BLOODBOUND SECRETS: Letters From The Undead Book 1

The candlelight flickered against the rough stone walls, casting jagged shadows across the small, dimly lit chamber. The air carried the scent of damp parchment and melted wax, a familiar, almost comforting fragrance in the Duvall household. Selene Duvall sat hunched over the wooden table, her hands trembling as she clutched the letter, its wax seal already broken. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

Ravenwood Academy.

She read the words over and over, scarcely daring to believe them. The most esteemed school in the kingdom-an institution that housed the children of nobles, knights, and merchants so wealthy their coins never ceased jingling. A place she, a mere baker's daughter, had no business even dreaming of.

"By the gods, Selene, say something!" Margot Sinclair's voice broke through the silence. She leaned forward, her wild curls bouncing as she snatched the parchment from Selene's hands. "It says you have been accepted! On a full scholarship!"

Selene exhaled sharply, her disbelief warring with hope. "It cannot be real."

Margot scoffed. "Do you doubt your own eyes? It bears the academy's crest! The royal blue wax, the silver raven-"

"It does not make sense," Selene whispered. "Why would they choose me?"

Margot rolled her eyes and plopped onto the creaky chair beside her. "Perhaps because you are the brightest mind in this wretched city? Because you bested even the noble-born brats in the entrance exam?" She smirked. "Or perhaps because the gods have finally decided to bless you?"

Selene let out a breathless laugh, though her fingers still gripped the parchment as if it might vanish. The parchment was thick beneath her fingertips, the ink bold and elegant, yet doubt coiled tightly around her chest.

"This is for lords and ladies, Margot," she murmured, voice unsteady. "Not for-"

Margot slammed her hand against the table, making the lone candle flicker. "Do not finish that sentence. You belong there just as much as any of them."

Selene wanted to believe her. But all she could think of was her mother, frail and coughing in the other room, wasting away despite every tonic the healer prescribed. How could she leave? The only family she had, the woman who had given up everything for her?

As if sensing her turmoil, Margot softened. "Your mother would want this for you."

Selene swallowed the lump in her throat. "She spent our last coins on supplies. Said it was an investment in my future." She traced the academy's crest on the parchment. "I must not fail."

"You will not." Margot grinned and nudged her playfully. "But for now, you must celebrate. A new life awaits you, and you deserve at least one night to revel in it."

Selene hesitated. "I only thought to visit the bookstore before I leave. One last evening of peace."

Margot sighed dramatically. "You are hopeless. Very well, go. But do not wander where the city turns dark."

The streets of Blackmoor were restless at night, filled with merchants closing their stalls and drunkards stumbling out of alehouses. The scent of freshly baked bread mixed with the stench of unwashed bodies, creating an overwhelming musk. Selene kept her cloak pulled tight around her, her hood shadowing her face as she weaved through the labyrinth of cobblestone paths.

The bookstore sat nestled between a weaver's shop and an apothecary, its wooden sign swaying in the cold breeze. A bell chimed as she pushed open the door, and the familiar scent of ink and aged parchment enveloped her like an old friend.

"Ah, Selene," the old bookseller greeted, his spectacles perched at the end of his nose. "A final visit before your grand adventure?"

She managed a small smile. "I could not leave without one last story."

The old man chuckled. "A scholar through and through."

She ran her fingers along the spines of the books, the worn leather soothing beneath her fingertips. For a moment, the world outside did not matter.

It was only when the bell chimed again, signaling another customer, that a chill prickled her skin. She glanced over her shoulder. No one stood there. The door was shut.

The old man frowned. "Strange wind tonight."

Selene exhaled, shaking off the unease. "I shall take this one," she said, grabbing an old tome with gilded edges.

With the book tucked safely under her cloak, she stepped back onto the streets. The night had deepened, the moon hidden behind thick clouds. The air was sharper now, laced with something... off.

She quickened her pace.

A wrongness clung to the air.

A whisper.

She froze.

Her breath came fast and shallow as she turned into an alley-a shortcut home. She had walked this path countless times, but tonight, the darkness felt different.

A rustle.

She spun around.

Nothing.

Her pulse roared in her ears. She forced herself to move, her steps echoing against the stone walls.

Then, cold.

Unnatural.

A shadow moved, and before she could scream, something-someone-slammed into her, forcing the air from her lungs. Pain seared through her neck, white-hot and blinding. Her body convulsed. Hands like iron pinned her down, and then-sharpness.

Teeth.

Draining.

Her scream died before it could escape.

The world tilted, faded. Her limbs refused to move. A terrible cold seeped into her bones, and the edges of her vision blurred into nothingness.

A voice, deep and unfamiliar, whispered against her skin:

"You were never meant to be here."

Then, silence.

The parchment fell from her grasp, fluttering to the cobblestone. The inked words of her acceptance letter were soon marred by the dark, glistening pool of blood.

And in the suffocating darkness, Selene Duvall lay still.

Lifeless.

As the city continues unaware of the horror that has just unfolded.