Cassian's P.O.V.
Name: Cassian Rock
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Complexion: white
Height: 6"1 (185 cm)
Major: Philosophy and Psychology .
Bio: He's a new transfer student at Velmora University. Very friendly and bubbly. Has a sick mother and a very hardworking and Loving father. Middle class but very well-to-do. Extroverted. Has great memory and is a little above average in academics. Gets scared extremely easily because he has a serious anxiety disorder and can get into shock if scared to the bones. People tend to tag him as weird. Very kind and considerate but also knows how to stand up for himself very well.
*****
It was my first day at Velmora University—the most prestigious college in the entire city, a place steeped in history and legend. To many, it was just a university. To me, it was the culmination of years of dreaming. A sanctuary of ambition, intellect, and whispered mystery. I hadn't started classes yet; they'd given me a day to settle into my dorm. My belongings were already in the room, albeit in a state of organized chaos, waiting to be arranged.
The cold air clung to the stone corridors of the dormitory, trailing over my skin like a ghost's whisper. My room—Room 57—was located on the second floor. I gripped the key tightly, the cool metal grounding me as I walked with purpose.
The architecture of the building felt like something plucked out of another century—dark wood panels, brass lanterns, and walls that hummed with quiet secrets. Velmora didn't just wear its age—it brandished it like a crown.
I reached the door and twisted the key. A quiet click echoed as I stepped inside.
They told me I had a roommate, though I hadn't seen him during my initial visit. Classes were still in session, so naturally, he was probably still out. Lucky for me, the room—meant to house four—only had two occupants. An extra locker all to myself felt like a small but meaningful luxury, especially since new admissions were officially closed. I was the exception.
Velmora had always called to me—its stories, its legacy. Its secrets. There were even rumors about the supernatural, vague murmurs of vampires and things that watched from shadows. Of course, everyone said it was nonsense. Just student folklore. But it always lingered at the edge of conversations, like a rumor no one truly believed—but no one fully denied either.
The boys' dorms were split into two grand buildings separated by a long stone path and an imposing wrought-iron gate. One was called House Umbra. The other, mine, was House Virelle. The girls' dormitories followed the same structure: House Ignis and House Lunaris. Each building had its own housemaster or housemistress, whose quarters sat close to the gate in a smaller, stern-looking structure.
It took a while, but I finally managed to unpack. My clothes were now neatly folded or hung, my books stacked with military precision. I pulled out my uniform and admired it with reverence. It was refined—crisp ruby red fabric, polished buttons, and a crest that gleamed under the dim room light. It made me feel like I belonged here, unlike Brightwaters University—my former school—which felt like a long, dull fever dream I was desperate to forget.
Just as I was folding the last of my sweaters, a knock echoed through the room.
I blinked.
That was odd.
The dorm was supposed to be empty.
I walked to the door and opened it, expecting no one, but was instead greeted by Mr. Raven—the housemaster of Virelle. Tall, sharply dressed, with a trimmed goatee and eyes that read more than they showed.
"Good afternoon, sir," I greeted, a little startled but smiling nonetheless.
"I came to check how you're settling in," he said. "Any issues so far?"
"None at all. Just really excited to be here."
He smiled faintly. "I like that enthusiasm. If you need anything, my office is just by the gate. When you're done settling in, come by to collect your schedule and timetable."
"Thank you, sir. I will."
He nodded and turned, his footsteps vanishing into the long hallway. I shut the door gently, a newfound energy coursing through me. I resumed folding my uniform and hanging it with care, holding up one pair just to admire how it looked. It felt expensive—powerful. It made me feel like someone. Brightwaters had never made me feel that way.
As I let my thoughts drift, a second knock startled me out of my daydream.
I paused.
Maybe it was Mr. Raven again?
I approached the door, opened it—nothing.
No one in the hallway.
My skin prickled.
I stepped out, looked left and right. Nothing.
A chill settled over me, heavy and slow.
No. I wasn't going to panic. Not yet.
I closed the door and hastily pulled my shirt back on, suddenly feeling exposed. I contemplated bolting straight out the dorm… or maybe staying put was smarter.
Then the knock returned.
Slower this time. Measured. Rhythmic. Twelve beats—one, one two, three, three, repeated twice, then followed by the last two beats that came at a more slower pace, four….four.
My heartbeat accelerated like a runaway train, each thud echoing through my ribs. I crept toward the door, hesitating. Then I saw it—a shadow seeping in from the small crack under the door.
My breath hitched. "Wh-who's there?" I whispered, barely able to push the words out.
No answer.
Just silence.
And the shadow moved again. It pulsed and then slithered further into the room, expanding until it stretched across the walls and window like a sentient fog.
Then it took shape—a figure, cloaked and hooded, with no visible form. Just darkness.
My legs locked. I wanted to run. I couldn't.
My body refused to obey me.
This… this was real.
My hand groped behind me for the doorknob, but I couldn't tear my eyes from the figure. I glanced back for just a second—to find the knob—and when I turned forward again, it stood directly in front of me.
No face.
No features.
Just a presence that radiated cold, soulless energy.
Terror took over me like a storm. A scream rose from my chest, high and raw. "Ahhhhhhh!"
The knob wouldn't turn.
Locked.
Of course.
A goddamn horror cliché come to life.
The figure raised its hand slowly, deliberately, and pointed toward my neck. I tried to move, to cry, to do anything—but I was paralyzed by fear.
Its finger touched the base of my neck, and in that moment, a searing heat flashed across my skin. Then it vanished—just like that. Gone.
I gasped for breath, yanked the knob again, and this time it opened.
I didn't wait. I bolted.
The world blurred past me as I flew down the hallway, out into the open, until—
Crash.
I collided hard with Mr. Raven just as he was stepping into the building. We both hit the floor.
He groaned as I stumbled off him, trembling violently. My hands shook uncontrollably, and my breath came in broken gasps.
"Cassian?! What on earth—what's going on?" he demanded, startled.
"Mr… Mr. Raven…" My voice barely registered as sound.
He grabbed my shoulders firmly, trying to steady me. "Hey—look at me. You're okay. Breathe."
But I couldn't. I tried, but the panic had overtaken me. My vision blurred, breath shortening, heartbeat erratic.
And then—darkness.
---
Light trickled into my eyes like molasses, slow and unwelcome. The ceiling above me was unfamiliar. The sterile scent of antiseptic made it clear—I was in the infirmary.
Damn it. I had passed out.
I had almost made it to two years without a panic attack that bad. Almost.
I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes as my chest tightened with the memory of what happened.
"You're finally awake," a soft voice said from across the room.
I turned, squinting slightly. A girl with dark skin and long braids rose from a chair at the far end of the infirmary. She walked toward me with quiet confidence, pulling a stool closer and sitting beside me.
There was something about her. Something… familiar.
"I—uh… who are you?" I asked, my voice raspy.
She smiled faintly. "that mark on your neck…how long have you had it?"
That threw me.
"What?, what mark?".
"You haven't seen it yet?". She asked, her eyes squinted. "I suggest you check it in the mirror then". She pointed to a small door in the corner marked Restroom. "There. Go see for yourself."
I hesitated, confused, but got up and walked over. "Is the nurse in?"
"She stepped out for a bit. You're fine."
I nodded and pushed the door open. Left it ajar. The mirror reflected my confused face, pale and still shaken.
Then I turned my head—and saw it.
A faint circular mark just below the right side of my neck, like it had been branded there. Inside the circle were strange, intricate lines—runes, maybe? Symbols I didn't recognize.
My blood ran cold.
"What the hell…?" I whispered, my fingers grazing the warm skin around it.
And for the first time since the shadow disappeared, I realized—it was the same place that creature touched.
Something had marked me.
And it hadn't been human.