The sun had barely risen when Vicky awoke to a chill that ran deeper than the thin blanket on his cot. The dormitory was silent, yet the air vibrated with energy, subtle and intangible. He could feel it in his bones: the day would be unlike any other. A soft pulse of intuition stirred, brushing against his consciousness, hinting at choices and consequences yet unseen.
The morning routine at Nevermore Academy was unlike any school he had known in New Delhi. Breakfast was served in a grand hall with vaulted ceilings, stained glass windows depicting twisted mythological figures, and chandeliers shaped like skeletal wings. Students milled about, some chatting casually, others gliding silently as if aware of unseen currents.
Vicky followed Enid, who chattered nonstop about the school, her voice bubbling with energy. "Today's the day, newbie! First real lessons in awareness! It's not just classes—you'll learn to read the air, the halls, the people… all of it. Watch. Learn. Survive."
Vicky nodded, his mind alert. Intuition had already begun threading itself into his awareness, a subtle, humming presence he could feel in his chest and along the back of his neck. He didn't yet understand it fully, but he knew it would be crucial today.
Bianca walked beside him, elegant and composed as always. "Don't let her distract you. The lessons require focus. Pay attention to your instincts."
"Instincts," Vicky echoed softly. Intuition, he thought. Not instinct. It's more than reaction. It's foresight, sensing threads before they tie themselves into action.
Xavier smirked from a few paces behind. "We'll see how well your 'threads' work when the stakes are real," he said, voice smooth but carrying a sharp edge. Rivalry was tangible in the air; Vicky felt it in the twitch of his spine, the subtle tension threading through his awareness.
The first lesson of the day took place in a massive training hall, empty except for the students and a series of strange contraptions scattered along the polished stone floor. Guardian figures—tall, imposing, cloaked in dark fabrics—watched silently from the shadows. Vicky's pulse quickened as he realized this was not just a class: it was a test of perception.
"Observe," a voice instructed—Wednesday's, soft but cutting through the stillness like a blade. "Predict before acting. Awareness is your weapon. Anticipation is survival. And survival… is everything here."
Vicky's body reacted before his mind fully processed. A leather training dummy tipped slightly toward another student. He moved instinctively, catching it before it toppled, his hand brushing against its surface, feeling its weight shift. A ripple of whispered threads passed through his consciousness: left arm too weak. Student distracted. Avoid collision.
The dummy settled safely. The student looked at him in surprise. Enid's grin was impossibly wide. "Newbie, you just passed lesson one without even trying. That was amazing!"
Vicky felt the thrill of the pulse—intuition not just sensing, but guiding, threading possibilities through his mind and allowing him to act decisively. It's working, he realized. This gift… it's real.
Wednesday's eyes, always piercing, lingered on him. He could feel her scrutiny, subtle but potent, like a pressure at the back of his skull. She didn't intervene, didn't congratulate, didn't even smile. Yet the awareness of her presence sharpened him, focused him, pushed his intuition into clearer alignment. She's a guide, whether she intends to be or not.
The next exercises tested group coordination. Vicky found himself paired with Enid and Bianca, moving through obstacle courses that twisted and turned unpredictably. Spinning pendulums, shifting platforms, and sudden pitfalls threatened failure at every step. He sensed movements before they occurred—Enid's exuberant leaps, Bianca's precise footwork—and adjusted instinctively, guiding both without them noticing the invisible thread connecting their movements.
Xavier, watching from the sidelines, raised an eyebrow. His smirk suggested amusement, but Vicky detected tension there too. Xavier was already sizing him up, weighing him, testing the limits of his awareness. The rivalry wasn't personal yet—it was instinctual, a natural friction created by two potent forces measuring one another. Vicky noted it and let it flow through his intuition, a thread of information he could use later.
By midday, exhaustion had set in. Sweat clung to his hair and uniform, muscles a dull ache, but his mind hummed with exhilaration. He understood something new: intuition wasn't magic—it was a dialogue with possibility. Each movement, each subtle detail, each heartbeat of the environment fed into it, weaving threads that could be followed, manipulated, or anticipated.
It was during a brief break that the first real warning appeared. A shadow flitted across the far hallway, glimpsed from the corner of his eye. Not a student, not a guardian. Something else. Dark, low, deliberate. The pulse of intuition flared sharply: danger. Seconds later, a distant crash echoed—a door slammed violently in an empty corridor, sending dust motes spiraling through the air.
Enid squeaked and bounced nervously. "What was that?"
Vicky's mind raced. He didn't yet know the source of the threat, but his awareness threaded through the halls, scanning, sensing shifts in air, tension, and energy. Not immediate. Not close. But… present. Watching.
Wednesday appeared silently beside him, sketchbook tucked under her arm. "Hyde," she said quietly. Her voice was low, barely audible, but it carried weight. Hyde? Vicky's pulse spiked. The intuition threads pulsed stronger, sharper, warning him, guiding him toward caution.
"Who—what is Hyde?" Enid asked, wide-eyed.
"She's a name," Wednesday replied cryptically, "and soon you will see why it matters." She walked away without another word, leaving Vicky with a strange mix of dread and curiosity.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of lessons, observation, and small exercises designed to stretch awareness. Vicky found himself predicting movements, sensing emotional currents, and noting subtle patterns in behavior. Each success tightened the thread between perception and action, between danger and avoidance.
By evening, the courtyard was quiet, the spires bathed in silver moonlight. Vicky sat on the stone steps, processing the day. His body ached, his mind buzzed, but the intuition pulsed strongly—more distinct than ever before.
Enid plopped down beside him. "Okay, that was insane. I've never seen anyone catch a dummy before it even fell. You're… you're special, I think."
Vicky smiled faintly. "I'm learning. That's all."
Bianca joined shortly after, nodding at him. "You handled yourself well today. But remember, awareness isn't just about reacting. It's about understanding, reading threads, predicting consequences. Pay attention to subtle signs—small things matter."
"Small things always matter," Xavier added from the shadows, leaning casually against a railing. "You'll learn that sooner or later."
And then, in the quiet, Vicky felt the thread again—Wednesday, somewhere across the courtyard, watching, assessing. His pulse of intuition tugged him gently, not a warning, not yet, but a signal: She is important. Pay attention. Learn from her, trust her, anticipate her.
As the moon climbed higher, casting pale patterns across the misted grounds, Vicky understood something else. Danger, observation, awareness—they were all threads woven into a larger tapestry. Hyde, the shadows, the students, the spires—they were all part of it. And his role was only beginning.
Tomorrow would bring more lessons, more tests, more danger. But he was ready. Each thread, each pulse, each small prediction strengthened him. And he knew, with a thrill mixed with dread, that the first true challenges—the ones that could claim life or break spirit—were still ahead.
Nevermore Academy was alive, pulsing, watching. And so was he.
Vicky Dahiya, boy from New Delhi, was beginning to understand: intuition was only the beginning. The threads of fate were his to sense, to follow, and eventually, to manipulate.
And somewhere in the shadows, Hyde waited.