The second explosion tears through the courtyard with devastating, earth‑shaking force. Glass rains down from every nearby building, cutting sharp and cold through the smoke. The ground heaves and trembles beneath everyone’s feet as if the earth itself cannot bear the violence. Students are thrown off balance, stumbling and shrieking, as another roaring wave of fire surges upward from the burning truck—taller, hotter, brighter than before.
Rose presses her sleeve tight to her mouth and nose, fighting through searing heat and blinding smoke to reach the wreckage. She climbs onto the crumpled chassis of the lead truck, boots slipping on twisted metal, and leans into the driver’s cabin. The figure inside sits slumped forward, face hidden by shadow and flame. She cannot make out a single feature that might tell her who they are. She sprints coughing toward the second truck, then the third. The same story everywhere: drivers slumped, motionless, faces burned beyond recognition. All unconscious. None dead. Not yet.
Before she can drag them free or check for pulses, a third explosion erupts—deafening, shattering the air.
Rose barely has time to turn.
The blast strikes her from behind, hard and brutal. Her body is lifted completely off the ground, hurled through the air before crashing hard onto the unforgiving pavement several metres away. The world instantly dissolves into a swirling blur of smoke, searing heat, and a terrible, ringing silence that drowns out every other sound.
Around her, the vampires on campus—students and teachers alike—spring into action. They do not flee. They ignore their own cuts, bruises, and singed clothing, scooping humans into their arms and herding them toward safety, shielding them from falling debris and the worst of the heat.
Cherry. The name pierces through Rose’s daze, sharp and terrified. Where is Cherry? Is she safe?
For several long, endless seconds, Rose hears nothing but the high‑pitched ringing in her ears. She forces herself up onto her elbows, limbs trembling. Pain lances through her shoulder—deep, blinding, radiating down to her fingertips. Her vision refuses to steady; faces and shapes swim through the grey haze, unrecognisable.
People are shouting. Running. Calling names. Screaming for help.
Rose tries to stand. Her legs buckle beneath her the moment her weight settles onto them. She slams back down onto one knee, gasping, tasting dust and blood.
“No…” She forces the word out through gritted teeth, shaking her head to clear it. “Not now. Not when they still need me.”
She pushes herself upward again, bracing against the fire‑hot pain. This time she manages one step. Then another. Each movement costs her something, but she keeps moving. All around her, fear and chaos reign—vampires and humans alike, all trapped in the same smoke, all equally at the mercy of the spreading flames.
A weak, trembling cry reaches her through the roar.
“Help… please! Someone help me!”
She turns sharply, scanning the smoke until she spots him. Near the collapsed walkway, a first‑year student lies pinned beneath a fallen steel beam. Fire creeps closer, licking at the wood and stone, closing in fast. He will burn alive if she does not reach him.
Rose ignores the screaming pain in her shoulder and stumbles forward, smoke stinging her eyes until they water and blur. “Hold on! I’m coming! Just hold on!”
She drops to her knees beside the beam, gripping the twisted metal with both hands. It burns her palms—hot enough to blister ordinary skin. She grits her teeth and pulls. It is heavier than it looks—far too heavy for any ordinary human to shift. Heat sears her, but she does not let go. She is not fully a mature vampire, but the blood in her veins grants her strength and resistance that others lack. Even so, her injured shoulder screams in protest with every heartbeat, sending waves of agony through her whole body.
Still she strains.
“Come on…” She leans into the weight, feet braced against the rubble. “Lift!”
Slowly, agonisingly, the steel beam rises just high enough.
“Go! Crawl out now!” She gasps the words out, breath ragged and burning in her chest. “Quickly! Before it falls!”
The terrified student scrambles free, coughing and weeping, before several faculty members rush over and pull him clear of the flames. Only when she sees him carried safely beyond the fire line does Rose finally release the beam. It slams back down with a heavy, ringing clang that vibrates through the ground.
She staggers backward, her balance failing. Her breathing comes uneven and shallow, each inhalation tasting of ash. The smoke swallows the courtyard in great billowing waves. Flames climb higher along the buildings near the gates, roaring as they consume wood and stone. Sirens wail in the distance, growing closer with every minute, but they are still too far away.
A hand closes gently but firmly around her arm.
Rose flinches, instinctively pulling away. Her vision still blurs too much to tell friend from foe. She cannot make out who stands there.
Then she hears it.
“Rose!”
A familiar voice. Sharp with fear. Desperate. Closer than before.
“Rose, can you hear me? Answer me!”
She knows that voice. Even through the ringing in her ears, even through the roar of fire and the thunder of her own pulse, she knows it.
“Andrei…” She breathes his name like a lifeline.
He reaches her in the next heartbeat, catching her before she can collapse entirely. His hands settle firmly on her shoulders—careful of her injuries, yet holding her up as her knees give way. For a long, terrible moment he simply stares—at the soot streaked across her face, at the blood seeping through her torn uniform, at the way she leans heavily against him, barely able to stand.
His face pales to ashen grey. His heart feels as though it has stopped beating entirely.
“I got you,” he says, his voice rough with a terrifying mix of relief and raw, unmasked fear.