Chapter 5 Broken As I Was

Skylar

“What are you all doing here?”

A thin professor with thick black hair and a beard strode towards us, wrapped in a heavy magical aura. My instincts immediately tightened. I shrank inward, instinctively trying to suppress the anomalous magic inside me.

I really didn’t want him detecting it. I took a small step back, lining myself up with Irlan, who towered over the others.

I hadn’t even opened my mouth to answer before the sharp echo of his shoes struck the stone floor faster and faster, each step pulsing like an incoming migraine until he was standing right in front of us.

“Well?” he snapped. “No one’s going to answer?”

“Skylar’s new, Professor. We were just welcoming her,” Elroth cut in smoothly. “Right, guys?”

“Yeah. Elroth’s right, Professor Varkesh,” Michael added, his polite tone stiff and awkward.

“She looked lost, so we helped,” Irlan said, glancing over his shoulder at Gils. “Didn’t we?”

“I, I mean, yes,” Gils squeaked.

An unimpressed silence followed.

“An untrustworthy incubus. An Alpha with an ego taller than the Sith Tower. A weak vampire who thinks the whole world is out to get him… and a Dragon Cross who can barely string a sentence together.” Varkesh’s voice pressed down on every word. “You expect me to believe you?”

I decided not to speak. I really didn’t need him turning his attention on me, especially when all I’d done was walk down a corridor and accidentally run into these four.

His sharp tongue only made Gils shrink further. Elroth, standing at the edge of the group, scoffed in a way that felt… justified, honestly. Irlan, on the other hand, looked completely unaffected—cold, distant, like he’d shoved in earplugs and was listening to music at full blast.

“We’re not lying,” Michael said, though his Alpha aura did absolutely nothing here. His voice weakened anyway.

“Equilibrium is not a place for sentimental cross-race gatherings,” Varkesh said flatly. “Especially not in the main corridor.”

A wave of regulatory magic swept through the hall, forcing us apart before my brain even told my legs to move.

Michael growled under his breath. Irlan stiffened. Gils dropped his gaze like a kid caught doing something wrong. Elroth smiled, because of course he did like this whole thing had gone exactly as expected.

“Disperse,” Varkesh repeated. “Unless you’d like me to file five violations at once.”

I didn’t wait for a third warning. I turned first, bag on my shoulder, head held high.

Not because I was obedient, but because standing between Michael’s painful, overprotective Alpha aura, Irlan’s ever-judging vampire stare, and Elroth who somehow always made me feel like a piece on a chessboard, was giving me a headache.

I didn’t know who I was supposed to be around them, and I hated that feeling.

If I’d learned anything at Equilibrium, it was this: never give a Dark Arts professor a reason to remember your name.

I walked quickly toward the dorms. Just before I turned the corner, though, I felt it. An odd sensation, like someone’s gaze sticking to my back.

Michael followed at a distance. I didn’t turn around. What was the point? I wasn’t in the mood to give him an excuse to accuse me of something ridiculous again.

**

The Equilibrium cafeteria was crowded as usual before dinner. Plates clattered, laughter burst out of nowhere, and cross-race conversations overlapped until the place sounded like a human train station at rush hour, the kind I’d only seen on their paid channels.

Normally, I’d complain internally. But after the day I’d had, the noise was oddly comforting. A reminder that the world kept moving even when my head was a mess. Crystal lamps hung low, casting warm golden light over long blackwood tables.

I grabbed a tray, picked something simple, and looked for a seat.

“Skylar!”

Gils waved from the far-right corner of the cafeteria, sitting alone, shoulders hunched like he was trying to take up as little space as possible.

I joined him, carefully setting my tray down so I wouldn’t spill the soup.

“If we sit here too long, a regulation professor might pop out of thin air again,” I muttered.

Gils smiled nervously. “I swear they teleport through student stress. It’ll be fine. Cross-race difference can’t exceed two. It’s in the rulebook.”

“Oh, brilliant,” I said dryly. “So I can actually eat in peace. You survive the grumpy professor?”

He chuckled. “Barely. He can’t banish me to another dimension. Intimidation magic’s banned, so that’s as far as he can go.”

I laughed softly and started eating.

The conversation flowed easily. No clashing auras. No loaded stares. Just two students sitting together, both desperately needing a drama-free meal.

It felt… nice. Finally someone normal—well, as normal as Equilibrium allowed. Even if he talked like he was permanently nervous.

Gils launched into a long story about his pet tortoise, Ember—a tiny creature who apparently had more personality than most third-years. According to him, Ember loved sunbathing so much he nearly fell asleep doing it, and hissed if anyone disturbed him.

“He likes routines,” Gils said seriously. “If his dinner’s five minutes late, he sulks.”

I laughed. “Your tortoise sounds more organised than me.”

“He’s fierce, for a tortoise,” Gils said proudly.

“Relatable,” I replied, grinning.

At Equilibrium, students were allowed to keep non-human pets as long as they weren’t dangerous, apparently for emotional stability across races.

Without realising it, I imagined having a pet of my own. A canary, maybe. Small. Loud. Always singing like the world wasn’t terrifying.

I wasn’t sure whether I liked canaries—or just envied how freely they breathed. Maybe I’d look for one on Beast Third Street someday. Show it to Gils. As I took a sip of my drink, the back of my neck prickled again.

Werewolf aura. My stomach tightened. I didn’t need to look to know who it was.

Michael sat with other werewolf students at a distant table. He wasn’t talking. Just watching me, his gaze heavy and unreadable.

I turned away.

Part of me wanted to challenge him—to stare back and tell him I didn’t need his protection or supervision. Another part of me wanted to feel safe. Like a she-wolf longing for her mate.

The contradiction made me feel sick with myself. I didn’t have the energy for that tonight.

After dinner, I returned to my room, took a quick hot shower, and collapsed onto my bed. Exhaustion dragged me under almost immediately.

I thought I’d sleep peacefully. I didn’t.

Elroth appeared again, because apparently I had zero authority over my own subconscious.

His face was tense this time, not like yesterday when he’d been annoyingly easy to ignore.

“Skylar,” he said urgently. “Listen to me.”

Black shadows crawled through the Equilibrium hall around us like living ink swallowing pillars, floors, and light.

“Something’s moving,” he said. “You’re getting closer to the breach. The rift.”

My throat tightened. “What breach?”

“Someone wants you to open it.”

“Open what?” I snapped. “Be clear, Elroth!”

He grabbed my arm, pulling me back, but I stumbled. When he reached to help me up, the shadows swallowed him whole.

“Skylar…”

My name echoed.

I woke up gasping. My hands were hot, slick with sweat. On my left palm, a pulsing shadow mark throbbed real.

On the windowsill, part of me wanted to laugh hysterically. Of course. A vampire at a girl’s window at midnight. If there were a survival guide for Equilibrium, this would definitely be in the top ten situations you should not normalize and yet, somehow, I had.

Why couldn’t I feel calm for even one full day? Bloody hell.

“What are you doing here?” I snapped, yanking the blanket higher over my body, which was only covered by a thin tank top.

Irlan stood there, scanning my room.

“This is a girls’ room,” I added sharply.

“I know,” he said quietly.

I should’ve kicked him out—cold words, defensive posture, my usual routine, but tonight felt different. He wasn’t standing tall with that aristocratic vampire arrogance. His shoulders slumped slightly, posture stiff, like even he wasn’t sure he should be here.

He looked genuinely lost.

The silence between us wasn’t tense—just awkward. Like two people equally bad at starting honest conversations. I realised something I often forgot:

He wasn’t okay either. He was just as broken as I was.

I straightened slightly, leaning back against the headboard, still clutching the blanket over my chest.

He stepped closer then stopped. His gaze fixed on my hand, like the mark might speak if he stared long enough.

“What caused it?” he asked suddenly, as if reading my thoughts.

“A bored grandmother who wanted immortality like yours,” I said lightly. “This isn’t a normal mark.”

“Ridiculous,” he muttered, agreeing.

I hesitated, then asked, “Yeah. Maybe she thought ageing was fashionable. By the way, This Valentina—”

“Don’t.”

His tone wasn’t angry. Just… hurt. I nodded, understanding without pressing. That name probably tied back to whatever Professor Varkesh had hinted at.

I lifted my arms to tie my hair. An automatic movement I didn’t think twice about. I’d left the window open for the summer night breeze, hoping it would cool me down.

I didn’t think it’d be a mistake.

Irlan closed his eyes, inhaled sharply, then turned toward me. His eyes glowed red. His fangs slid out slowly.

For a split second, a bitter, badly-timed thought crossed my mind:

My life seriously needs to stop collecting emotionally unstable supernatural beings.

Strangely, the scariest part wasn’t his vampiric side. It was the fact that I could feel him fighting it. He leaned down, not exactly toward me but toward my neck.

Every hair on my body stood on end. I wanted to use magic, but the bracelet on my wrist would definitely alert Equilibrium and land me in detention.

So I closed my eyes. For a moment, I imagined his fangs sinking into my skin.

When I opened them again, Irlan was frozen—his fangs hovering just short of my neck.

“Skylar,” he whispered. “Hold me back.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding far too loudly for such a small room.

What was I supposed to say?

“Don’t… bite me?” I said finally. Quiet, but firm.

He froze.

“What?” I added. “You’re not exactly…”

Irlan lifted his head, looking straight at me. No blinking. Right—vampires don’t blink. He smiled faintly, lips brushing against mine with deliberate slowness.

Cold and wet, but I liked the way he kissed me.