The morning sun streamed into the dorm room, casting long shadows over Raven's bed. She sat on the edge of her mattress, her gaze fixed on the faint raven-shaped mark on her wrist. It pulsed softly, as if alive, a reminder of the previous night's encounter near the Forbidden Hall.
"I don't get it," Raven muttered to herself. "Why me?"
"Because you've got a knack for sticking your nose where it doesn't belong," Elara quipped, stepping out of the adjoining bathroom with a towel slung over her shoulder.
Raven shot her a glare. "I didn't ask you to follow me, you know."
"Yeah, well, I didn't want to have to explain to the Headmistress why my roommate got swallowed by a cursed hallway," Elara retorted, sitting on her own bed. "What's the deal with that mark, anyway? It wasn't there before."
Raven hesitated. The truth was, she didn't know. She hadn't told Elara about the ghost's warning or the unsettling whispers in the hall. "It's nothing," she lied, pulling her sleeve down.
Elara frowned. "Raven, you're the worst liar I've ever met."
Raven stood abruptly, grabbing her satchel. "I'm going to the library."
"Of course you are," Elara said, rolling her eyes. "Because digging deeper into creepy, dangerous mysteries has worked out so well for you so far."
Ignoring her, Raven left the room.
The library was one of the oldest parts of Thornwood Academy, its towering shelves filled with ancient tomes and dusty scrolls. Raven walked through the aisles, the soft echo of her footsteps the only sound. She stopped in front of a section labeled Occult Studies.
"Let's see," she murmured, running her fingers along the spines of the books.
A title caught her eye: The Veil Between Worlds. She pulled the book off the shelf and flipped it open, scanning the pages.
"The Veil is a barrier that separates the living from the realm of the dead," she read aloud. "Few are marked by it, and those who are bear a heavy burden."
Her pulse quickened. The ghost had mentioned the Veil. Could her mark mean she was connected to it?
"Find what you're looking for?"
Raven jumped, nearly dropping the book. She turned to see a boy with unruly black hair and a mischievous grin leaning against a nearby shelf.
"What do you want, Corin?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Relax, I'm just curious." Corin stepped closer, his eyes flicking to the book in her hands. "Researching curses, are we?"
"It's none of your business," Raven snapped, closing the book.
"Touchy, aren't we?" Corin smirked. "You know, rumors are already flying about you. Something about the Forbidden Hall and a ghostly encounter?"
Raven stiffened. "You shouldn't believe everything you hear."
Corin raised an eyebrow. "Maybe not, but it's more fun when I do. Anyway, be careful poking around. Thornwood's secrets have a way of biting back."
Before she could respond, Corin turned and sauntered off, leaving her bristling with irritation.
Raven returned to her room, her thoughts a storm of questions and half-formed theories. Elara wasn't there, which was a small relief. She needed time to think.
She sat at her desk and opened the book again, flipping through the pages. One passage caught her attention:
"The mark of the Veil grants its bearer unique abilities, but these powers come at a cost. To harness them fully, the bearer must face their fears and uncover the truth of their connection to the Veil."
As if in response, the mark on her wrist flared with heat. Raven gasped, clutching her arm. The room seemed to tilt, and a wave of dizziness washed over her.
Suddenly, she wasn't in her room anymore.
The world around her was a swirling gray void, shadows shifting and twisting in unnatural ways. A figure emerged from the mist—a woman in tattered robes with pale, lifeless eyes.
"You again," Raven said, her voice steady despite the fear coiling in her stomach.
The ghost tilted her head. "You seek answers."
"Yeah, and I'd appreciate it if you stopped being cryptic for once," Raven retorted. "What is this mark? Why did I get it?"
The ghost's expression was unreadable. "The mark chooses its bearer. You are bound to the Veil now, whether you wish it or not."
"What does that even mean?" Raven demanded.
"It means the line between the living and the dead has blurred for you," the ghost replied. "You will see things others cannot. But beware—those who dwell beyond the Veil are not all benevolent."
Before Raven could ask more, the ghost began to fade, her voice echoing as she disappeared. "Beware the shadows, child. They hunger for the marked."
Raven jolted awake, her heart pounding. She was back in her room, the book still open in front of her. The mark on her wrist was glowing faintly, pulsing like a heartbeat.
"Great," she muttered. "Now I'm seeing things in my sleep."
The door burst open, and Elara rushed in, her face pale. "Raven, you need to see this."
"What is it now?"
"Just come on!" Elara grabbed her arm and dragged her down the hall.
They stopped in front of the main bulletin board, where a crowd of students had gathered. Elara elbowed her way through, pulling Raven with her.
Pinned to the center of the board was a note written in jagged, black letters:
To the Marked One: The Veil watches. The Forbidden Hall calls.
Raven's blood ran cold. She didn't need to ask who the note was for.
Elara turned to her, her eyes wide with fear. "Raven...what's going on?"
"I don't know," Raven whispered, though the lie tasted bitter on her tongue.
Later that night, Raven sat on her bed, staring at the note Elara had stolen from the board. The words seemed to writhe on the paper, as if alive.
"Okay," she muttered to herself. "You're in deep now."
She glanced at the mark on her wrist. It wasn't just a mark—it was a key. To what, she didn't know. But one thing was clear: the Forbidden Hall wasn't just calling her. It was waiting.
And Raven didn't know if she had the strength to resist.