Breakfast was served at exactly 6:45 a.m.
Students filed into the Grand Refectory like soldiers — crisp uniforms, polished shoes, quiet mouths. Angelica moved with them, trying to observe without being observed. But it was impossible not to stand out. Redgrave was a known name, and whispers followed her like shadows.
She found a seat at the edge of the first-year section and kept her eyes forward, pretending not to notice the glances.
A girl across from her leaned in.
"You got the card, didn't you?" she whispered.
Angelica blinked. "What?"
The girl glanced around. "The black one. With the bell."
"…Yes."
"You're being watched, then," she said with a grim smile. "Careful. That means the Council noticed you."
Before Angelica could ask more, the girl stood and moved tables — as if the conversation never happened.
After classes, Group Seven was assigned to a "Council Session Observation" — a tradition, apparently, where new students were permitted to watch the Student Council conduct disciplinary reviews and "performance audits."
The chamber was deep in the South Wing, past a series of locked doors guarded by older students in black-trimmed uniforms.
Angelica walked into the room and immediately felt the chill.
It was circular. Dim. A single spotlight fell on the center — a ring of stone floor marked with a crimson bell sigil. Around it, seven seats curved in a crescent arc, raised like a throne bench. The Student Council.
They were already seated. Silent. Watching.
And in the center stood a trembling boy, maybe a second-year, with a bloodied sleeve.
Kage Blackthorne leaned forward, his fingers laced.
"Mr. Arleston," he said smoothly. "You were caught falsifying your test results using unauthorized neural assistance."
The boy said nothing.
Kage tilted his head. "Why?"
"Because I—I was told I wouldn't pass otherwise…"
"You were told correctly," Kage said calmly. "You are dismissed."
The boy looked relieved—until a Council member rang a small handbell.
Two guards entered.
The boy was escorted out. Not toward the exit. Downward — through a door hidden beneath the floor tiles.
Angelica felt her stomach drop.
No one explained what "dismissed" meant. No one had to.
After the session, Kage rose from his seat and scanned the observers.
His gaze passed over Angelica — then stopped.
"You," he said.
Silence fell.
Angelica slowly stood. "Yes, Council President?"
Kage's golden eyes flicked to the others. "You will report to the tower at dusk."
"For what?"
He smiled. "Initiation."
She was still rattled when she returned to her dorm. Her roommate had finally arrived — a quiet girl named Isleen who didn't speak unless spoken to. Angelica sat at her desk and turned the black card over and over in her fingers.
Initiation.
She didn't know what it meant. But she knew it wouldn't be safe.
From the lower bunk, Isleen spoke for the first time.
"You're being brought in fast."
Angelica looked down. "In to what?"
Isleen didn't look up from her book. "The Council's game."
"I didn't ask to play."
Isleen gave a small, sad smile. "No one does."
A pause. Then:
"They only bring in students with... potential. Or history."
"What do you mean?"
Isleen closed her book. "Your sister. Evelyn Redgrave. She disappeared in her second year, didn't she?"
Angelica froze.
"How do you know that?"
"Because I was here when she did."
That night, Angelica lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
She hadn't come to Bellmere looking for revenge. She hadn't even planned to ask about Evelyn — not yet. She told herself this was her chance to rise, to become something greater.
But now, something old and cold stirred inside her.
Evelyn had been here.
And she had vanished.
And now Angelica was being pulled toward the same shadows.
The next morning, she found a slip of paper beneath her breakfast tray.
No sender. No explanation.
It read:
"Juniper Nox is watching you. Stay sharp."