Chapter 2 2

Layla's POV

By morning, I had decided the school was too cold, too neat, and too full of people who enjoyed knowing things before I did.

I was halfway through tying my hair back when there was a knock at the door.

I opened it to find Tahlia already grinning.

“You survive the night?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Barely.”

“Good. That means your room didn’t eat you.”

I grabbed my folder. “Not yet.”

She laughed and fell into step beside me as we walked toward orientation. “You’re late, by the way.”

“I know. I'm fully aware ma'am.”

“That tone says you blame the school.”

“I do.”

“Excellent. You’re fitting in already.”

Orientation was packed. First years. Transfers. A few older students pretending not to care. The room buzzed with that strange school energy where everyone is too aware of everyone else, and the people with money act like they were born with a timetable in their hand.

I sat beside Tahlia and tried to pay attention while the staff went through the rules.

That was when I heard the whisper behind me.

“Did they forget to check her birthday?”

I turned slightly.

Two girls in the row behind us were looking at me, then at each other.

Tahlia leaned close. “Don’t bother. They’ll be weird all morning.”

“What are they talking about?”

She hesitated. “Birthday myth.”

I frowned. “Birthday myth.”

“Yeah. Dumb old Blackwater thing. Students with the same birthday are bad luck. The school tries to vet it out before placement.”

I looked at her. “You’re joking.”

She gave me a dry look. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

“Why would that even matter?”

“Because people here love a reason to be dramatic. And, to be honest? It's a thing here in this academy that persons who share same birthday end up killing themselves.” She finished with a whisper.

“Is it real?" I asked.

Tahlia shrugged one shoulder. “Depends who you ask. The old families swear by it. The new office staffs mostly pretends it’s nonsense. But they still check.”

“Check what?”

“Birth dates, transfer files, that sort of thing.”

I looked back toward the front of the hall, and for the first time the stupid little feeling in my stomach had a shape. Not fear exactly. Something stranger. Like the school was taking inventory of people and deciding who was safe to keep.

The staff at the front were still talking, but my attention kept drifting until I felt it again.

That stare.

I looked up.

Callum Reid was sitting several rows away, not directly beside anyone, not laughing, not chatting. Just there, watching the room with that same quiet, concentrated stillness that made me want to tell him to blink and mind his business.

Tahlia followed my gaze and made a face. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“The staring thing.”

“I am not staring.”

“You absolutely are.”

I lowered my voice. “He keeps looking at me.”

“Mm-hm.”

“That sounded far too unbothered.” I half yelled at her.

“It’s not my first week at Blackwater Hall,” she responded with a shrug.

“A lot of things here are weird. A lot of things here are worse than weird.”

I turned back toward the Callum guy again and caught him looking in my direction again. He did not look away quickly this time.

That made my spine tighten.

The briefing ended and everyone moved out at once. The school’s media office was my next stop, and Tahlia came with me because apparently she had decided I was not allowed to wander without a witness.

The media office was all glass, clipboards, wall boards, and pinned notices. The woman behind the desk handed me a stack of forms and an access card without any warmth at all.

“You’ll attend reporting and campus observation sessions,” she said. “You’ll also assist with student events.”

“Student events,” I repeated.

“Yes.”

“Like what?”

“House functions. Sports. Academy notices.”

I held up the card. “You really trust a transfer student with all that?”

She looked at me over her glasses. “We don’t trust anyone with anything. You’ll learn.”

Tahlia pressed a hand to her mouth like she was trying not to laugh.

Then a voice from the doorway cut in, low and calm.

“Byrne.”

I looked up.

Callum stood there, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his own papers. He looked as if he had chosen the doorway on purpose, which annoyed me more than it should have.

“You keep popping up,” I said before I could stop myself.

One corner of his mouth moved, but not quite into a smile. “You keep being where you shouldn’t be.”

Tahlia made a sound like she was watching a show.

I ignored her. “Is that your idea of small talk?”

“It’s not small talk.”

“Then what is it?”

His gaze stayed on mine. “A warning.”

The room felt quieter around us, though it was probably just my temper focusing too hard.

I crossed my arms. “I don’t take warnings from strangers.”

“Then you’re going to have a difficult week.”

“I’ve already had a difficult week.”

His eyes held mine a second too long, and when he spoke again, his voice dropped low enough that it felt meant only for me.

“You’re in the wrong building after dark.”

I frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means exactly what it sounds like.”

“That is not an answer.”

“It is the only one you get right now.”

Before I could snap back, the woman behind the desk called my name for the next form. The moment broke. The Callum guy moved off without looking rushed, and I hated how that somehow made him more irritating than if he had bothered to linger.

Tahlia looked delighted. “Interesting.”

“Don’t start.”

“I wasn’t starting. I was continuing.”

“Continuing what?”

She grinned. “Whatever that was.”

I scowled at her, but the truth was I was too busy trying not to think about Callum’s warning. Or the birthday myth. Or the way everyone in the room had gone half-quiet when his name was mentioned earlier.

The rest of the day passed in pieces. Paperwork. Tours. Rules. More stairs than I wanted to count. By late afternoon I was tired enough to hate the architecture on principle.

Tahlia left me at the dorm block with a quick salute and a promise to find me later if I didn’t get swallowed by the place.

I went back upstairs, unlocked my room, and stepped inside.

The room looked the same.

Too same.

Then I noticed the drawer by my desk.

It was not fully shut.

I was sure I had closed it.

I walked over, pulled it open, and stared at the papers inside. The stack had been shifted. Not much. Just enough. Enough to know somebody had looked.

My breath caught.

I stood very still, the room suddenly far too quiet, and listened for anything outside the door.

Nothing.

Then, very faintly, I heard footsteps somewhere down the corridor.

I turned sharply and went to the window, but the hall below was empty.

My pulse was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat, in my head and eyeballs.

Someone had been in my room.

And they had wanted me to know it.