The suitcase snapped shut with a dull thud that went straight through Selene's bones. It sounded like it was locking away her old life, forcing her to leave it behind in the closet. Blue leather, silver clasps—far too neat for the chaos she carried inside.
"You really have everything?" her mother asked for the third time, tucking in a scarf that immediately poked back out again.
"No," Selene said without looking up. "My bed wouldn't fit. But I can buy another one at the station."
Her mother sighed, shaking her head. Selene knew she wanted to smile back, but this time there was nothing funny about it.
Her father entered the room. Suit, tie, hair parted as if drawn with a ruler. And of course the phone in his hand—like he couldn't put it down even to say goodbye.
"The taxi's waiting," he said, businesslike as always. "We have to go."
Of course the taxi was waiting. Everything was waiting—except Selene.
The ride through the city was silent. Houses, streets, cafés—every corner she knew passed by like parts of her own body. And now she had to leave them all behind glass.
Her mother put a hand on her knee. "It's only a year."
"Sure," Selene muttered. "And in a year I'll have learned how to smile politely while dying inside."
"Selene."
She smirked. "I'm kidding. I can't wait—strange bathrooms, cafeteria food. Living the dream."
Her father cleared his throat and looked up from his phone. "Your aunt recommended this school. She went there herself."
"Then it must be fantastic," Selene said dryly. "Aunt Emilia also liked celery juice."
Her parents exchanged that look—the one that said: Ignore her, she's scared.
Selene leaned back, crossed her arms, and said nothing.
The sky hung gray above the city. Raindrops ran down the window in thin lines—tiny escapes.
The station was bustling—people rushing, trains whistling. Her father pulled the suitcase from the taxi, her mother wrapped her arms around Selene's shoulders.
"We're proud of you."
"Yeah, sure." Selene returned the hug briefly—too briefly—and stepped back.
"Call us when you arrive."
"If I have reception. Maybe they still use carrier pigeons there."
"Selene…"
"It's fine." She forced a smile. "Go on, or you'll miss your flight. Biggest business trip of the century, right?"
Her father placed a firm, businesslike hand on her shoulder. Her mother lingered, as if she wanted to say something—but then she let go.
One last wave. Then they were gone.
Selene stood there, alone with her suitcase and her racing heart.
The train started moving, and the city disappeared. Selene watched the landscape change—first fields, then forests, then fog rolling over the hills like smoke. It felt as if someone were changing the scenery piece by piece.
Maybe that's better, she thought. New stage, new role. Arrogant Selene. Better than abandoned Selene.
She practiced her reflection smile in the window until her face looked like a stranger's.
Two other girls shared the compartment. One kept typing on her phone, the other wrote in a notebook. Both looked like they knew exactly where they belonged. Selene pretended she was one of them too—someone who fit in. She knew the trick: narrow your eyes, tilt your head a little, look bored by life itself. Worked every time.
"Headed to St. Eloria too?" the girl with the notebook asked eventually.
Selene nodded. "Yeah. You?"
"Of course." The girl smiled shyly. "I'm Nele."
"Selene."
"Oh—almost the same!"
"Mhm." Selene turned back to the window. Names were enough. Friendships were luxury items, and she didn't feel like she could afford any right now.
When she arrived, a carriage was waiting. Yes—a carriage. With horses. No bus, no taxi. The coachman wore a deep hat, his face hidden in shadow. He took her suitcase without a word and set off.
"Is this really necessary?" Selene muttered. "Next time maybe a broomstick?"
But as the hill rose, she saw it: St. Eloria Academy.
A castle. A fortress. A dream—or a nightmare. She couldn't tell. Towers pierced the sky, gray stone walls, windows glowing in the evening light. A shiver crawled down her spine.
Okay. That's… impressive. Still just for show, though.
The carriage clattered over cobblestones that shimmered bluish in the fog. Behind the walls, trees loomed, their branches tangled together like whispering hands.
The entrance hall was as high as a cathedral. Candles floated in the air as if held by invisible strings.
Selene stared, then let out a quiet laugh. "Very subtle. Invisible wires. Probably a required class for illusionists."
Students hurried past—some laughing in groups, others alone, some carrying stacks of books. Selene felt out of place, like an actor who'd wandered into the wrong play.
A teacher with a tight bun approached her. "Miss Vale. Welcome to St. Eloria. Please follow me."
Selene followed. The corridor was cold, the walls lined with paintings whose eyes seemed to follow her. Of course. Standard haunted-house decoration.
The teacher finally opened a door. "Here—your room. It was meant to be single, but due to a mix-up… you'll have to share."
"Share? Like… a toothbrush or just the space?"
The woman didn't smile. "Your roommate is already here. Liora Fern."
The door swung open.
A girl with dark curls and oversized glasses sat on the bed, surrounded by piles of books. She looked up, startled, her fingers gripping a page as if she'd been caught reading something forbidden.
"Hi," Liora said softly.
Selene studied her—shy, nervous, too sweet. Great. Me and Snow White. This'll be fun.
"Alright," she said aloud. "I'm Selene. I don't snore, if you're wondering."
Liora blinked. "Oh… good to know."
Selene flopped onto the other bed, grabbed her suitcase. And while Liora returned to her books, Selene stared out the window.
The towers of St. Eloria rose into the evening sky, fog curling over the walls. It looked like a stage set—grand, eerie, beautiful.
If this is all a joke, she thought, then it's a damn good one.
The next morning, she woke to the sound of a bell. Not an alarm, not a buzzer—a real bell. Deep and resonant, vibrating through the stone walls.
"That's the breakfast bell," Liora said sleepily, her glasses crooked on her nose. "You can't be late."
"Oh, how strict. Do they have one for 'remember to breathe' too?"
Liora smiled uncertainly. "Actually… no."
Selene got up, threw off her blanket, and searched for her shoes. One was missing. "Great. Robbed on the first day. Maybe it's a humility lesson."
"There." Liora pointed under her own bed.
Selene bent down and pulled the shoe out. It was wet, as if someone had dipped it in water.
She frowned. "Please tell me you don't sleepwalk with a bucket."
"Of course not!" Liora blushed. "Maybe… condensation?"
"Right. Shoes sweat." Selene slipped it on anyway, even though it made her shiver.
The great hall was even more impressive in daylight. Long tables, heavy benches, candles everywhere. The smell of bread and something sweet filled the air.
Selene took a tray and stood at the edge of a table. Around her, students laughed, greeted one another, jostled for seats.
No one knew her. No one spoke to her. She was just another silent piece of furniture.
Until someone sat down beside her.
"New here?" asked a boy with messy hair. His uniform jacket hung open, tie loose.
"What gave it away?"
"The look that says you're planning your escape."
Selene raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I am."
He grinned. "I'm Orion. Orion Kerr. Second year."
"Selene Vale. First year, obviously."
"Vale?" He seemed to test the name. "I think I've heard that before."
"Then you probably googled my parents."
He laughed softly. "Or maybe it's just a coincidence."
Selene kept chewing her roll, pretending not to care. But she noticed he was watching the candles—how they flickered, almost in rhythm with his breathing.
"Great," she muttered. "Built-in light show."
"Nothing flickers by accident here," Orion said without looking at her.
Selene frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
But he was already standing, giving her a brief nod before walking away.
After breakfast came the orientation tour. The same strict teacher led them through corridors, staircases, courtyards. Every stone smelled of history; every shadow looked like it was hiding something.
Selene tried to remember everything: the library's name (Archivum Aeternum—of course), the class schedule, the curfews. But her head was spinning.
"This way," the teacher said, turning into a side corridor. "This is the north wing. Please avoid the west wing. It's under renovation."
Renovation. Sure. Selene eyed the barricaded door and swore she heard faint voices crackling behind it.
Liora whispered, "They say that's where the old professors live. The ones who never left."
Selene smirked. "Right. Maybe the plumber from 1890 too."
But something in Liora's eyes made her pause.
That evening, rain lashed against the windows. Somewhere, a shutter banged.
Liora had lit a candle, even though the electric light worked. "I like this," she said softly. "It feels… calmer."
Selene lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. "Calm is just another word for boring."
"Or for safe."
"You think we're safe here?"
Liora looked surprised. "Of course. Why wouldn't we be?"
Selene shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe because the school looks like a horror movie set and every second hallway screams secret passage."
Liora giggled. "You're strange."
"Thanks. I try."
A thunderclap rattled the glass. Liora jumped. Selene didn't move.
She liked storms. At least they made honest noise.
Later, when Liora was asleep, Selene stood by the window. Outside, fog coiled thick over the towers. A light moved across the courtyard—someone carrying a lantern.
She couldn't see the figure, only the shadow drifting toward the west wing.
Curiosity tingled in her fingers.
But then she remembered the teacher's warning: Please avoid the west wing.
Selene smiled faintly.
Of course.
The more she wasn't supposed to go somewhere, the more she wanted to.
She lay back down, pulled the blanket over herself. Somewhere above, water dripped—a soft, steady rhythm.
Liora murmured something in her sleep. It sounded like a name.
"…Eloria…"
Selene opened her eyes.
Outside, the wind howled—and the candle on the desk flickered, though no one had touched it.