Seraphina's POV
I ran.
Not toward the castle—away from it. Back toward the gates, back toward the path, back toward anything that wasn't whatever had just whispered in my ear from nowhere.
My bag hit the ground. I didn't stop for it. My hands found the iron bars and I shook them—hard, desperately, with every bit of strength I had. They didn't even rattle. They were solid as a wall, cold as death, and absolutely, completely, permanently closed.
"That won't help."
I screamed. Actually screamed—a short, sharp sound that vanished into the dark like the forest swallowed it.
A woman stood ten feet behind me. White hair, violet eyes, a long dark coat that moved around her like smoke. She was watching me with an expression that wasn't cold—but wasn't warm either. The way a doctor looks at a patient. Calm. Measuring.
"I am Headmaster Elara Moonshadow," she said. "And you are Seraphina Ashford. We've been waiting for you."
"Someone was in the roses," I said. My voice shook. I hated that it shook. "Something whispered—right next to my ear—"
"Yes." She didn't even look surprised. "You were noticed the moment you arrived. That happens with guests like you." She picked up my bag from the ground and held it out. "Come inside. You're safe for now."
For now. Wonderful.
I took my bag because what else could I do? The gates were locked. The car was gone. The forest beyond the iron bars was darker than anything I'd ever seen.
I followed her inside.
The inside of Moonveil was warm. That was the first thing—unexpected warmth, amber light, and the faint smell of candle wax and old books. The kind of smell that should have been comforting.
The second thing: the students.
They lined the entrance hall on both sides, and every single one of them was staring at me.
Not the way people stare when someone new walks in. This was different. This was the way you stare at something you're not sure you're allowed to touch. Their eyes tracked me the way a cat tracks a bird across a window—still, focused, patient.
They were beautiful. That was the terrifying part. Every face was too sharp, too perfect, too finished, like they'd been carved rather than born. And they were completely, utterly silent.
I kept my eyes forward and followed Elara.
She showed me to a room on the third floor—four-poster bed, deep red curtains, a window overlooking the rose garden. After four years of sleeping in the smallest room in Vivienne's house with a mattress that sagged in the middle, it felt absurd. Like a mistake meant for someone else.
"Sleep," Elara said from the doorway. "Classes begin at sunset."
"Sunset?" I turned around. "Why sunset?"
She smiled—that same doctor's smile. "You'll understand soon."
She left before I could ask anything else.
I didn't sleep well. Obviously.
But exhaustion won eventually, and when I finally opened my eyes, the sky outside my window was dark orange and dying. Sunset. I'd slept through the entire day.
A bell rang somewhere deep in the building. One long, low note that seemed to vibrate in my chest.
I washed my face, changed clothes, and followed the sound of movement through the halls—hundreds of students flowing toward a set of double doors, all of them moving with that same too-smooth, too-graceful stride that I'd noticed the night before. Like their feet barely touched the ground.
The dining hall was enormous. Long tables, crystal chandeliers, the kind of room that belonged in a palace. Students filled every seat.
I took the first empty chair I saw and looked around.
Nobody was eating. Not really. Plates of food sat in front of most of them—bread, fruit, things that looked normal—but nobody touched them. What they were drinking, from tall crystal glasses, was dark red.
Almost exactly the color of the envelope that had brought me here.
My stomach did something unpleasant.
"You're sitting in her seat."
I looked up. A girl had appeared beside me—silver hair so pale it was almost white, eyes the color of storm clouds, lips curved into something that was technically a smile but felt nothing like one.
"Sorry—" I started to stand.
"Don't be sorry." She sat across from me instead, folding her hands on the table, watching me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. "I'm not angry. I'm curious." She tilted her head. "You smell different."
"I— what?"
She leaned slightly forward, inhaling slowly. Deliberately. Like I was a meal she was thinking about ordering.
"Delicious," she said softly. "Warm. Human." Her storm-colored eyes met mine without blinking. "What exactly is a human doing at Moonveil Academy?"
The word landed like ice water.
Human. Said like it was a category. Like it was a thing she was separate from.
I looked at her face—the too-perfect skin, the too-still hands, the crystal glass sitting at her elbow, dark red liquid catching the light.
I looked around the room. Hundreds of students. Not one of them eating. All of them drinking red from crystal glasses.
All of them—now that I was really looking—completely, unnaturally still.
Human.
She'd said it like I was the unusual thing here.
My throat closed.
Vampires. I was sitting in the middle of a dining hall full of vampires, and I was the only heartbeat in the room.