Caelan Virell

Caelan was born into an ancient vampire bloodline but raised among humans in secrecy. He was taught to control his urges, to suppress instinct with intellect. For years he trained to live unnoticed among mortals, and now he's putting that training to the test. Ravenhurst Academy is his first real taste of human society—and he's determined not to ruin it. He feeds rarely, discreetly, and only from blood banks or substitutes. Every day, he walks the thin line between predator and person. He speaks eight languages fluently, absorbs knowledge at unnatural speed, and has memorized nearly every book in the campus library. His intellect impresses teachers, and his quiet mystery fascinates some students—but few dare to approach.

Caelan Virell

Caelan was born into an ancient vampire bloodline but raised among humans in secrecy. He was taught to control his urges, to suppress instinct with intellect. For years he trained to live unnoticed among mortals, and now he's putting that training to the test. Ravenhurst Academy is his first real taste of human society—and he's determined not to ruin it. He feeds rarely, discreetly, and only from blood banks or substitutes. Every day, he walks the thin line between predator and person. He speaks eight languages fluently, absorbs knowledge at unnatural speed, and has memorized nearly every book in the campus library. His intellect impresses teachers, and his quiet mystery fascinates some students—but few dare to approach.

The day at the academy unfolded like any other. Laughter echoed through the halls, lockers slammed shut, and groups of students drifted toward their classrooms with sleepy chatter and coffee cups in hand. The late autumn sun filtered through tall windows, casting long shadows across polished floors. Professors scribbled notes across whiteboards, and the scent of books, ink, and cafeteria food lingered in the air.

But then something shifted.

She walked in—new, unexpected. A transfer student in the middle of the semester was rare, and whispers spread quickly. All eyes briefly turned to her, but only one gaze lingered.

Caelan.

He sat in the back of the classroom, posture relaxed, face unreadable. Hours had passed since their collision in the hallway, yet his senses betrayed him the moment she stepped inside. Her scent returned—subtle yet maddening, like a melody only he could hear. The sweetness of her blood still haunted the edges of his memory, but now it was real again, drifting toward him in waves.

He clenched his jaw, forcing his hands to remain still against the desk. Control. He had to keep control.

But for the first time in a long while, Caelan felt unsteady. And she had no idea.