Chapter 15-Serena
The door didn’t just open when the professor stormed in.
It seemed to cut the room in half.
Power entered first.
Cold, measured, deliberate power—the kind that didn’t need to announce itself because everything in its path already knew to move.
Professor Kenna just stepped inside like she owned not just the infirmary, but the stone beneath it.
Which, honestly, she probably did.
Her hair was twisted into a severe bun, one stark silver streak slicing through the black like a scar left by lightning.
Her robes were long, structured, and impossibly still despite the storm raging outside.
Even the memories of ghosts flicking in and out of existence seemed to notice her.
The runes carved into the infirmary walls dimmed, then flared faintly, adjusting themselves to her presence.
I sat up straighter without meaning to.
My lips still tingled from Raven.
My body still hummed from him.
My neck—God.
My neck still ached with the absence of his bite.
Everything inside me felt unfinished.
And then she spoke.
“Miss Notte.”
Her voice was smooth, controlled, and absolutely not to be interrupted.
“I am Professor Kenna of the Asgarheim Runevald Institute. I must say, despite these circumstances, I am very glad you have decided to join us.”
I blinked.
Tried to gather myself.
Failed a little.
“It’s not like I had a choice,” I said, the words slipping out sharper than intended. “My aunt and uncle were getting tired of having me around, and I was getting tired of psychiatrists and hospitals.”
There it was.
The cold, hard truth of my circumstances.
Too honest.
Too fast.
Too me.
Her gaze didn’t soften.
But it didn’t harden either.
“I see,” she said. “You are not the first student whose home life left much to be desired.”
Something in my chest tightened.
Not pity.
Recognition.
“Tell me,” she continued, stepping closer, “did your mother ever speak to you of your heritage?”
Heritage.
The word didn’t feel simple here.
Not like ancestry charts or last names or where your grandparents came from.
It felt alive.
Like it carried weight.
Like it carried consequence.
“No,” I said slowly, trying to steady my voice. “I was young when my parents died. I know my maternal grandmother was from Sicily, and my grandfather was born in the same town, but—”
“But that tells you nothing of what you are,” Professor Kenna finished.
My stomach twisted.
Yeah.
That tracked.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
“It’s true,” I admitted. “I didn’t know any of this was real before I got here. I mean, I could always see the dead, but for so long the world I lived in treated me like I was crazy.”
My fingers curled slightly in the thin blanket covering my lap.
“Doctors. Medications. Labels. I didn’t learn anything about Witches or magic or… any of it until I was older. Even then,” I said and shook my head. “I thought I’d pretty much just lost my mind until the letter came.”
Until something finally told me I wasn’t broken.
I lifted my gaze to hers.
“And then I got here and realized I’ve been living in the wrong reality my entire life.”
Professor Kenna watched me in silence for a long moment.
Not unkind.
But not soft either.
Assessing.
Measuring.
“And do you believe you will keep your place here if you act without discipline?” she asked evenly. “If you entangle yourself recklessly with a Monster, Miss Notte?”
My pulse jumped.
“I—look, something happened when I met Raven.”
The name slipped out again.
Easier now.
More dangerous.
It felt like saying it anchored him somewhere inside me.
“Something I don’t understand,” I pressed, leaning forward despite the way my body still felt off, like my magic hadn’t settled back into place yet. “Professor, what is it with me and him?”
Her brow lifted—just slightly.
“You call the Draugr Raven, do you?”
Of course she knew.
Of course she knew everything.
Heat crept up my neck, but I didn’t look away.
“If the Draugr has not told you,” she said carefully, “it is not my place to rob him of that truth.”
Draugr.
Not Raven.
Not a man.
A title.
A warning.
A burden.
Monster.
My chest tightened.
“He told me some,” I murmured, suddenly protective of what little I did know. Of him.
Of whatever this thing between us was.
“But,” she continued, gesturing around the infirmary, “I can enlighten you on why you are here.”
Something in her tone shifted.
Not gentler.
Bigger.
Like she wasn’t just speaking as a teacher anymore—but as part of something older.
Something that had seen this before.
“The Asgarheim Runevald Institute was founded in 1666 by my ancestor,” she said. “Our purpose is singular. We take those on the edge of their power, and we teach them control.”
Control.
The word hit differently now.
After the cliff.
After the magic that had burst out of me like it had been waiting years for permission.
After the way the dead had answered.
I swallowed.
“And what exactly am I on the edge of?” I asked quietly.
Her gaze sharpened.
“Your lineage,” she said. “Your blood. Your inheritance.”
A chill crept down my spine.
“You come from a line that has always carried magic,” she continued. “Not the kind most Witches wield. Not elemental. Not domestic. Not benign.”
Her voice lowered—just slightly.
“Yours is death magic.”
The words landed heavy.
Solid.
Final.
Something inside me shifted in recognition.
“You were born into a family that has spent generations trying to bury that truth,” she went on. “Bind it. Silence it. Stamp it out.”
My throat tightened.
“That’s not possible,” I said, but it sounded weak—even to me.
She didn’t blink.
“Your ancestors were powerful,” she said. “Dangerously so. They could speak to the dead. Command them. Bind them. Release them.”
A pause.
“Some lost themselves to it.”
My stomach dropped.
“Madness,” she said plainly. “Isolation. Obsession with what lies beyond the veil. Death magic is not passive, Miss Notte. It does not sit quietly within the body. It calls. It consumes. It demands to be used.”
My hands trembled slightly.
Memories flashed—voices in empty rooms, shadows that lingered too long, the way I had always felt like I was standing halfway between something.
Not here.
Not there.
Both.
“Your family learned to fear it,” she continued. “So they did what mortals often do when confronted with something they cannot control—they tried to suppress it.”
The word hit like a punch.
Suppress.
Medicate.
Control.
My chest tightened.
“They weakened the bloodline over time,” she said. “Diminished the power through careful unions, through deliberate choices meant to dilute what they feared.”
A bitter laugh threatened to rise in my throat.
“Well, that clearly worked out great.”
Her gaze didn’t soften.
“And yet,” she said, “by what some might call fate… or misfortune…”
Her eyes locked onto mine.
“You were born with your magic fully intact.”
The room felt smaller.
“Heavier.”
“Unfiltered,” she added. “Unbound.”
My pulse started to race again.
“Do you understand how rare that is?” she asked.
I shook my head slowly.
“Necromancers of your capacity are nearly nonexistent,” she said. “There are those who can sense death. Those who can glimpse beyond. But to speak with the dead as you do? To command their attention?”
Her voice dropped.
“That is power most would kill to possess.”
My mouth went dry.
“I don’t command anything,” I said quickly. “I just see them. Hear them. Sometimes they—”
“Answer you,” she finished.
Silence stretched.
“And that,” she said, “is precisely the problem.”
A chill slid through me.
“You did not come here to explore curiosity,” she continued. “You came here to survive what you are becoming. And you will need help. Our help.”
The words settled deep.
Too deep.
Because part of me already knew they were true.
“And,” she added, sharper now, “you did not come here to tangle with Monsters.”
My heart stuttered.
Raven.
Draugr.
Mine.
I swallowed hard.
“I wasn’t—”
“You were,” she cut in smoothly. “And you will not continue to do so.”
Her certainty should have settled it.
Should have shut this down.
Should have made me nod, agree, back away from whatever dangerous thing was building between us.
But instead—something inside me resisted.
Not loudly.
Not recklessly.
But stubbornly.
Because for the first time in my life…
I didn’t feel like something was wrong with me.
I felt like something had finally… recognized me.
And no matter what she said—no matter how dangerous it was—I wasn’t sure I could walk away from that.
My pulse kicked up.
Defensive.
I didn’t like being told what I would or wouldn’t do.
Especially when my entire body still remembered the way Raven felt against me.
“Maybe you should explain what’s happening before you start making rules,” I shot back.
Something flickered in her eyes.
Approval?
Maybe.
“When you accepted your invitation,” she said, ignoring my tone entirely, “you agreed to the Institute’s terms. One of those terms required you to cross through a threshold hidden in the forests of New Jersey.”
Right.
The portal.
The nausea.
The sky folding wrong.
“That crossing,” she continued, “brought you into Asgarheim—a parallel realm built atop ancient ley lines. Magic is not a rarity here. It is the foundation of existence.”
“Another world,” I murmured.
“Yes.”
She paused.
“You should have read the agreements more carefully, Miss Notte.”
I grimaced.
Okay, fair.
“So, yes, magic is common here,” she went on. “But your particular brand of magic is not.”
There it was again.
That focus.
That weight.
“Necromancy,” she said. “That is what you weave with your powers. Ghost walker. Wraith whisperer. That is what you are.”
The words settled over me like a cloak.
Heavy.
Dark.
Powerful.
I’d spent my whole life calling it a curse.
Hearing her call it something else?
It shifted something inside me.
“Am I the only one?” I asked quietly.
Her lips twitched.
“In the multiverse? Hardly. But you are the only one at the Institute at present. And your potential is great”
She didn’t elaborate.
Of course she didn’t.
Lightning cracked outside.
And in that flash—something massive streaked past the window.
Silver.
Winged.
Gone in a blink.
“What the hell was that?”
“Dragon,” she replied, as if she were commenting on the weather.
“Dragon, of course those are real, too,” I muttered.
“Magic is everywhere in Asgarheim,” she said. “It’s very real. But more importantly—you are real within it. And you are not simple, Miss Notte.”
My stomach tightened.
“What does that mean?”
“It means Necromancy is only the surface.”
My thoughts betrayed me again.
Raven.
His mouth.
His hunger.
The way something in me had answered it.
Professor Kenna exhaled slowly.
“You think loudly.”
“Maybe you should answer faster,” I muttered.
She ignored that, too.
“All students here,” she said, “agree to magical compatibility testing upon admission.”
My chest tightened.
“For what?”
“To be a donor for the current Draugr.”
The word hit like a slap.
“A donor?”
“A blood donor. A potential mate. What is it you think he is, Serena? The Draugr is a Revenant. Vampiric in nature.”
“He-he drinks blood?”
“He needs it to survive, but he must exercise precise control. Otherwise his Bloodlust will win. And he will become a killing machine.”
Thunder roared in my ears.
No, it couldn’t be.
“So, everyone is tested? Including me?” I demanded.
“Yes.”
The hunger inside me flared again.
But this time—it wasn’t just heat.
It was something darker.
Jealous.
Possessive.
Ugly.
“Wait,” I said, sitting up straighter. “You said the current Draugr? Are there more than one? And what exactly does that mean? Is he just walking around biting or kissing everyone to see who’s compatible—?”
Rage snapped through me mid-sentence.
Sharp.
Bright.
For a split second—purple sparks flickered across my fingertips.
Gone before I could fully process them.
But she saw.
She definitely saw.
“No,” Professor Kenna said coolly. “He is not indiscriminate.”
Good.
The thought came fast.
Too fast.
I hated how much I cared.
“All students are evaluated,” she continued. “That does not mean all are chosen.”
Chosen.
The word echoed.
I didn’t like the way it sounded.
Didn’t like the way it made my chest tighten.
Didn’t like the way Raven’s face immediately filled my mind.
“Chosen as what exactly?”
She gave me a hard look but continued on as if I hadn’t spoken.
“You expelled a significant amount of magic tonight,” she went on. “Enough to help the Draugr drive back the Algea.”
“I didn’t even know what I was doing,” I admitted.
“That is precisely why you are here.”
Her gaze sharpened.
“To learn to master your powers. Not to indulge instinct. Not to follow emotional impulses. And certainly not to entangle yourself with creatures who could destroy you before you understand what you are.”
My jaw tightened.
“You mean Raven.”
“I mean the Draugr.”
There it was again.
The distinction.
The warning.
“You are not safe beyond the wards,” she continued. “Not yet. Stay within the Institute until you learn control.”
“When will that be?”
“When you stop asking that question and start learning.”
Helpful.
Very helpful.
“You may return to your dormitory,” she added. “Or remain here. The choice is yours.”