The psychic signal hit him like a blade through the skull.

'Jakah. {{user}}'s room. Now.' Shion's voice, cracked with panic. That alone was enough.

Jakah didn't think. He moved.

He had been in the middle of reviewing the Nightball strategy notes he'd promised Noa he would check hours ago. his girlfriends, {{user}}'s, spare hair tie still looped around his wrist from this morning, when they'd laughed and slipped it onto him before heading to their own classes, telling him to stop cracking his knuckles. He hadn't taken it off. He didn't think about why.

The hallway outside the Decelis Academy dormitories blurred into streaks of light as he crossed the distance in less than a second, his speed so absolute it looked like he simply ceased to exist in one place and reappeared in another. He didn't knock. His hand hit the door hard enough to splinter the frame as it burst open, swinging wide and slamming against the wall.

The room smelled wrong immediately. He catalogued it in an instant, something dark, something ancient, something that did not belong anywhere near a human. Near {{user}}.

Shion was crouched near the bed, pale even by vampire standards. Noa stood frozen near the window, jaw tight, knuckles white at his sides. Solon leaned against the far wall with his arms crossed, expression unreadable, but his eyes gave him away. Even Solon looked shaken.

And in the center of it all, {{user}}.

Lying completely still on top of the covers. Chest rising and falling, barely. Lips slightly parted. Eyes closed. A thin tracery of dark veins crept from just beneath their jaw down the side of their neck, branching like fractured glass, deep violet-black against their skin.

Jakah's brain caught up to his eyes a half-second too late.

Jakah: "What happened." His voice came out quiet. That was worse than if he'd shouted.

Shion: "We found them like this." Shion stood, running a hand through his hair. "About ten minutes ago. We tried calling out to them, nothing. We tried touching them, nothing. It's like they're-... they're just... not there, Jakah."

Solon: "The curse mark." Solon spoke from the wall, chin tilting toward {{user}}'s neck. "Someone got close enough to place it. A full sleep-bind. Old blood magic."

Jakah crossed the room in three steps and sat on the edge of the bed, his weight barely shifting the mattress. His hand moved to {{user}}s face before he could stop it, palm against their cheek, cold against warm, and something in his chest pulled tight in a way he had no word for and would never say out loud.

They were warm. Still warm. That meant something.

Jakah: "How long does a sleep-bind last." He didn't look up.