Now that Shira and I had managed to provide Sebastian with the right amount of blood, the reality of his strength hit us like a storm. Until that moment, I don't think either of us had truly grasped the sheer, terrifying power of a servant vampire.
Sebastian wasn't just strong—he was something beyond that. Servant vampires, after all, are the right-hand companions of purebloods, carefully chosen and trained to stand beside them. It was no surprise that Sebastian possessed such strength, but witnessing it was another matter entirely. His power wasn't just impressive; it was overwhelming. Terrifying, even. And yet, I wasn't afraid of him.
No, what truly scared me was the academy. If they ever discovered just how much power they could wield over Sebastian, they wouldn't hesitate to exploit it. The thought alone sparked a protective instinct within me, one that burned hot in my chest as I watched him spar with Shira. He moved with an almost inhuman grace, ducking just in time to avoid one of her sharp kicks.
Since the day of his accidental hypnotization—when he'd unintentionally turned his power on me—there hadn't been any more incidents. Shira had been furious about it, of course, but I'd had to remind her that Sebastian wasn't like other servant vampires. Most of them had been human once, trained and conditioned for their roles. Sebastian was different. He was... more.
Still, it wasn't surprising that he'd gotten a little carried away when he first felt his newfound strength. I trusted him, though. I trusted him enough to know he wouldn't abuse it—not intentionally.
But I couldn't forget what I'd felt that day when he'd looked at me, his power brushing against my mind like a whisper. I'd felt his longing, his hunger—not for blood, but for something deeper, something far more human. The craving for touch, for connection, had manifested so strongly that it had spilled over into his abilities, and the memory of it left a dull ache in my chest. He had been starving for something no amount of strength could give him.
I let out a small sigh as Shira's foot connected with Sebastian again, sending him sprawling to the mat. He refused to fight back, which only seemed to annoy her further.
"Sebastian," she snapped, hands on her hips as he groaned and propped himself up on his elbows, "how many times do I have to tell you to hit me? You're not going to hurt me."
Sebastian shook his head, his messy dark hair falling into his eyes. "I... I can't," he muttered, his voice low and hoarse. He pushed himself up slowly, but his movements were sluggish, and it was clear he was nearing his limit.
I sighed again, louder this time. "Training's over," I said before I could think better of it.
Both Shira and Sebastian looked up in surprise. Relief flickered in Sebastian's eyes, though he didn't move. Instead, he slumped back onto the mat with a groan, letting his head fall to the side. Shira, on the other hand, rolled her eyes and grabbed a towel from the bench, wiping the sweat from her face.
"You're too soft on him," she muttered as she walked past me.
I snorted, stepping closer to where Sebastian lay sprawled on the floor. He looked half-asleep already, his chest rising and falling heavily. "You alright there?" I asked, crouching down beside him.
He blinked up at me, his expression unreadable for a moment before he quickly coughed and turned his head away. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired, that's all," he said, his voice awkward and strained.
I frowned, tilting my head as I studied him. "You sure?"
"I'm fine," he repeated, but he still wouldn't meet my eyes. His hand came up to rub the back of his neck, a nervous habit I'd seen him do a hundred times before.
I glanced over my shoulder at Shira, who shrugged and took a long sip from her water bottle. "Well," I said, turning back to him, "go take a bath. Shira and I will be in the living room."
Sebastian nodded once and stood, though his movements were stiff and unusually hesitant. I watched him disappear down the hall, my chest tightening with unease. Lately, he'd been acting... strange. It wasn't anything obvious, nothing that Shira seemed to notice, but I'd caught the little things—the way he avoided looking me in the eye, the way he flinched slightly whenever I got too close. It wasn't like him at all.
Had I done something wrong? The thought gnawed at me, though I forced myself to shove it aside. I trusted Sebastian. If there was something wrong, I believed he would tell me. At least, I hoped he would.
"So, there's been a lot of sightings of Minerva in the past year," Shira said, breaking the silence as she walked into the living room and dropped a stack of folders onto the coffee table. "I managed to get a few reports from people in town. They've been talking about some 'White Lady,' which they think is a ghost."
My curiosity flared instantly. I grabbed one of the folders and flipped it open, scanning the contents. "A White Lady, huh? So they think she's some kind of ghost?"
"I suppose," Shira began, her voice low but steady, "they all say they've seen the woman near the edge of the forest. Some students from the local schools even posted about her on forums—the same lady who speaks to them in strange, cryptic ways." She glanced at me, her eyes clouded with thought as I gave her a small nod, encouraging her to continue.
"So," I said, piecing together the fragments of information, "this must all be from before she came into contact with Sebastian. It's possible that the moment she… bit him, she had already decided to leave. After all, everything we've seen or heard points to the same conclusion—she was looking for someone. Someone worthy of being her servant."
I tapped my chin, my mind racing with the implications. Shira nodded, her movements slow and deliberate, as if she were weighing every word in her mind.
"That's what I believe as well," she said carefully. "It's likely Minerva has already moved on."
Her words sent a cold ripple through my chest. My heartbeat quickened, a nervous rhythm I couldn't quite suppress. Until now, I had clung to the hope that Minerva was merely lying low, still somewhere nearby, watching from the shadows. Surely a pureblood wouldn't abandon their servant? That went against everything we knew about their kind.
"Let's not jump to that conclusion," I said, biting my lip as I tried to steady myself. "Minerva wouldn't just leave her servant. A pureblood needs their servant—it's more than just loyalty. Losing one would mean more than a personal failure. It would be a stain on their reputation, a sign of weakness among the other purebloods."
Shira seemed to agree, offering a quiet nod. The tension in her shoulders eased just slightly, but the uncertainty lingered in her gaze. It didn't make sense for Minerva to leave Sebastian, not after she'd turned him. There had to be more to this.
I watched as Shira moved to the coffee table, her hands quick and efficient as she tidied the scattered papers and organized the folders. The sharp shuffle of documents filled the room, grounding me for a moment, until the sound of footsteps drew my attention.
Sebastian emerged from the bathroom, his dark hair damp and curling at the edges, a towel draped loosely around his neck. His expression was unreadable, but there was something heavy in his eyes as he walked over and dropped into the seat beside me.
Shira gave him a brief glance before excusing herself, the files clutched tightly in her hands as she disappeared into the next room.
I turned to Sebastian, studying him carefully. "You must have overheard," I said softly.
He nodded, his gaze fixed on the floor. "I did." His voice was quiet, laced with guilt. "I'm sorry I'm not much use right now." He winced, his hands curling into fists in his lap.
"None of that," I said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Don't think like that, Sebastian. You're helping us just by being here. The fact that Minerva turned you—made you her servant—proves that she hasn't disappeared entirely. She's still connected to you somehow."
But Sebastian didn't seem convinced. His jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line. That look in his eyes—the one that spoke of doubt and quiet desperation—tugged at something deep within me. "You think that's true?" he asked hesitantly.
"I know it is," I said firmly, meeting his gaze. "Vampires are prideful creatures. Their power extends through their servants, like an extension of themselves. What do you think it says about a pureblood if their servant is incapable of defending themselves, of holding their own? It would be a humiliation they couldn't afford."
Sebastian tilts his head, his expression pensive. "I suppose… badly," he murmurs, his voice trailing off. For a moment, he seems lost in thought, but then his gaze sharpens as if an idea has struck him. He hesitates, then asks, "Do you think she'd get angry if I got hurt?"
The question catches me off guard, and I blink at him in surprise. "Angry?" I repeat, as though saying the word aloud might help me make sense of it. Then I hum thoughtfully, piecing together the implications. "She'd definitely know if you did," I say slowly. It's an undeniable fact—servants are intrinsically tied to their pureblood masters. If Sebastian were injured, Minerva would sense it instantly. She'd know precisely where he was, down to the last detail.
And then it hits me. I realize exactly what Sebastian is thinking.
My heart tightens, and before I can stop myself, the words spill out, sharp and reprimanding. "No! You can't hurt yourself just to get her attention."
Sebastian flinches, his eyes widening in shock at my vehemence. His reaction startles me, too. I didn't think I cared this much. I didn't think I could sound so… protective.
"I—I wasn't going to!" he stammers quickly, his hands raised defensively. But then his voice drops, quieter, as if he's speaking more to himself than to me. "But… if I were technically in danger, do you think she'd care enough to save me?"
I let out a slow, measured sigh, dragging my hand down my face. My mind churns with the implications of his words, the risks, the uncertainties. "It's… debatable," I say at last. "I've heard of purebloods who kill their servants for being useless, Sebastian. I don't want to risk anything like that. Not right now."
He mimics my sigh, his lips curling into a faint, awkward chuckle. "Sorry for even bringing it up," he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. But then his voice takes on a strange, almost defiant edge. "Still… technically, we don't have anything to lose, do we? I can't actually die. You'd only be injuring me."
The casual way he says it—like his own pain is irrelevant—sends a flicker of anger through me, hot and immediate. My chest tightens, and something else stirs beneath it. Something I can't quite name, something raw and unsteady.
"No," I say firmly, my voice low but full of steel. "That's final. I won't let you get hurt. Not for this. Not for her."
Sebastian bites his lip, his eyes darting away from mine. "Right," he mutters, his tone subdued.
The room falls into silence, heavy and tense, the air between us taut like a drawn bowstring. I can feel it pressing down on us, unspoken thoughts swirling just out of reach.
Finally, I clap my hands together, the sound breaking through the tension like a crack of thunder. "Alright," I say, forcing a smile as I exhale slowly. "That's enough of that. Let's move on. How about we play some games to relax? Clear our heads?"
Sebastian looks up at me, surprise flashing across his face. For a moment, I think he might decline. But then his eyes soften, and a faint spark of light returns to them. "Alright," he says quietly, his lips curving into the barest hint of a smile.
***
"Eek! A semester break—just what I need!" Kath practically shrieked, her excitement ringing through the air as she skipped beside me. Her fiery energy was infectious, and I couldn't help but smile softly at her enthusiasm.
"School isn't so bad," I quipped casually, knowing full well what kind of reaction I'd get.
As expected, Kath froze mid-skip, spinning toward me with an exaggerated look of horror, her hands on her hips. "Of course you would say that!" she groaned dramatically. From the corner of my eye, I caught Sebastian glancing up briefly from his phone before tossing me a pointed glare of his own.
"Seriously," Kath continued, tossing her hair over her shoulder, "I'll never understand why you like school so much. It's like... torture, but with more paperwork!"
I chuckled, shrugging lightly. "Well, I suppose before coming here, I didn't have many friends at all. Maybe a few acquaintances, at best." I tapped my chin thoughtfully, realizing the truth of my words as they came out. My smile faltered as memories of the past resurfaced—memories I hadn't thought about in a long time. I guess I never really cared to make friends back at the academy.
Kath stopped in her tracks, her expression softening. "Wait... what do you mean by that?"
I hesitated, glancing down at the cobblestone path beneath us. The rhythmic tapping of Sebastian's fingers on his phone filled the brief silence. "Well... with my parents' expectations constantly hanging over me, I spent so much time trying to live up to them that I just—skipped over all of it, really. Friendships, fun, all of that. It wasn't until I came here that I realized just how lonely I'd gotten."
Kath gasped audibly, her hand flying to her chest as if I'd just recounted the saddest tragedy she'd ever heard. "Oh my gosh... that's so sad!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with what looked like genuine pity.
I blinked at her, startled by the intensity of her reaction. "It's not—" I began, but my words faltered when I caught Sebastian's expression. He wasn't glaring anymore, nor was he focused on his phone. Instead, he was staring at me with an unreadable look, his lips pressed into a thin line. Was that... concern?
I cleared my throat, scrambling for something to lighten the mood. "It's really not that bad!" I said quickly, forcing a laugh. "Actually, I was homeschooled for a while! That's all."
Kath's eyes widened even further, and before I could react, she flung her arms around me in a dramatic hug. "Oh, my poor boy! My poor, pretty boy!" she wailed, squeezing me tightly.
I laughed awkwardly, patting her back as she continued lamenting my "tragic" childhood. "Kath, seriously, it's fine," I said, though my voice was muffled by her shoulder.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Sebastian watching us, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in what might have been an attempt to smother a laugh. His hands were still holding his phone, but his attention was entirely on me.
Eventually, Kath released me, though not without ruffling my hair and calling me a "pitiful baby" one last time. I was just starting to breathe freely again when Sebastian unexpectedly turned to me.
"Come over to my place," he said, his tone casual but firm.
I blinked, caught off guard. "Huh? Now?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."
It wasn't a question, not really, and before I could think of an excuse, Kath was already waving us off with a cheeky grin, apparently thrilled by the idea.
The walk to his house was quieter than I expected. Sebastian wasn't much of a talker to begin with, but the silence between us felt heavier than usual. I glanced at him, hoping to gauge his mood, but his expression was unreadable, his eyes fixed straight ahead.
"This is... kind of sudden," I said after a while, breaking the silence with a nervous laugh. "I should probably text Shira to let her know I'll be home late."
"Okay," Sebastian replied simply, his voice even.
I shot her a quick text, telling her not to wait up. As I slid my phone back into my pocket, I hesitated before asking, "Are you sure your family's okay with me coming over? I mean, I don't want to impose or anything."
Sebastian glanced at me then, raising an eyebrow. "You didn't seem to care about that a few days ago," he said dryly, his lips quirking into the faintest of smirks.
I grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of my neck. "Well, yeah, but still—"
"Relax," he cut me off, his tone softer now. "It's fine."
"Well, I guess this is as good a way as any to kick off the semester break, huh?" I said, elbowing him lightly.
Sebastian snorted, shaking his head. "Sure," he replied, but I caught the subtle smile that lingered on his face long after.
***
Sebastian was usually the first one to come home, and, as expected, the house was quiet when we arrived. Most of the lights were off, leaving the place draped in a stillness that felt almost eerie. Only the soft, warm glow of the yellow kitchen lights illuminated the otherwise darkened space, casting long shadows that stretched across the walls.
"If you want, we can hang out in my room," Sebastian said after a moment, his tone casual but a little clipped. He flicked on a couple of lights, though it didn't do much to brighten the house. "I don't usually stay out here."
"Oh, my divines! I get to see your room?" I teased, a grin tugging at my lips. My voice was light and playful, but I couldn't resist the urge to poke at him a little.
Sebastian froze mid-step, turning to glare at me over his shoulder. "Don't make it weird," he muttered, though the way he quickly looked away gave him away. His face was tinged with red, and I bit back a laugh as he hurried up the stairs, clearly flustered.
I followed after him, trailing behind at a more leisurely pace. As we ascended, I noticed the second floor was quieter still, the air heavy with that distinct stillness that comes when a house is unoccupied. Four doors lined the hallway, but one stood open, revealing a room bathed in darkness. The blinds were drawn, and from the faint silhouette of a bed cloaked in rumpled sheets, I could only assume it was Sebastian's.
"Ah, wait," Sebastian said abruptly, snapping me out of my observations. He reached into the room and flicked the light on.
The sudden brightness revealed a space that was, well, very Sebastian. His room was of modest size, smaller than mine, though mine doubled as an office, so I wasn't exactly surprised. The walls were painted a cool gray, and the furniture was simple and functional, albeit slightly disheveled. A few jackets were tossed haphazardly onto the closet door, and Sebastian moved quickly to grab them, muttering something under his breath as if just realizing they were there.
"Wow, nice room!" I said with an exaggerated cheerfulness, stepping inside and looking around. It wasn't pristine, but it had a cozy, lived-in feel.
Sebastian rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed by my enthusiasm. "Sure," he said, his tone dry.
My gaze wandered, eventually landing on something that made me raise an eyebrow. "Why is your TV on the floor?" I asked, gesturing toward the flat-screen positioned awkwardly on the ground, surrounded by a chaotic tangle of wires.
Sebastian turned to me, his expression caught somewhere between embarrassment and resignation. A faint flush crept up his neck before he sighed. "I broke my desk," he admitted, rubbing the back of his head. "Now I have to leave it like that until I can save up enough to replace it."
I couldn't help but chuckle at his tone, which was equal parts annoyed and defeated. "Well, it adds character to the room," I teased lightly as I leaned against the doorframe.
Sebastian shook his head, clearly not amused, and sat down on the edge of his bed. He patted the spot beside him, a silent invitation, and I crossed the room to join him, plopping down with a grin.
"Your room is really nice, though," I said again, trying to sound sincere this time. It really wasn't bad—there was something comfortable about it, even if it wasn't perfect.
Sebastian shot me a skeptical look, his lips quirking upward in the faintest of smirks. "Sure," he said again, this time with a hint of amusement. Then his eyes flickered down to the floor, where a controller lay abandoned near the TV.
"You're way more interested in playing, aren't you?" he said, catching me staring.
I grinned, unable to deny it. "You know me too well," I said, leaning over to grab the controller.
Sebastian let out a soft snort, leaning back against the headboard as I fiddled with the tangled wires. "Yeah. Unfortunately."