Chapter 1: The Veiled Academy
The carriage wheels crunched over gravel as Evan Drayce leaned against the window, watching the iron gates of Solstice Academy materialize through the downpour. Each raindrop that struck the glass distorted his view, turning the towering spires into wavering ghosts in the storm. His fingers absently traced the edge of the letter in his coat pocket—the paper worn thin from being unfolded and refolded a dozen times since its mysterious delivery.
Your potential is unmatched.
But potential is dangerous here.
No signature. No seal. Just those seven words in ink so dark it seemed to drink the light around it.
The carriage lurched to a stop. Evan took a steadying breath, the air thick with the scent of wet earth and something sharper—ozone, perhaps, or the lingering trace of magic. As he stepped out, his boots sank slightly into the mud, the weight of his trunk floating obediently behind him thanks to the crackling storm magic at his fingertips.
Lightning split the sky, illuminating the academy in stark relief. The ancient stone seemed to breathe in the flash, shadows pooling in the hollows of carved gargoyles' mouths before the darkness swallowed them again.
A gust of wind tore at his coat as he approached the gates. They swung open with a groan before he could touch them, the metal icy even through his gloves. The courtyard beyond was empty, the cobblestones gleaming wet underfoot. His reflection stared back at him from countless puddles, fractured and warped.
"You're early."
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere. Evan turned sharply, his hand instinctively going to the dagger at his belt—a habit from home. A woman stood beneath the archway of the nearest building, her silver hair blending seamlessly with the mist that curled around her shoulders.
Selene Arkwright.
Even from several paces away, her presence was unsettling. She stood perfectly still, her gray eyes tracking his every microexpression. The moonlight—though Evan couldn't see the moon through the storm clouds—seemed to cling to her, casting her in an eerie glow.
"Most students arrive with the others," she continued, her voice low and measured. "Bravery or recklessness. Which is it, Evan Drayce?"
The use of his full name sent a prickle down his spine. "I didn't realize punctuality was a crime."
Selene's lips curved, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. "At Solstice, everything is a test." She turned without waiting for a reply, her long coat whispering against the damp stone. "Come. You'll want to see your quarters before orientation."
The Grand Atrium swallowed sound whole. Evan's footsteps echoed too loudly as he followed Selene beneath the vaulted ceilings, their heights lost in shadow. Stained glass windows depicted scenes of magic and mastery, their colors muted in the storm's gloom. The air smelled of old parchment and something darker—burnt herbs, perhaps, or the metallic tang of blood long since scrubbed from the stones.
Students clustered in hushed groups, their conversations dying as Evan passed. He caught fragments of whispers:
"—third one this month—"
"—heard the headmaster's eyes turned completely black—"
"—they say the north wing answers back if you listen too closely—"
Selene moved through the crowd like a ship cutting through fog, her path clearing without a word. Evan kept close, his shoulder brushing against a bookshelf. The tomes here were old—some bound in what looked like flesh, their titles etched in gold that caught the dim light.
As they neared the faculty wing, a sliver of light spilled from a half-open door. Evan might have missed it if not for the sudden rise of voices—one sharp and familiar.
Mira Solene.
Her crimson hair was unmistakable even in shadow, the color vivid against the dark wood of the professor's desk. She had the man's wrist in a vice grip, her knuckles white.
"You swore the ritual would wait," she hissed, her voice trembling with barely-contained fury.
The professor—a gaunt man with ink-stained fingers and hollow cheeks—leaned in close. "The solstice doesn't care for your conscience, Mira," he murmured, his breath stirring the loose strands of her hair. "The price must be paid."
Evan's breath caught in his throat.
Selene's hand closed around his elbow like a manacle, pulling him away before he could hear more. Her grip was iron, her nails biting through the fabric of his coat. When she spoke, her voice was barely audible over the sudden rush of blood in Evan's ears.
"Curiosity is a currency here," she said, her gray eyes boring into his. "Spend it wisely."
Then she released him, leaving the words—and the warning—hanging between them like the blade of a guillotine.
Somewhere deep in the academy, a bell began to toll.