It seems your instincts aren't entirely useless after all."

The teacup slipped from my trembling hands, tumbling toward the floor. It would have shattered, scattering porcelain across the room, if not for his impossibly quick reflexes. He caught it in mid-air, his hand steady as stone. The speed of his movement was no longer something I could rationalize away, it was undeniable proof of what I had been too blind, too naïve, to see before. How could I have been so stupid?

"And now," he said, his voice low and smooth, laced with a predator's grace, "we can have an honest conversation."

"Did you just bring me here to toy with me before killing me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. My hands trembled, betraying the fear that coiled tighter in my chest with every passing second.

"No, I have never had any intention of killing you," he said, his tone calm, almost reassuring, as he turned and walked back to his chair with measured elegance. "But my curiosity about you has come at a price for me, one I am not particularly willing to pay." He settled into his chair, fingers steepled as he studied me intently. "So, I've spent the day contemplating a way to make us both happy."

The deliberate way he spoke sent a shiver down my spine, his words carrying a weight that hinted at plans I couldn't yet fathom.

"My dearest Elizabeth," he began, his voice soft but laced with a chilling undertone, "I was supposed to end your life the night your parents died, but that would have ended my game." He leaned back in his chair, eyes gleaming with something dark, almost amused. "My father has discovered my disregard for his plans, and so if I do not end your life, he will end mine."

His words hung in the air, thick with an unsettling weight. The dangerous implications of what he was saying sank into me, like a heavy stone. It was no longer just a game for him; it was a matter of survival.

"I thought you weren't going to kill me?" I asked, confusion and fear mixing in my voice.

"Not for good," he replied with a devious smile, his eyes dark with amusement. "During our conversation in class, you gave me the exact idea to save your life."

"What?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper as the weight of his words began to sink in.

"Oh my dear, I'm going to turn you," he said with joyous amusement, his grin widening. "And I am so looking forward to it."

The world seemed to stop, my breath catching in my throat. Was he just toying with me? "You're serious?" I asked, my voice shaky as I stood up, the need to run filling me with every passing second.

He watched me with a tilt of his head, a flicker of something dark in his eyes. "You're not going to try and run, are you?" His voice was smooth, almost mocking, yet there was an undercurrent of something deeper, something that made me think he wanted me to.

I froze, caught in the tension of his gaze. It was as if he were testing me, waiting to see if I'd make a move. My heart pounded, the weight of his words sinking in, and for a moment, I considered it, but I sat back down determined not to let him win so easily. 

"You are such a prize." His voice was low, almost a purr, the words were of something dark and possessive. The hunger in his eyes made my heart ache with fear. I was the prey and he was the predator, savoring the moment before the kill.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my composure, but my body betrayed me as another chill ran down my spine. There was no escaping the truth now. He was not just toying with me, he was savoring every second of this, enjoying the fear that rippled through me. 

The moment was so intense that I almost forgot to breathe, the weight of his gaze pressing down on me like a physical force. My lungs screamed for air, and I inhaled deeply, feeling dizzy from the lack of oxygen, my mind spinning as my heart pounded in my chest.

Just as I thought I might collapse from the overwhelming fear, my phone rang, its shrill sound slicing through the thick tension in the room. The sudden intrusion jolted me, pulling me momentarily out of the suffocating grip of fear. My hand trembled as I reached for the phone, the sensation of relief almost startling after the heavy silence that had swallowed us both.

For a fleeting second, I felt the illusion of control return, but I knew better than to think that would last long.

As the phone rang, my hands shook with anticipation. Was I really going to risk answering it? Professor Corvin's voice, smooth and mocking, cut through my panic. "Go ahead, answer it," he said, gesturing lazily toward the device.

I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the screen. When I saw the name, my aunt's, my breath hitched. I almost answered, but I knew it would be a mistake. If I answered, she'd sense my fear immediately and come rushing to my side. The thought of her being pulled into this nightmare made my stomach churn.

"I can't," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "She'll know I'm in danger."

Professor Corvin's laugh was low and unsettling, a sound that made my skin crawl. "You're afraid, yet you do not want to stop this little dance of ours." He chuckled. "Admit it, Lizzy," he said, "You want me to bite you. Your afraid if you answer that phone she will stop me from free you."

His words hung in the air, and my heart skipped a beat. I couldn't tell if the desire pulsing through me was from accepting the truth of what he said or the thought of his death. What was I kidding myself I know the truth, and the truth felt like a tight knot in my chest, but I couldn't voice it. My breath quickened, my throat dry as I struggled to maintain control.

"You're wrong," I forced out, my voice trembling. But even to my own ears, it didn't sound convincing.

"Answer the phone then." He said with a commanding tone. "Prove me wrong and end our delicious game." 

My fingers trembled as I pressed the green icon, the call connecting with a soft beep.

"Lizzy, where are you?" My aunt's voice crackled through the speaker, filled with concern. "You were supposed to be home an hour ago to start your training."

I smiled at Professor Corvin, ready to end our game. However, just as I was about to ask for help, something inside me snapped. And a powerful impulse urged me to lie. "I'm studying," I said, forcing my voice to sound convincing. "I need to catch up on my classes."

But even to my ears, the excuse sounded weak, unconvincing. My voice wavered, betraying the fear I was desperately trying to conceal.

I could feel Professor Corvin's gaze on me, his presence looming behind me like a shadow. His grin never faltered, and his eyes glinted with amusement, as if he were savoring every moment of my discomfort.

"I'll head home in an hour, and then I promise to train for an extra hour tonight," I pleaded, trying to keep my voice steady.

The silence on the other end of the line stretched uncomfortably, making my anxiety grow with each passing second. Finally, my aunt spoke, her voice tight with concern. "Alright, but I'm checking the tracker if you don't return."

"Why would I run?" I asked, my voice low, tinged with frustration. "You've already made it clear that it would be pointless."

With a final, shaky breath, I ended the call, tapping the red phone icon and then turning off my phone. The weight of my decision settled over me like a heavy cloak. The sharp click of the phone disconnecting echoed in the room, and I couldn't suppress the shiver that ran down my spine. I kept my eyes fixed on Professor Corvin, refusing to show any weakness, though my heart was racing.

He clapped his hands, which made me jump, "Bravo, Lizzy. You've done well to buy yourself a little time." his voice warm and full of mock admiration. 

I didn't say anything, the words caught in my throat. I wanted to shout, to tell him off, but something about the way he looked at me made it hard to form any coherent thought. His gaze was as predatory as ever, but now there was something deeper, more calculating in his expression. 

"You're having fun with this aren't you?" I asked. 

His smirk only deepened. "Oh, darling, you have no idea. Your fear, your reluctance, it's all part of the game. But now you've sealed your fate. You can't escape from it, no matter how hard you try."

I stood still, trying to control the rapid beat of my heart. I couldn't let him know how close to breaking I really was. "I'm not afraid of you," I lied, my voice still shaking.

Professor Corvin's grin turned sharp, his eyes gleaming with hunger. "Oh, you should be, Lizzy. You should be."

The room felt suffocating, its walls inching closer with each passing second. My instincts screamed at me to run, but deep down, I knew it was futile. No matter how fast I moved, no matter where I tried to escape, his presence would always be there, an invisible shadow that would track my every step.

But then, a glimmer of hope flickered in my mind. I had something, an edge. With a steady hand, I unzipped my bag, not once breaking eye contact with Professor Corvin. My fingers brushed over the familiar cold metal of the silver throwing star, and I gripped it tightly, the sharp edges pressing into my palm.

I could feel the weight of it in my hand, the power of the weapon, the ability to strike first and end this. The thought of ending his life should have been comforting, but another thought quickly followed, a doubt that made my chest tighten.

Did I really want to end his life? Was that what I truly wanted, or was it simply the instinctual habit of the blood that flowed within me? The very blood that tied me to a legacy I had never asked for. Who was I, really? The hunter, trained, forged by my lineage to kill? Or was I just a girl, lost and desperate, wanting nothing more than to escape the crushing expectations of a society that had already claimed too much of my soul?

The decision was more than just life or death. It was the crossroads of my identity, the place where every choice I had made, every belief I had clung to, suddenly seemed fragile, uncertain. I stood frozen in that moment, the weight of the blade in my hand barely registering as my mind reeled.

The tension in the room thickened, wrapping around me like a suffocating veil. And yet, despite everything, the fear, the anger, the confusion. I couldn't bring myself to strike. 

"What's wrong, little huntress?" His voice oozed with mockery, each syllable dripping with malice as he taunted me. "Can't decide if you want to throw that star at me?" He rose from his seat with languid grace, the movement predator-like, slow and deliberate. Every step he took toward me felt like the tightening of a noose, and I could feel the space between us closing, the air growing thick with tension.

The weight of the throwing star in my hand felt heavier now, the cold metal biting into my palm as my grip tightened. He was so close, closer than I could stand, and yet his presence seemed to draw me in like a force I couldn't fight.

"Let me make this decision easier for you," he murmured, his voice low, almost coaxing. He spread his arms wide, as if daring me to make the first move. His smirk was dark, triumphant, as though he already knew what I would choose. "Use it on me, Lizzy. Be firm in your choices tonight. I'm giving you the chance."

His eyes never left mine, challenging me to act, to make the move he had been waiting for. The silence between us was deafening, the decision hung in the air, a tension that cut deeper than the blade in my hand. And still, I stood there, torn, trapped between my instincts, my fears, and the bloodline that had always guided my hand.

Would I be the hunter he expected, or would I choose something else entirely? 

"I can't," I said, my voice trembling as I let the star drop from my hand. It fell to the floor with a dull thud, echoing louder than it should have.

"Say it," he commanded, his tone firm and unyielding.

"You win," I admitted, the words heavy with defeat. My shoulders sagged as the fight drained out of me. "I don't want to be a hunter. Save me… please." I pleaded, my voice breaking, desperation spilling out with every word.

Professor Corvin crouched to my level, his movements unnervingly fluid, and locked eyes with me. His expression was... strange. I couldn't quite place it. Was it joy? There was something unsettling in the way his lips curled into the faintest hint of a smile, his gaze gleaming with an emotion that made my skin crawl.

"I will."

When he finally spoke, relief washed over me, melting away the fear, anguish, and anger that had taken root deep within me. It was almost overwhelming, this unfamiliar lightness spreading through my chest. For the first time in what felt like forever, I was feeling something I thought I'd lost.

Hope.

Then, just as hope began to take hold, Corvin sprang to his feet with sudden urgency. His head snapped toward the door, his posture tense and alert. In that moment, he reminded me of a deer hearing a twig snap in the woods—poised, wary, and ready to flee or strike. 

"What is it?" I asked, rising to my feet, my pulse quickening.

"Hunters." He nearly growled the words, his voice low and filled with unmistakable tension. 

When Professor Corvin turned toward me he smiled an unwavering smile. "You have to go." He said softly. His words cut me like a knife.

"But—"

Before I could finish, he grabbed my hand, his grip firm yet graceful. He dipped low, pressing a kiss to my hand. The moment his lips touched my skin, a strange tingle ran through me, lingering long after he pulled away.

"I will give you what you wish for, Lizzy. Unfortunately, tonight our time has been cut short."

I shook my head, frustration bubbling up inside me. "I can show them I'm fine, tell them I'm just studying and to leave me alone."

He looked at me with a sorrowful expression. "They've already sensed my presence. They won't leave you alone, little huntress." His voice was soft but firm. "Now go."

I grabbed my things and headed toward the door, no longer able to argue with him. "I was feeling hope," I said, turning back to glance at him. A wave of fear gripped me, I was afraid that when I walked out this door, I would never see him again. "Promise you won't disappear."

He gave me a wry smile, his voice dripping with humor. "That would require me to stop existing. Now Go!"