Page 2 of Secrets Of Blackwood
Lifting again at the corner of his mouth, he says, “Only to me.” And despite the warning bells, I inch closer to the flame, daring to feel its warmth.
DAMIEN
Leaning against the locker, I watch her fumble with the map of the academy while my arms are folded across my chest. The paper trembles in her hands—a stark contrast to the steady hum of students milling around us, lost in their own worlds. It’s a chaos she doesn’t belong to, not yet, and something within me refuses to let her drown in it.
“Let me guess,” I say, voice low and controlled, “Room B237 for European History?”
LILY
Startled, I glance up into those stormy eyes that appear to see right through me. How did he know? My heart skips, then races, like it’s caught in a high-speed chase with no clear escape route.
“Is it written on my face?Before I can stop them, the words escape me, failing to mask the tremor in my voice.
Damien’s smile, slow and almost predatory, holds an unexpected gentleness. “No,” he replies, “but confusion looks the same on every freshman’s face.”
DAMIEN
“Here.” I reach out, fingers brushing against hers as I take the map. The touch, though fleeting, is electric, instantly sending a jolt to my core. “I’ll show you the way.”
Her hesitation hangs between us like a delicate fog, and I wonder if she’ll step back or walk with me into the unknown.
LILY
For a moment, I assume the role of a statue, pondering the gravity of his offer. But then, as if pulled by an unseen force, I nod, trusting this enigmatic stranger more than I should. “Thank you,” I whisper, allowing myself to be led by Damien Blackwood, the boy who commands shadows and light with equal ease.
DAMIEN
My every instinct screams to protect her from the perils that lie in wait, hidden behind the academy’s grandiose façade. She moves beside me, a blend of curiosity and caution, and I feel the weight of her trust. It’s a responsibility I never wanted, yet I’m unable to push it away.
“Stick close,” I murmur, guiding her through the throng. “The academy isn’t always kind to the uninitiated.”
LILY
“I will,” I promise, surprised by the firmness in my voice. Damien’s presence is a bastion amid the swirling tide of fresh faces and looming statues. There’s danger here, a thrilling edge to our every step, and I can’t help but feel alive in a way I’ve never felt before.
As we move together, the world outside this labyrinth fades, with only the sound of our synchronized steps echoing, building anticipation for a dance neither of us is familiar with, yet one we are both eager to master.
DAMIEN
As the academy clamor swells around us, the marbled halls resonate with a cacophony of ambition and rivalry. Footsteps echo, a rhythmic beat against stone floors worn smooth by generations of students who’ve roamed these corridors with dreams as heavy as their textbooks. I catch the musky scent of leather-bound tomes mingling with the sharp tang of polished oak banisters, a fragrance as intrinsic to this place as the knowledge it hoards.
In a hushed tone, I caution Lily to mind the third step here as we descend the staircase together. It’s an odd defect, a stair slightly higher than the rest, notorious for tripping newcomers. She nods her appreciation, her focus on the treacherous step, unaware of how closely I watch her.
LILY
As I press my palm against the cool banister, I commit to memory its intricate carvings and the warmth radiating from Damien’s proximity. The whispering hush of turning pages drifts out from half-open doors as we pass, each room a cavern of secrets and lore. In this maze of academia, Damien is my steadfast guide, his confidence anchoring me in the tide of students that parts at his approach.
Our strides match, a synchrony that feels both foreign and exhilarating. As we maneuver a narrow passage, shoulder-to-shoulder, a laugh escapes me, light and unbidden, imposed by the very architecture of the academy itself. “It’s like navigating an ancient castle,” I remark, my voice laced with the wonder I feel, eyes wide as I take in the towering shelves and the stained glass windows that paint the floor with colored light.
Replies with a voice low and tinged with a pride that’s both endearing and somehow wistful, he says it’s better than any castle. He replies, his voice low and tinged with a pride that’s both endearing and somehow wistful, “This is where legends are made, where battles of the mind are fought and won.”
Being mindful of the undercurrents I sense swirling beneath the surface of his words, I add, “Or lost.” But Damien offers a small, enigmatic smile, as if acknowledging a shared secret, before urging me onward.
DAMIEN
The silence falls around us like a shroud as I lead Lily through one last turn in the corridor. As my boots strike the marble floors, their rhythm echoes off the vaulted ceilings, creating a harsh counterpoint to her softer steps. The air is ripe with the musky scent of aged parchment, and above us, the chandeliers cast dancing shadows that play upon Lily’s golden hair.
As I steal a glance at her, I observe how she bites her lip in concentration, oblivious to the impact she has on me. It’s disconcerting, this tenderness that wells within me at the sight of her, as if she’s some rare bloom in a wasteland, too delicate for the depravity that lingers just beneath the surface of these hallowed halls.