Chapter Two
Dark clouds churned above Astral Academy, thick as wet velvet, suffocating the sky. Rain misted from the heavens in a half-hearted drizzle, enough to coat the cobbled paths in grime and make the iron gargoyles sweat with tears. The Academy itself loomed like a crown of decay—towering stone spires, sharp-angled rooftops, and endless rows of gothic windows flickering with candlelight or magic-sick energy.
The statues watched from every ledge, stone angels with cracked wings and blindfolded eyes. Some swore they moved when you weren't looking.
Students passed quietly beneath them— figures in blacks, charcoals, midnight blues colored casual clothes.No one wore the uniform anymore. Not really. Astral Academy had one once, a long time ago, but no one remembered what it looked like. Here, no rules stuck for long.
Until—
BAM.
A beat-up truck rumbled up the main path and into the courtyard, its tires spitting gravel, engine groaning in protest. It wasn't magical. Just stubborn.
In the back? Bags. Pink bags. Fluffy, satin,ribbon-tied bags. Piled high and precariously. Like cotton candy had exploded in the luggage department.
Students slowed. Heads turned.
And then, the passenger door swung open—
Out stepped Arabella Solstice.
A mini pink skirt so short it flirted with public decency. Blocky pink heels. A cropped hot pink fur jacket. A white tank top that did not care about the rain. Her honey-brown hair was pulled back with a velvet pink headband, her lips glossy, and her tiny designer bag dangling like it had something to prove.
She was the only color for miles.
"What the hell?"
"Is she—?"
"Bro, don't you know we've got royalty? That's Arabella Solstice."
Gasp.
"The pink witch?"
"Yes."
"I thought she was just a rumor."
"I guess even high nobilities send their scum to Astral."
"Attention-seeking."
"I mean I heard… but I didn't think it was this bright."
Arabella adjusted her skirt with a flick and began walking like she was on a runway, completely unbothered. She strutted across cracked stone and between silent stares like she wasn't being watched by a hundred curious strangers.
She caught the eye of a tall, awkward boy leaning against a wall.
"Hey, sweetie," she said. "Where's the guidance office?"
His ears flushed. "Uh—main building. First floor. Last door on the left."
She smiled.
"You're a gem."
Inside, the guidance office looked like it had survived several decades and a small magical fire. Two chairs sat in front of a scuffed desk where a woman clacked away on an old desktop computer.
The woman looked up slowly. "Name?"
"Arabella Solstice. Second-year. Transfer," she said with a perfectly false smile.
The woman squinted at her like she was trying to see if she was serious. "You're early. The head of second years will come fetch you. Wait there."
Arabella gave a little finger wave, then sat in the least dusty chair and crossed her legs.
She pulled out her phone and began scrolling like she wasn't surrounded by mildew and judgment.
Thousand more new hate comments. Four memes. A couple of death threats. She double-tapped a meme and smirked.
The door creaked.
She looked up.
A tall, devastatingly handsome young man stepped in. Dark brown skin. Red-orange dreadlocks. Glasses that made his eyes look even sharper. His clothes were standard a gray sweater vest on a black long sleeved shirt and gray slacks—but they looked expensive on him.
He didn't say a word. Just nodded once.
Arabella stood up with a toss of her hair and followed him out.
They got back in the truck. The drive was long—twenty minutes of silence, trees thickening around them, the road growing thinner, fog curling over the path like fingers.
Finally, the truck stopped in front of a crooked cabin.
One bedroom. A fireplace. A kitchen that looked like it hadn't worked in decades. Moss-covered roof. Rotting porch.
The driver began tossing out her bags.
Pink. Pink. Pink.
Arabella stepped down, her heels sinking slightly into the soft ground.
She looked at the cabin.
Then the bags.
Then the man with the red-orange hair.
"Do I get a key, or are the ghosts expected to greet me personally?"
He passed her a single rusted key.
"Try not to die," he said and walked away.
She smiled. "What a pleasant welcome."
And turned toward her kingdom of decay without a shred of fear.