The bell the next morning woke Selene so violently that she swore it had been invented to disguise torture as an educational method.
"I already hate this school," she muttered, pulling the blanket over her head.
"We have to get up," came Liora's gentle voice from the other bed. "The bell means we need to be in the dining hall."
Selene peeked out from under the blanket. Liora was already dressed—blouse buttoned, hair neatly tied back, looking as though she were heading to a job interview rather than a boarding school breakfast.
"How can anyone look that… proper at this hour?" Selene sat up. "Are you sure you're human? Maybe a robot?"
Liora blushed. "I just… don't want to make a bad impression."
"Too late." Selene swung her legs out of bed. "Bad impressions are my specialty. You can relax."
The corridors were cool, torches throwing flickering shadows along the stone walls. Selene couldn't help but stare at every painting they passed.
"The eyes move," she muttered.
"They do not," whispered Liora.
"They do. The woman in the red dress just winked at me. Probably wants my autograph."
Liora laughed softly, then quickly tried to suppress it.
The dining hall finally left Selene speechless. It was enormous, with tall windows and long wooden tables. Above them floated hundreds of candles, bathing the room in golden light.
Selene stopped in the doorway. "Seriously? Floating candles again? Do they teach a special course in wire mechanics here?"
"It's beautiful," Liora breathed in awe.
"It's overdone." Selene pushed past a group of students. "Probably just mirrors and a chandelier on wheels."
She sat at a table and reached for an apple—only to watch it peel itself in her hand.
Selene stared at it. "Oh please. Self-peeling fruit. That's just special effects in snack form."
A few students giggled nearby. Selene grinned and took a dramatic bite. "Hm. Tastes like a normal apple. Disappointing."
Then she saw them.
At the far end of the hall stood a group of five boys. They carried themselves like the room belonged to them—every glance, every laugh, every move radiated that effortless confidence you couldn't fake.
And right in the middle: Leather Jacket.
Selene named him instantly. Dark hair, a grin that was both invitation and challenge, and a kind of presence that stretched the air tight around him. He actually wore a black leather jacket, which in this sea of uniforms and robes looked like a deliberate rebellion.
Of course. Every school had its peacock. This one just brought his own throne.
He noticed her. Of course he did. Their eyes met, and his grin deepened—a promise that could only mean trouble.
Selene bit into her apple again and turned away. Let him stare. I can stare too. I just do it better.
After breakfast they trudged with the other newcomers to a room where schedules were being handed out. Selene took her paper and read aloud:
"'Introduction to Rune Theory.' 'Defense Against Magical Disturbances.' Seriously? Why not just write 'Illusions for Beginners' while they're at it?"
"That sounds exciting," said Liora.
"Exciting like a dentist appointment." Selene rolled her eyes. "Let me guess—next week we'll have a class called 'Advanced Wand Polishing.'"
Liora giggled, then bit her lip. "Maybe… it really is magic."
Selene stopped walking and stared at her. "You're dangerously gullible, you know that? If they tell you tomorrow the walls can breathe, you'll believe it."
"And if they do?"
Selene blinked. "Then I'm moving out. I'm not living in a house that pants."
Their first class was Rune Theory. The room was dark, lit only by faint glowing lines across the blackboard. The teacher, an elderly man in a robe that looked stolen from a theater costume box, raised his hands.
"Welcome. Today you will learn the fundamental runes. Each rune carries a meaning—a power."
Selene whispered to Liora, "Give it a minute, he's about to throw a smoke bomb and yell abracadabra."
But then one of the runes began to glow—not like chalk, not like a projection. It shimmered, as if the air itself had turned to light.
Selene stared, mouth half open.
"Wow," she breathed before she could stop herself.
"See?" Liora grinned faintly.
"That was fluorescent paint," Selene said quickly. "Or… bioluminescence. Science. Clearly."
But the flutter in her stomach told her she didn't quite believe it.
The academy's reception hall smelled of old stone and furniture polish as I followed the overly cheerful receptionist. My suitcases clattered across the uneven tiles, and I wondered if they left the floors bare on purpose—probably so newcomers would sound awkward and out of place.
"This way, Miss Vale," the woman cooed, pulling an iron keycard from her folder. "You've been assigned a single room, as requested."
"Of course," I muttered. That had been my parents' only condition before they dumped me in this… experiment. Privacy. A small consolation for being parked in the middle of nowhere for a year.
She stopped before a heavy oak door that had definitely seen better days. "Room 217. Welcome." She handed me the card, smiled as if awarding me a medal, and swept off.
I took a deep breath, slid the card into the slot, and with a satisfying click, the door unlocked.
The first thing I saw: two beds.
"You've got to be kidding me," I hissed.
"Oh, hi."
A voice came from the left. A girl sat on the other bed, legs crossed, glasses askew. Stacks of books surrounded her like she'd been there for weeks.
I stared. "This is my room."
"Um… ours?" She pushed her glasses up, eyes cautious, like she was bracing for impact. "I'm Liora. New here. Like you, I guess?"
My lips tightened. "I was promised a single."
"Then… someone must've made a mistake." She shrugged and smiled nervously. "Welcome to the club of errors."
I dropped my suitcases with a heavy thud. If I had to share, I'd at least make an entrance. "Fantastic. A school full of magic and wonder—and their best trick is a double room."
She giggled. "You sound like you're planning to quit on the first day."
"If I could, I would." I flopped onto the empty bed. The mattress was as hard as the floor. Fitting. "My parents are on a business trip. A year. In some country I can't even spell."
"That's… long." She hesitated, then said, "My parents wanted to keep me home. But my aunt insisted I come here. So… here I am."
I looked at her. "Aunts. Underrated, but dangerous."
"That's what I said!" she grinned, and for some reason, that made her oddly likable.
We spent the next few minutes unpacking. I arranged everything neatly—if life was chaos, at least my shelf wouldn't be. Liora stacked her books in neat but ridiculous towers.
"What are you reading?" I asked casually.
"Rune Theory. And a bit of Alchemy." She lifted a book whose title I could barely read. "I want to be prepared."
"For what? Magic tricks during math class?"
She laughed—quietly, but genuinely. "Maybe. Or for whatever's waiting for us here."
I rolled my eyes. "Have fun witching."
Later, when the lights were out and only the weak glow of the street lamps seeped through the curtains, I lay awake. Liora turned restlessly in her bed, mumbling something. I wondered if she was dreaming that this was all a joke too.
I closed my eyes, but sleep wouldn't come. The silence was too foreign, the walls too strange—like they were breathing.
Then I saw it.
A faint shimmer on the wall above my desk. At first I thought it was a reflection from outside. But it moved differently—alive.
A thin golden line glowed, crawling across the stone like a pulsing vein. It throbbed in rhythm with a heartbeat—my heartbeat, I realized.
I sat up, the bed creaking softly. "Liora?" I whispered.
She mumbled something, turned over, still asleep.
The light pulsed once, twice—then vanished. As if it had never been there.
My heart pounded. I rubbed my eyes. Maybe I was tired. Maybe I was imagining things.
But then I felt it—a faint, throbbing warmth in my right palm. Not painful, just there, like an echo of that light.
"Great," I muttered. "Two days here and I'm already fit for the psychiatric ward."
I pulled the blanket over my head, but the pulse remained. A silent promise I didn't yet understand.