The gates of Thornwood Academy loomed like a dark sentinel, towering above the long, winding path leading up to the school. Raven Whitethorne stood at the foot of the gate, her gaze fixed on the ornate ironwork, dark shadows clinging to its twisted design. The symbol of a raven, wings spread wide, was etched at its center, a constant reminder of the curse she bore. The weight of the mark on her wrist was almost unbearable today, and it had nothing to do with its physical appearance—it was the feeling that something was about to happen.
"You're staring at the gates like they're going to open on their own, Raven," Elara said, her voice cutting through the silence. She walked up to her friend, balancing her books with the usual clumsiness that made her endearing to everyone.
Raven didn't move. "I've been getting this feeling, Elara. Like something's pulling me here. But... it doesn't feel right."
Elara gave Raven a side-eye, raising an eyebrow. "The gates don't bite. And if they do, I'll punch them for you."
Raven chuckled dryly, but the unease in her chest didn't settle. The whispers in her head were growing louder. "The Veil is thinning... it begins with the shadows at the gate." She couldn't understand it, but the voice had been clear enough. Every time she tried to ignore it, it only grew stronger.
She shook off the thought. "Maybe it's just the stress. Finals coming up, weird vibes, you know?"
"Mm-hmm," Elara said, unconvinced. "Well, if you don't want to talk about it, I won't press. But you better make sure you don't turn into one of those creepy goth kids who wander the halls muttering about curses and demons."
Raven gave her a sidelong glance. "You know, I am wearing black, right?"
"Exactly," Elara said with a smile, "you're already halfway there."
As they passed through the gate, Raven couldn't shake the sensation that the shadows around them seemed to stretch unnaturally. She glanced over her shoulder but found nothing—only the gates, standing silently behind them. She quickened her pace, feeling her heart race for reasons she couldn't quite explain.
Inside the school, the halls of Thornwood were just as imposing as the gates. The walls were lined with ancient paintings of alumni long gone, their eyes seeming to follow Raven's every step. The school was as old as the town itself—mysterious, unnerving, and steeped in secrets. She didn't know much about the history of Thornwood, and frankly, she didn't care to. The less she knew, the less she had to fear.
"Raven? You okay?" Elara asked, noticing Raven's distracted expression. "You've been zoning out all morning."
Raven forced herself to smile. "Yeah. Just tired."
Elara didn't buy it, but she didn't press further. "Well, hurry up. We're going to be late for first period."
Raven followed Elara down the hall, but her eyes kept drifting to the old clock on the wall. It ticked with a slow, deliberate rhythm, almost as though it were counting down to something. Something... inevitable. She had the strange sensation that the world was holding its breath.
As they entered the classroom, a chill ran down Raven's spine. The room was too quiet, as if it were waiting for her. The teacher, Mr. Doran, was standing by the blackboard, his face pale and drawn. Raven noticed his eyes linger on her as she entered, an expression crossing his face that she couldn't quite read.
"Elara, Raven," Mr. Doran greeted them in his usual monotone voice, but there was an edge to it today. "Take your seats, please."
Raven nodded, making her way to her desk. She placed her bag down, her fingers brushing against the raven-shaped mark on her wrist. The sensation of burning returned, sharper now. The room felt suffocating, the air thick with tension.
Suddenly, the light flickered. Once. Twice. Then, as though on cue, the classroom door slammed shut on its own.
A murmur rippled through the students, but Raven's attention was elsewhere. She turned her head toward the window, her gaze fixed on the dark, brooding forest that surrounded the academy. The trees, dense and twisted, seemed to stretch farther than they should. And there, nestled between them, was something she'd never noticed before: a shadow, moving.
It didn't belong to any of the trees or the structure of the building. It was separate, slinking like a living thing.
Raven's pulse quickened, and before she could react, she heard the voice again. "The Veil is opening. Shadows walk freely now."
She froze, her eyes narrowing as she tried to make sense of the words. She turned back to Elara, but her friend was already staring at her, alarmed.
"Raven, you're... you're not okay," Elara whispered, her voice tense. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I'm fine," Raven said quickly, but her voice faltered. The shadows outside the window grew longer, more tangible, stretching toward her. It was as if they were coming for her. No, this isn't real. It can't be real. But the cold dread that settled in her chest told her otherwise.
The classroom door creaked open again, this time more slowly, as if something—someone—was pushing against it from the other side.
Mr. Doran looked up sharply, his face twisting in sudden fear. "Get under your desks. Now."
The students gasped, confusion and fear rising in the room. Raven's heart thudded painfully in her chest as she bolted out of her seat, pulling Elara with her.
"Raven, what's happening?" Elara asked in a terrified whisper.
"I don't know," Raven replied, her voice low but steady. "But I think... I think the shadows are coming for me."
Before they could even take cover, the lights flickered out, plunging them into complete darkness. Raven's ears rang with the silence that followed, only broken by the rapid breaths of her classmates.
And then, out of the silence, a voice—low, cold, and haunting—whispered from the far corner of the room.
"Raven Whitethorne... the time has come. The Veil awaits."
Raven's eyes snapped to the corner, but there was nothing. Nothing but shadows.
The mark on her wrist burned, a sharp pain that made her gasp. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to focus, trying to make sense of the madness around her.
"Raven..." The voice echoed, growing stronger, pulling her into the darkness.
And then the lights came back on. The shadows were gone.
But Raven knew, deep down, that it was just the beginning.
The mark had awakened. And the Veil was calling for her.