Rain lashed against the windshield like it had a personal grudge. The old road to the mountains was narrow, twisted like a coiled snake, and surrounded on either side by thick, black-wooded trees that seemed too still to be natural. In the back seat of the black town car, Eris Valemont stared at the water droplets racing across the glass, pretending they were in a race.
She was rooting for the one on the left. It lost.
The driver coughed softly. "Miss Valemont?"
She pulled out one earbud. It wasn't playing anything—her phone had died two hours ago and she hadn't bothered to charge it.
"Yes, Gerald?"
He flinched a little when she said his name. That was normal.
"I, uh... just thought I should remind you that Darkmoor Academy is a very... specialized institution. Not like your previous schools."
Eris smiled sweetly. "Oh, I know. The last one said that too. Right before the chemistry lab turned into a haunted swamp and the dean had to be exorcised."
Gerald's knuckles turned white on the steering wheel.
Eris settled back into the seat, sighing. "Relax. If something weird happens, it's probably not your fault."
That didn't seem to comfort him.
The car passed through towering iron gates shaped like claw marks that screeched open of their own accord. Beyond them, Darkmoor Academy loomed in all its moody, gothic glory. The campus was built into the side of the mountain, an old castle stitched with new additions, towers stacked on towers like a crooked crown. A lightning bolt split the sky, perfectly timed.
"Of course," Eris muttered. "Because why not."
She stepped out of the car and immediately regretted not packing an umbrella. Rain soaked her boots, her hoodie, and the duffel bag slung over her shoulder. Gerald didn't get out. She didn't blame him.
The front doors creaked open on their own. Naturally.
Inside, the entrance hall smelled like old parchment, wax, and… blood?
Eris squinted. No, not blood. Tomato soup?
A tall man with silver-streaked hair and a long black coat appeared at the top of the stairs. He walked with a presence that didn't belong to any normal principal or headmaster. His eyes were sharp and violet, and Eris had the weirdest feeling he could hear her thoughts if he wanted to.
"You are Eris Valemont," he said.
"Unless I've been body-snatched."
He didn't smile. "I am Headmaster Lucien Blackthorne. Welcome to Darkmoor."
He led her into his office, which resembled a medieval study and smelled faintly of ancient secrets and disappointment.
"I reviewed your file," he said, thumbing through a thick stack of parchment. She could've sworn it had been a standard folder a moment ago.
"Three expulsions," he continued. "Each for... incidents that couldn't be explained."
Eris picked at her sleeve. "Not my fault. Weird stuff happens near me. I've accepted it."
"Weird," he echoed, deadpan. "Yes. One headmaster was found trapped in a mirror. Another turned into a raven. The third... claimed his dreams were being rewritten."
Eris didn't say anything.
Lucien closed the file. "Darkmoor is not a place for ordinary students. We educate those of... unique lineage and ability."
"Meaning monsters?"
He didn't deny it. "You are the first human admitted in over a century. The Board allowed it as a favor to your last guardian."
Eris stiffened. "I don't have a guardian."
Lucien's gaze sharpened. "Don't you?"
Before she could respond, the bell outside the window tolled. A massive, bone-rattling sound that echoed across the mountains.
"Your first class begins in fifteen minutes," he said. "Try not to destroy anything."
Eris gave a mock salute. "No promises."
Her dorm room—Room 313—was on the third floor of the East Wing. She had two roommates.
The first, Marina, was a siren with sea-green hair and a Bluetooth speaker permanently clipped to her belt. She talked in rhymes when tired, and only bathed in salt water.
The second, Viola, was a banshee who collected Hello Kitty plushies and screamed in lowercase when she got excited. Which was... often.
"You're human?" Viola whispered the first night. Her voice was like glass shattering underwater. "That's so vintage."
Eris threw her bag on the last available bed. "Don't get attached. I probably won't last the week."
She made it through her first day without dying. Barely.
In Magical Theory, the professor (who may have been partially made of smoke) asked her to explain why ley lines bent toward sentient thought. Eris said they just liked attention. He gave her a B+.
In Self-Defense for the Cursed and Unholy, a towering werewolf named Malgrim tried to knock her out of her dueling circle.
Eris didn't move.
She stared straight into his yellow eyes until he blinked, snarled something about her smelling "wrong," and backed off.
The whispers started after that.
"She's immune to silver.""She hexed Malgrim with a look.""I heard she sleeps in a coffin—by choice!"
Eris ignored it all. She was used to rumors. They were always less dangerous than the truth.
That night, unable to sleep, she climbed to the roof of the West Tower. It was slick with rain, but she didn't care. The sky above was clear now, scattered with cold stars and two moons—one silver, one faint red. They hung low, too close, like eyes watching from above.
A soft wind blew through her hoodie, but it wasn't cold. It was... familiar.
She sat on the edge, staring down at the forest far below.
Most kids worried about GPA. She worried about what would happen if she lost control again. If she forgot to breathe right. If her dreams turned real.
Again.
Then she felt it. A shift in the air. Like someone had opened a door that wasn't there before.
Behind her, something stirred.
Footsteps. Soft. Wrong.
"Eris Valemont."
A voice like broken windchimes in a storm. Old. Knowing.
She didn't turn around.
"Yeah, I hear you," she said calmly. "Let me guess. I'm not supposed to be here."
The air behind her shimmered, heavy with old power. "No. And yet… you are."
"Get in line," Eris muttered. "A lot of people have a problem with that."
The presence faded without a sound. But the feeling stayed—like the sky had marked her. Like something ancient had noticed her again.
The next morning, someone had drawn chalk hearts around her door. Viola winked and whispered, "You're officially the dorm mascot now."
Marina handed her a seashell that whispered compliments.
Eris just sipped her tea and smiled faintly.
Mascot. Right.
Let them laugh. Let them stare.
Because sooner or later, this school would find out the truth.
Eris Valemont wasn't the weakest girl at Darkmoor.
She was the one they should've never let in.