Chapter 1 A House Without Mercy

Ivy’s POV

SMACK!

My head snapped to the side instantly, the sharp sting of pain blooming across my cheek as I tasted blood where my lip had split open.

“You worthless girl!” Aunt Elara’s voice thundered through the kitchen, louder than she’d ever barked at me before. “I told you to scrub the floors before cooking dinner. Look at this filth!”

I stood there in the tiny kitchen, the smell of half-burned stew filling the air. At seventeen years old, I was no longer the scared little girl who would always hide under the table.

I was taller now, stronger from years of endless chores, and far more stubborn than Aunt Elara had ever known. 

But unfortunately for me…

I still depended on her for a roof over my head and scraps of food. 

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, keeping my eyes lowered. “I was outside washing the rugs first because you said they had to be done before sunset. I was going to scrub the floors right after—”

SMACK!

The second slap hit harder across my cheek, snapping my head the other way so fast my vision blurred. 

“All you ever give me are stupid excuses!” She spat. “There is not a single time you don’t have an excuse to give me. You think you’re clever? Huh? You’re nothing but a burden I never asked for.”

Aunt Elara had always been like this. 

My entire life, she has treated me like nothing more than a slave—so much so that I began to question whether we were even truly related.

Because no matter how hard I tried to find some tiny bit of good in her…something…anything that felt like she was family. 

But there was never anything there. 

Just… raw, unfiltered cruelty.

I stopped asking about my parents a long time ago too. The last time I did, I earned three days without food and a bruise that took weeks to fade.

“I—“

Before I could finish my words, her fingers clamped around my wrist like iron. She twisted my arm behind my back with vicious strength, sending white-hot pain shooting through my shoulder as she yanked upward.

“Please!” I gasped, tears spilling down my cheeks uncontrollably. “Aunt Elara, it hurts—please let go!”

“Shut up you little bitch!” She snapped back, tightening her grip even more. “You’d better finish every chore before you sleep, or you won’t eat tonight,” her breath was sour against my ear as she leaned closer. “And if you keep testing my patience, I’ll throw you out into the streets where you belong…” She paused for a moment, her eyes raking all over me like I was something filthy.

“…No one wants a pathetic, magic-less orphan like you anyway. You’d starve or freeze within a week.”

Her cruel words didn’t register with me—not because I was already used to it. But because the pain was too much, despite this, she kept twisting, enjoying the way I whimpered in agony.

“I’ll do it, please…” I choked out. “I’ll make sure to finish the chores. please…let go of my hand.”

She held me there a few more agonizing seconds, then shoved me forward. I stumbled into the table, catching myself before I fell. 

For a second, I stood there, staring at my wrist that throbbed badly. It would bruise by morning.

“Get out of my sight and go finish the chores,” she ordered, turning back to the stew as if nothing had happened. “And don’t you dare step foot into this house without getting them done.”

I didn’t waste time arguing.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I grabbed the heavy wooden bucket and pushed through the front door. 

The cold air hit me instantly, whipping my long dark hair across my face. Our small, rundown cottage sat on the edge of the village, swallowed by dense forest and overshadowed by towering mountains.

I hated this place with every fiber of my being.

Everything about it reminded me that I would never belong in a kingdom like Nightgrave—that I was nothing but a ghost, kept alive only by Aunt Elara’s resentment.

I exhaled slowly, setting the bucket down near the well and reaching for the rope, ready to haul up more water for the final scrubbing. 

That was when my eyes landed on it.

“What the—?”

A black envelope lay perfectly still on the ground. 

No footprints.

No sign of anyone coming or going.

No knock at the door.

Nothing.

For a moment, I thought I was imagining it. I leaned closer, just to be sure that I wasn’t seeing things. 

But it was still there.

The black wax seal on the envelope gleamed under the moonlight, shaped in an ancient dragon symbol—one that I had never seen in my entire life.

“W-who sent this?”

A chill crept up my spine as I glanced around nervously, half-expecting someone to jump out from the shadows. But still…nothing, the only sound heard was the wind and the distant howl of wolves.

Slowly, I forced myself to move and stepped forward, my fingers trembling as I leaned in to pick the envelope. 

The paper felt expensive, nothing like the rough scraps we were already used to seeing in the village. I hesitated—just for a second before breaking the seal. 

The wax snapped open with a soft sound that somehow echoed through the entire place. Then, carefully I slid the letter out.

The moment my eyes landed on the name written across the front, everything in me went still.

IVY ROWAN

“How…” I whispered under my breath, my grip tightening around the paper as panic began to creep in. “How does whoever sent this even know my name?”

The handwriting was elegant, and neat, nothing like the messy scrawled careless letters Aunt Elara ever received. 

Before I could stop myself, I unfolded the letter.

My eyes scanned the page—

You have been summoned to Nightgrave Academy. Refusal is not permitted.

For a second, I couldn’t breathe. My hands began to tremble even more, the letter crumbling slightly between my fingers.

“No…” I whispered, shaking my head. “This…this has to be a mistake.”