Claimed by the Prince of Darkness-Chapter 46: Scent of forgotten shadows

It was past five in the evening, and Ruelle sat curled up on the worn velvet couch, her knees tucked beneath her. The low rumble of thunder rolled outside, shaking the windows with its distant warning of a storm. Faint echoes of muffled laughter outside the heavy wooden door could be heard.

Dane had left an hour ago, hovering like an older brother Ruelle had never had the opportunity to know. He made sure she ate and rested. Now alone, she read a book Hailey had passed to her two days ago. Her friend’s words were, "I was told it was going to be helpful in Seduction Techniques class," but just a few pages in, her cheeks burned.

This was the type of book that, if caught reading outside Sexton, women would be dipped in a bathtub of holy water. Yet she couldn’t deny the curiosity that tugged at her as she flipped to the next page.

’...her breath hitched as his lips brushed her ear, his voice low and commanding. His fingers teased beneath the edge of her dress, tracing the line of her thigh—’

"Feeling better?"

The deep voice startled her, and Ruelle slammed the book shut, fumbling to shove it behind her pillow. Her wide eyes flew to the doorway. There stood Lucian, his tall figure half-shadowed against the dim light of the corridor. His dark cloak hung off his shoulders, dripping rainwater onto the floor, his expression neutral but sharp enough to set her heart racing.

"I—" Ruelle cleared her throat, her cheeks burning. "I didn’t hear you come in."

"I noticed," Lucian replied dryly, stepping fully into the room. "I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important," he added, his tone as smooth and cool as the storm air outside. His gaze flickered to the pillow briefly, then to her flushed face.

"No, I was just reading," Ruelle said quickly, her voice uneven. "I’m feeling better. Dane made sure I rested."

"I see," Lucian murmured. He then turned towards the open door and instructed someone outside, "Bring it in and set it by the bath."

Soon, Ruelle noticed two guards step into the room, carrying a tall, polished wooden divider between them. Without a word, they placed it neatly beside the bath and straightened as though awaiting further orders.

"Dismissed," Lucian said flatly, shutting the door behind them as they left. When his eyes met Ruelle’s, he said, "I thought it would be inconvenient to ask you to leave the room every time I needed privacy."

"I am sorry for causing you inconvenience," Ruelle murmured, her voice small.

"Don’t trouble yourself with idle thoughts," Lucian replied coolly as he shrugged off his cloak. Water dripped onto the floor as he hung it on the coat rack. His damp hair fell into his eyes, and he brushed it back with a precise, impatient hand. He then moved to the drawer, pulling out a bundle of candles.

"Let me do that," Ruelle said quickly, rising from the couch.

"Sit." The single word, spoken softly, carried an authority that stopped her mid-step. Lucian turned his head, his dark eyes pinning her in place.

"But—"

Lucian’s slight narrowing of his eyes silenced her, and she sank back into the couch. "You’re still recovering," he remarked, his voice low but firm. "Stop wearing yourself out trying to please everyone."

When he returned to his task, lighting the candles around the room, the golden glow flickered to life, casting warm shadows on the walls and illuminating his sharp features. She couldn’t help but think how light had a strange way of softening even the hardest of edges, as though it were intent on unravelling the aloofness he so carefully maintained.

The next day, the storm had passed, leaving Sexton bathing in warm sunlight.

Inside the potion classroom for first years, the Groundlings and Elites sat in front of flasks and tubes. Ruelle sat between Hailey and Kevin. Mr. Savantique, their instructor of the class, spoke,

"Today, we will attempt to make an exciting potion that delves deep into the soul," he began, his gaze sweeping the room. "A memory potion, if done correctly, can pull forth repressed or forgotten memories. If done poorly—" He paused, letting the silence stretch. "—it might summon... less pleasant things. Things that frighten and worry you. This exercise is designed to be harmless physically, but I must caution you that it would be better to get it right the first time."

A murmur rippled through the students, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

"Proceed with care," Mr. Savantique continued, his tone both warning and encouraging. "As always, the key lies in balance. Too much of one ingredient, too little of another, and you risk tipping the scales. Pay attention to the instructions that have been placed before you. A reminder that it takes twelve ingredients to make."

Ruelle exchanged a glance with Hailey, who seemed as excited as her to get started. As much as they walked on eggshells at Sexton, it was classes like these that made this place something to look forward to.

"Women should have no trouble creating the perfect potion," Hailey commented as she began to cut and powder one of the ingredients.

The recipe was simple and the ingredients were placed on the shelves for the students’ use. But as Ruelle added each component to her cauldron, she felt a strange weight settle over her. The mixture bubbled and hissed, its colour shifting unpredictably between pale red and then dirty brown.

"Why do all our potions look different...?" Kevin asked in worry. "Mine has turned pink..."

"Because you are leaving the potion to brew with only four of the required ingredients, Mr. Reynolds," Mr. Savantique appeared right behind him. "Even if everyone gets the details right, even a minute makes a difference, and the memory viewing might not be the same for every person."

Mr. Savantique then walked to look at Ruelle’s potion, before glancing at Hailey’s cauldron and then moving to the next student.

"I think my potion is ready," Ruelle murmured. As the potion settled into a pale silver hue, a faint mist began to rise from it, curling delicately upward.

"I am almost done too!" Hailey replied with excitement.

Kevin looked unsure at his potion, and said worried, "Why do I feel like I am going to see a ghost?"

Ruelle leaned forward, letting the mist reach her face. The scent was faintly prickly, like breathing in grounded chillies, but with a sharp metallic edge that sent a shiver down her spine. It curled towards her nose and mouth, and she felt an odd pull, as if the potion were drawing her in. Her surroundings began to blur, the laughter and chatter of the classroom fading into a distant hum.

Suddenly, Ruelle felt that the sunlight streaming through the Potion Room windows was gone, replaced by the flickering orange glow of firelight. The air was thick with the stench of smoke and the metallic tang of blood. A low, feral growl rumbled in the distance, followed by the unmistakable sound of steel clashing against steel.

"AAAAAHHH!!! RUN!" The piercing scream of a man echoed, his terror so raw it made Ruelle’s heart pound.

"THE CITIES ARE UNDER ATTACK!"

Ruelle right now stood barefoot on scorched earth, its heat licking at her skin through the soles of her shoes. Screams rented the air—a high-pitched wail followed by chaos. She staggered back, confusion clawing at her mind.

What is going on?! Ruelle asked herself. Did her potion go wrong? Was she hallucinating? Before she could think further, she heard her father’s voice, sharp and demanding.

"Did she return?!" His face was marred with ash, anger, and fear.

"She’s here!" her mother’s voice rang out. There were more screams in the background which chilled Ruelle.

Ruelle’s father turned to her younger self, his hand gripping her arm so tightly it hurt. "What did you do?!" he bellowed, his voice cracking under the weight of rage and desperation. He shook her violently, forcing her to meet his blazing eyes. "What did you do to release death?!"

"I—I didn’t—" the young Ruelle stammered, her voice trembling, but the words died in her throat.

A distant scream tore through the air: "RUN BEFORE IT’S TOO LA—" The voice was silenced abruptly, swallowed by the merciless fangs of vampires.

Her father’s grip on her arm tightened as he spun towards the chaos. He shouted, "CURSED CREATURES! Tch! They will pay for this!"

"We should leave before it is too late!" her mother said, carrying Caroline in her arms. Her father roughly dragged her from there, with her mother and sister following closely—

"...elle? Ruelle?"

Kevin’s voice broke through the haze, yanking her back to the present. Ruelle gasped, blinking rapidly as the fiery world dissolved into smoky wisps. Her vision cleared, and she found herself gripping the edge of her cauldron, her knuckles white. The classroom came back into focus—the steady hum of brewing potions, the faint murmurs of her peers, the bubbling of cauldrons surrounding her.

"Are you okay?" Kevin’s voice was tinged with concern, his brows knit as he leaned towards her. "Potion mishap?"

"Maybe..." Ruelle murmured, pressing a hand to her chest in an attempt to steady her racing heart. The phantom heat and screams still clung to her, vivid and unrelenting. "Thanks for snapping me out of it."

"Anytime," Kevin said with a grin, his worry dissolving as he turned back to his cauldron. He leaned over it, taking an exaggerated sniff of the rising vapours. "Smells like trash."

Ruelle couldn’t help but question what she had experienced. She didn’t know where to place what she saw except for her imagination, as she couldn’t remember what it was about.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, blood-curdling shriek from across the room. Every head turned as a male student stumbled backward, clutching his chest, his face contorted in pain.

The room fell silent, the air thick with shock and unease. Mr. Savantique, their instructor, was at the boy’s side in an instant, his long coat sweeping the floor as he knelt. "Stay calm," he commanded, his voice steady even as he assessed the situation. The faint scent of burned ingredients wafted from the student’s workstation, mingling with the tension that gripped the room.

"At least our potions didn’t try to kill us," Hailey muttered under her breath, her head craned as she tried to get a better view.

"Everything is under control," Mr. Savantique announced, his sharp gaze sweeping over the class as he helped the pale, trembling student to his feet. "I will escort Mr. Tomas to the infirmary. I expect all of you to continue working in my absence."

When classes finally ended, Ruelle, Hailey, and Kevin made their way through the corridors, the hum of lingering conversations fading as students scattered.

"Did you hear about the soiree?" Hailey whispered, leaning in close. Her eyes darted around to make sure no one overheard. "It’s being hosted by the Elites. Some of the Halflings and humans will be there too."

Ruelle frowned, tilting her head slightly. She asked, "The Elites have soirees all the time, don’t they? In their wing."

Hailey shook her head, her smile widening. "Not like this one. This is different. It’s not just a little gathering behind their gilded doors. This is going to be at the manor—the one outside Sexton. A formal event, Ruelle, with music, dancing, and wine so old it probably tastes like the history books."

Ruelle exchanged a glance with Kevin, who raised an eyebrow. Both shook their heads almost in unison.

"Come on," Hailey pressed, her tone edging on pleading. "Don’t you want to know what happens there? Everyone has been talking about it. It’s a one-time chance to see something incredible."

"Or something dreadful..." Ruelle murmured. How did students even manage to have a grand soiree when the tests were around the corner.

"You know they would sniff us out the second we step near the gate, right? ’Oh look, humans crashing the party—how cool. Shall we have them for snack or dinner?’"

Ruelle nodded, her expression calm but firm. She responded, "Kevin’s right, Hailey. It is not safe. Even if we could sneak in, why risk it? We are human—that alone paints a target on us. It’s not worth the trouble."

"But what if—" Hailey began.

"Hailey," Ruelle said evenly, "we have all been here long enough to know better. Vampires aren’t just...dangerous. They are unpredictable."

Hailey hesitated, her excitement dimming slightly. She nodded, before asking, "But what if they think we are one of them?"

"What are you talking about?" Ruelle asked curiously.

With a conspiratorial grin, Hailey reached into her bag, pulling out a small stoppered vial filled with an opaque, dark liquid. She held it up briefly before tucking it away again. She said,

"This is how. I got it from one of the alchemy students—third year. He owed me a favour. It is a perfume that will make vampires feel we are one of them. It hides the human scent. Close enough to fool even the sharpest nose. Our masks will do the trick—we’ll be ghosts slipping through their world!"