The Archive of the Damned

The crack in the porcelain perfection appeared on a Tuesday.

Julian had been summoned to the Headmaster’s office for a Prefect meeting. He had left Elliot with strict instructions: "Stay in the room. Polish my boots. Do not open the door."

But Elliot had finished the boots. And he was bored.

A strange, unfamiliar urge to stretch his legs took hold. The hallway was quiet. The Library was just two doors down. Surely, five minutes wouldn't hurt?

Elliot slipped out. The air in the hallway felt colder without Julian’s heat beside him. He scurried into the library, a massive, vaulted room filled with books that contained the records of every soul that had passed through St. Jude’s.

He didn't know what he was looking for. Perhaps his own file? To remember who he was?

He found a shelf labeled **YEARBOOKS**.

He pulled down the most recent one. He flipped through the grey, grainy photos of miserable souls. There he was: *Elliot Vance. Arrival: Unknown.*

Curiosity pricked him. He pulled down a volume from fifty years ago. *Class of 1970.*

He flipped through the pages.

He froze.

There, in the section for Dorm 214, was a photo. Two young men. One was a terrified-looking boy with glasses. The other was tall, handsome, with a sharp jawline and piercing eyes.

* Prefect Julian.*

Elliot’s breath hitched. He pulled down another. *1920.*

Prefect Julian. Standing next to a different roommate, a boy who looked exhausted and thin.

* 1850.*

Prefect Julian.

* 1790.*

Prefect Julian.

The photos stretched back centuries. In every single one, Julian looked exactly the same—young, vibrant, powerful. But his roommates...

Elliot looked closer at the roommates in the photos. In the early pictures of each year, they looked normal. But in the later pictures? They looked hollow. Their eyes were dark pits. Their skin was translucent. They looked like husks.

"He's not a student," Elliot whispered to the dust motes.

A realization, cold and slimy, coiled in his gut. Julian wasn't staying here because he hadn't graduated. He was staying here because he was *feeding*.

He wasn't protecting Elliot from the Shadows. He was fattening him up. He was consuming Elliot’s will, his spark, his very identity, slowly siphoning it off to maintain his own immortality in the Gray Realm.

"Elliot."

The voice came from the stacks behind him. It wasn't loud. It was soft, disappointed, and terrifying.

Elliot turned. Julian stood at the end of the aisle. He wasn't smiling.

"I told you," Julian said, taking a step forward, "not to leave the room."