CH- 1

Aria’s POV

"I shouldn’t be here."

The thought pounded through my mind like a warning, loud and insistent, as I stepped past the towering iron gates of Blackthorn Academy. The air was different here—colder, heavier, laced with something unseen yet unmistakably wrong. A chill brushed the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine as the castle loomed before me, its jagged spires piercing the overcast sky like sharpened fangs.

The school didn’t feel like a school. It felt like a trap.

I clutched the crumpled acceptance letter in my hand, my fingers pressing into the thick parchment as if holding onto it could somehow anchor me. I had never applied here. Never even heard of Blackthorn Academy before the letter arrived at my doorstep, sealed in wax and bearing no sender.

Yet, here I was.

Students moved through the courtyard, but there was something off about them. They were too beautiful, their features sculpted into perfection—sharp cheekbones, piercing eyes, flawless skin. But more than that, they carried themselves with an eerie stillness, gliding rather than walking, speaking in tones too soft to fully catch.

None of them seemed out of breath from carrying their luggage. None shuffled awkwardly or adjusted their clothes the way normal students would.

Instead, they watched me.

I swallowed hard, my pulse kicking up in my throat.

I didn’t belong here.

-----------------------

"Lost, little lamb?"

The voice was smooth, like silk stretched over steel, each word carefully measured, laced with something sharp.

I turned.

A girl stood a few feet away, leaning against a stone column with the kind of casual confidence that told me she was used to being in control. Her hair was pale as ice, straight and sleek, framing emerald-green eyes that gleamed with amusement. She looked effortlessly perfect in her tailored black blazer and pleated skirt, as if the uniform had been designed for her and her alone.

I parted my lips to respond, but she was already smirking.

"You must be new," she murmured, pushing off the column and strolling toward me. There was something almost lazy in the way she moved—predatory, unhurried, like a lion toying with its prey.

"That explains why you’re standing here looking like a fawn caught in the headlights," she continued, circling me as her green eyes flicked over my clothes, my bag, the way I gripped my acceptance letter. "Do you know where you're going, or should I help?"

The way she said help didn’t sound remotely helpful.

I squared my shoulders, forcing my voice to remain steady. "I’m fine, thanks."

Her smirk deepened. "We’ll see about that."

Then—she moved.

Not walked. Moved.

One second, she was in front of me. The next, she was suddenly at my side, so close I caught the scent of her—floral, laced with something metallic. Something... wrong.

I stiffened.

Her gaze flickered downward, and for a split second, her pupils swallowed the green, turning pitch-black.

And then—a flash of white.

Fangs.

My breath caught.

No. That had to be a trick of the light.

I took a step back, my pulse hammering against my ribs. "I should check in," I muttered, shifting my bag higher on my shoulder.

The blonde girl just laughed, soft and knowing. "You’ll learn soon enough, new girl."

And then she was gone.

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I shook off the encounter as I walked toward the main building, but I couldn’t ignore the way students still stared. Their eyes followed me, hushed whispers slipping between them like a secret being passed around.

Then—suddenly, they weren’t looking at me anymore.

The air shifted, thickening like a storm rolling in. Conversations died out. The soft buzz of chatter snapped into silence as all eyes turned toward the courtyard entrance.

I followed their gazes—and everything inside me went still.

A figure moved through the crowd, not rushing, not hesitating. Just walking, slow and deliberate, as if the entire world adjusted to his pace.

Even before he was close, I knew.

This wasn’t just anyone.

He was ruthlessly beautiful, the kind of beauty that didn’t belong in reality—midnight-black hair that fell in careless waves, silvery-gray eyes as cold and sharp as polished steel. His face was aristocratic and severe, every feature sculpted to command attention, demand submission.

And everyone obeyed.

Students stepped out of his way without a word, their gazes averted, their backs straightening instinctively.

The weight of his presence pressed against my skin, thick and suffocating.

And then—he was beside me.

He didn’t stop. Didn’t slow.

But for a single moment, he turned his head.

Our eyes met.

A rush of cold flooded my veins, a sensation like falling into frozen water, my lungs tightening from the sheer shock of it.

But just as quickly, he looked away.

Stepped past me.

Like I was nothing.

Like I was insignificant.

The tightness in my chest lingered, but I didn’t understand why.

Around me, whispers broke out once more.

"Lorien Duskbane."

The name slithered through the air like a warning.

Even though I had never heard it before... I knew it.

And something inside me whispered—this wouldn’t be the last time our paths crossed.

--------------------------------

The grand hall was bathed in shadow, its massive chandelier the only source of light, casting golden reflections onto the black marble floors.

I stood in front of Headmistress Selene Graves, a woman who did not look old enough to be a headmistress. Her beauty was unnatural, her raven-black hair and violet eyes giving her the air of something both ethereal and terrifying.

She studied me in silence, her gaze too knowing.

Finally, she leaned forward.

"You are here because someone wanted you to be," she said smoothly.

I hesitated. "I never applied."

"And yet," she murmured, "here you are."

Silence stretched between us, thick with something unsaid.

Then, she reached into her mahogany desk drawer and pulled out something small, folded, and blood-red.

A letter.

She slid it across the desk.

I hesitated before picking it up. The paper was thick, aged—almost waxy under my fingertips. When I turned it over, I saw something stamped into the wax seal.

A crescent moon, dripping with blood.

My stomach tightened. "What is this?"

The headmistress’s lips curved into a slow, deliberate smile.

"Your invitation to the Blood Moon Trials," she said.

"You either win… or you die."

My breath hitched. The letter in my hands suddenly felt heavier.

The room felt colder.

And for the first time since I arrived at Blackthorn Academy…

I realized I might not leave it alive.