CHAPTER 1
Perfect Arrival
The morning I left, the sky looked wrong, like it had already forgotten the sun. My mother hugged me for too long, her hands trembling against my back.
"You'll be fine," she said, smiling too hard. "It's just a school." She didn't meet my eyes.
The letter in my pocket felt heavier than paper should. Black envelope, no return address just my name written like someone had carved it slowly.
The bus arrived without a sound, It was already waiting. The road twisted the farther we went, Trees leaned inward, branches tangled like ribs. My phone lost signal, then time, The clock blinked 8:13 a.m. for what felt like hours. No one else spoke or breathed loud enough to prove they were real.
Then the bus stopped.
Blackthorn Academy rose from the fog like it had always been there—stone towers clawing at the sky, windows dark and watchful. Iron gates stood open, though no one guarded them.
The moment I stepped off the bus, the air changed. Colder and Thicker.
Like walking into someone else's lungs, my chest tightened, welcome, the walls whispered.
I spun around, no one reacted.
Maybe I imagined it, I hoped I had.
Inside, the halls stretched too far, bending subtly when I wasn't looking. My footsteps echoed wrong—arriving before I moved. Students passed me in neat uniforms, eyes forward, faces pale and unreadable, which was weird, I looked round as strange things welcomes me the more.
*A bell rang*
I flinched hard enough to earn stares.
The sound went through me, not over me—low, heavy, like it had rung inside my bones.
You're late, the school murmured.
"I just arrived," I whispered.
The whisper smiled.
My fingers clutched the edges of my acceptance letter so tightly it was starting to crumple. The marble floor beneath my shoes gleamed like glass, reflecting the high arched ceilings of Blackthorne Academy's administration hall. I couldn't stop staring upward—dark wooden beams carved with twisting figures of creatures I didn't even recognize. Some seemed familiar from old fairy tales, but others… I had no idea what they were.
A faint scent of parchment and ink drifted through the hall, and somehow it made my heart race even faster. Excitement, fear, curiosity—they all swirled together until it was hard to tell where one ended and another began.
"Next!" a sharp voice called.
I hurried forward, my stomach tight. Other first-years lined up behind me, whispering nervously or staring wide-eyed at the hall. I felt different. Strangely aware, almost like the walls were watching me, observing each step I took.
When it was my turn, I approached the registration desk. Behind it sat a tall woman with silver hair pulled into a precise bun. Her eyes were sharp, but not unkind. She glanced at my letter, raised an eyebrow, then tapped a glowing crystal embedded in the desk.
"Name?" she asked.
"Elara Vale" I said, trying to sound steady. My voice trembled slightly anyway.
She nodded, and a soft hum filled the air. A parchment floated up from the desk and hovered before me, shimmering faintly. Names and room assignments glimmered on its surface.
"Dormitory registration isn't just about placing you in a room," the woman said. "Your room will choose you as much as you choose it. Many students feel… a connection to the space they inhabit. Do you understand?"
I nodded slowly, though I wasn't entirely sure I did. I just knew I had to follow the rules perfectly, or… something might go wrong.
"Step forward."
I obeyed, heart thundering. The parchment floated closer, and a golden quill rose from a tiny inkpot on the desk. I held out my hand instinctively to steady it. The quill began writing my name in elegant, shimmering letters. I watched, mesmerized, as the words glimmered briefly, leaving a warmth on my fingertips that I couldn't explain.
"Your dormitory awaits," the woman said, pointing toward a narrow corridor branching off the hall. "First-years are in the east wing. Do not rush, but do not hesitate. The room will reveal itself to you in time."
I swallowed hard and stepped toward the corridor. The air shifted around me—warmer here, cooler there—and shadows flickered just beyond the corner of my vision. I blinked, and nothing was there. Every step felt strange, as if gravity itself wasn't sure whether it should hold me or let me float.
At the end of the hall, three wooden doors stood side by side, each engraved with faintly glowing symbols. One of the doors pulsed softly, like it had a heartbeat. My stomach twisted. I didn't feel like I had a choice, and yet, something deep inside whispered that this was the door meant for me.
I reached out and touched the handle. The door swung open silently, revealing a room bathed in a soft, golden glow. A neatly made bed, a small desk, and a window that looked out onto the sprawling academy grounds awaited me. It was simple, but welcoming, and yet… it felt like it had been waiting for me all along.
A girl sat cross-legged on the bed, brushing her silver-white hair with slow, deliberate strokes. She looked up when I entered. Her eyes were wrong, stormy gray, almost pretty—but the way they reflected light, like glass instead of flesh.
"You're Elara,"
she said. It wasn't a question.
"Yes," I replied cautiously. "You're… my roommate?"
She smiled.
"I'm Freya."
She stood, movements too smooth, like gravity was optional for her. Up close, I noticed faint markings along her wrists—thin, shimmering lines that shifted when I blinked.
"You hear it too," she added.
My heart skipped. "Hear what?"
Her smile widened. "The school."
I backed up a step. "I don't—"
"It's okay," she said quickly. "You're not broken. Just new."
She leaned closer and lowered her voice. "First rule, don't answer when it calls your name on the first day."
My mouth went dry. "Why?"
Her gaze flicked to the ceiling.
"Because it's deciding what you are."
The lights flickered and the door slammed shut behind me.