Secrets of blackwood a d.., p.1
Secrets Of Blackwood: A dark academia romance, page 1
Calia Quinn
Dark academia project
Copyright © 2024 by Calia Quinn
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Calia Quinn asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
First edition
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Contents
1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
9. Chapter Nine
10. Chapter Ten
11. Chapter Eleven
12. Chapter Twelve
13. Chapter Thirteen
14. Chapter Fourteen
15. Chapter Fifteen
16. Chapter Sixteen
1
Chapter One
DAMIEN
As I stride through the marble-floored hallways of the academy, my steps resonate with a silent authority that the pandemonium of passing students can’t drown out. The crowd parts for me—not in adoration, but in a blend of reverence and wariness, like I’m a current they’re too afraid to touch. They know better than to get in my way.
Stepping aside, someone mutters “Blackwood” with a tremor of unease in his voice. I don’t bother with names; they’re all just faces blurring in my periphery—subjects in my dark kingdom.
With a voice dripping with a mixture of fear and fascination, a girl whispers, “Damien.” Her friends pull her back, their eyes wide, knowing full well the stories that cling to my name like shadows.
Without breaking stride, I let the whispers wash over me, serving as an undercurrent to the steady beat of my boots on tile. I’m used to this dance, the silent reverence they offer like a prayer. To them, I am an enigma—a tempest wrapped in flesh and bone.
Respect is not a product of love or admiration; They’ve seen the scars, heard the rumors of the fights, the nights spent reckoning with demons that would have broken a lesser man.
As the air shifts around me, there is a charged atmosphere that signifies the unspoken understanding that I am not someone to be underestimated. In these hallowed halls where future leaders are molded, I command the tides as the unyielding force.
As I walk, the noise fades into nothing, while the symphony of my own turbulent thoughts takes its place, marking the quiet before another storm.
Upon the door creaking open, a timid sliver of light breaks through, signaling her arrival. She steps in—a fawn wandering into an uncharted forest—her gaze drinking in the grandeur of the academy’s vaulted ceilings and the solemn rows of ancient lockers standing like stoic sentinels. A flutter of nerves brushes across Lily Whitfield’s face, her lips parting slightly as she takes a tentative breath, her chest rising with dreams yet to be tethered by the gravity of this place.
Whispering to herself amidst the cacophony of laughter and scattered conversations that fill the air like discordant music, she murmurs, “First days.”
Her knuckles turn white from gripping too tight as her fingers graze the straps of her backpack, which serve as a lifeline to the familiarity of home. The world seems larger here, daunting, filled with shadows cast long by a history she’s yet to comprehend. Her bright blue eyes are awash with hope, a stark contrast to the undercurrent of apprehension that I sense will soon color her days within these walls.
I stand, rooted in the tempest, my gaze cutting through the throng of students. Fading into the background noise of my existence, their presence becomes nothing but a blur—until her. As I stand rooted in the tempest, my gaze cuts through the throng of students, and every thread of chaos is pulled taut, snapping back to reveal her, the lone figure bathed in the glow of naivety.
She doesn’t see me—not yet—but I see her. All of her. The way her golden hair cascades down her shoulders, a waterfall of sun-kissed strands that seem to capture the very essence of light. It’s not just her beauty that captures my attention; it’s the sheer untainted aura that surrounds her, a beacon of innocence amid this relentless storm.
“Who is she?” Even though no answer would suffice, my thoughts form the question. There’s something about her—the way she holds herself amidst the unknown—that stirs a curiosity within me, a desire to know the rhythm of her heart, the secrets that lie behind those hopeful eyes.
Moving of their own accord, my feet sense the vulnerability of a potential prey, the predator within, yet there’s a protective instinct that weaves its way through the hunger—a compulsion to shield instead of destroy. Every step feels deliberate, a dance between darkness and light as I navigate the space that separates us.
As our gazes collide, all at once, the world fades into oblivion. Piercing gray locks with vibrant blue, the silent exchange screaming louder than any words could ever hope to achieve. In this moment, it’s just her and me, and the weight of a future yet to unfold rests heavy in the air between us.
As I hold her gaze, I whisper, “Be careful, little doe, for the wolves here bite much harder than you can imagine.”
As I draw nearer, I walk silently on the polished marble floors with my boots. The crowd parts; they always do. Approaching her, I notice how the sea of bodies ripples with whispers and wary glances. Standing there, she is an anomaly in my world of guarded faces and hidden daggers. In a peculiar manner, my lips twitch into what looks like a smile, contrasting with the usual set of my jaw. It feels alien, this gentle curve of my mouth, but she summons it forth like a conjurer calling to light from darkness.
“Hey,” I say, the word a soft growl tethered by the leash of civility.
* * *
LILY
His voice is a low echo that resonates somewhere deep within me. Lifting my gaze, I trace the lines of his tall frame until I meet those eyes, a stormy gray that seems to see right through me. His smile doesn’t fit the hard lines of his face—it’s like watching a thundercloud part for a sliver of sunshine. My chest tightens, heart drumming a frantic beat as if it knows something I don’t.
In a hushed tone, I whisper back, my voice blending into the tapestry of sounds around us.
DAMIEN
As her voice trembles, it finds its way through my defenses, stirring something primal inside me. She’s hesitation incarnate, a fawn amidst the snarls of the forest, and I’m struck by the sudden urge to stand in front of her—to shield her from the predators that lurk in the shadows of these hallowed halls.
“New here?” I ask, tilting my head ever, intrigued by the play of emotions across her delicate features.
LILY
Is it so obvious?” I quip, surprised by the humor that finds its way past the nervous flutter in my stomach. There’s an intensity to him that both alarms and captivates me, a magnetic pull that I’m not sure I should indulge. Yet here I am, drawn to the edge of his orbit, teetering on the cusp of a danger I can’t quite comprehend.
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 c uriosity 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.
“Are you alright?” she asks, pulling me from my reverie, her voice a melody that somehow softens the stark stone around us.
Lying, I force myself to say, “Fine,” even though I feel like I’m being torn apart by a conflict. She deserves someone untainted, not a man mired in darkness, yet here I am, drawn to her light like a moth to flame.
“Damien?” Her hand brushes mine, tentative, questioning.
“Let’s get you to your class.” My voice is gruff, an attempt to build the walls back up, but they’re crumbling faster than I can repair them.
LILY
Though his touch is fleeting, it sears into my skin, leaving a trail of heat that I’m powerless to ignore. There’s something about Damien Blackwood, something more than the rumors and whispers that shadow his every step. He’s the enigma of the academy, a puzzle I want to solve, even if it means getting lost in the labyrinth.
We come to a stop outside my classroom, and I feel the loss of his presence like a physical blow. As I turn to face him, his gray eyes reveal a storm, a tempest suppressed solely by his sheer willpower. It’s there, in his gaze, the unspoken words we’re both afraid to voice.
“Thank you,” I murmur, my heart thumping against my ribcage. “For helping me.”
“Anytime, Lily.” His reply is audible, a whisper of sound that carries more weight than any shout.
With our eyes locked, the world tilts on its axis. It’s a moment suspended in time, an understanding that passes between us without need for words. Danger lurks in the depths of his stare, warn the forbidden fruit that dangles within reach.
And yet, I can’t help but wonder what it would taste like.
As soon as a bell rings, breaking the spell, students spill into the hallway, their voices buzzing and filling the void. But even as I turn away to enter my class, the electricity that hummed in the air lingers, a promise—or perhaps a threat—of what is yet to come.
* * *
DAMIEN
The air shivers with tension as I watch Lily disappear into the classroom, her golden hair catching the light like a beacon of purity in this den of vipers. Turning on my heel, I head back through the now-crowded halls, each step deliberate. As students part for me, their whispers slither behind my back, serving as a constant reminder of the power I wield here.
A new transfer student, bulky with misplaced confidence, bumps into me, testing boundaries and seeking to establish his own foothold. I don’t even blink.
“Watch where you’re going,” he sneers, locking eyes with mine, challenging.
“Watch whom you challenge,” I retort, my voice low and even. A murmur ripples through the bystanders; they sense a storm brewing.
“Or what, Blackwood?” He squares his shoulders, oblivious to the danger.
Saying this with a stiff smile playing on my lips, I warn, “Or you’ll learn why they part ways.”
For a moment, he falters, sensing the predator in me. Then, with a huff, he backs down, melting away into the crowd that’s hungry for drama but finds none today.
Retreating, a flicker of my past claws its way up my throat—the taste of iron in my mouth, the sting of fists, the jeers from an unforgiving father. The memories are like shards of glass, tearing at my insides, reminding me of the darkness I come from and the control I must maintain to not become that which I despise.
* * *
LILY
The teacher’s voice drones on, but my thoughts are fixated on Damien’s compelling gaze, leaving me unable to focus on the task at hand. My focus wavers as emotions overwhelm me, dulling my senses—until a sharp nudge from behind snaps me back to the present.
“Hey, newbie,” a snide voice cuts through my reverie. “You’re in my seat.”
As I turn, I am faced with a girl whose eyes are like steel traps and lips twisted in a sneer. My heart stutters, but I find my voice. “I… I didn’t know,” I say, gathering my things.
“Make sure it doesn’t happen again,” she snaps, claiming the spot as I move to an empty seat by the window.
With sweaty palms and a racing pulse, the encounter leaves me. It’s clear that not all challenges will come from understanding the curriculum or navigating the halls. There are wolves among us dressed as students, and I am walking among them, unguarded, unprotected.
