THE CRIMSON ATHENAEUM

Night settled gently over Ravencrest University, soft enough to hush the corridors but not so deep that it swallowed the world entirely.

In the dormitory, Mara slept, sprawled across her bed, the low hum of her phone charging the only sound beside the occasional creak of the old building.

Liora lay in the quiet of her own bed, staring at the moonlight spilling through the window. Something in the academy felt… heavy tonight, like the air itself was charged. Her body ached with exhaustion from her first day—getting lost in the hallways, dodging the bustling students, trying to memorize faces and rules—but her mind refused to rest.

Eventually, sleep came, pulling her under.

And then the dream arrived.

She was in a forest that stretched endlessly, mist curling around her ankles. The air was sharp and cold, pressing against her skin. Moonlight barely touched the twisted branches overhead, leaving the ground beneath her feet in shadow. The silence was absolute—so deep it seemed to hum inside her skull.

Then she saw it.

A wolf.

Its fur was pure white, like fresh snow under moonlight, and its eyes burned a deep, sorrowful red. It stood several feet away, its gaze fixed on her, ancient and impossible to ignore. Liora’s chest tightened. She wanted to step forward, to reach for it, but her feet refused to move, held fast by some invisible force.

And then she heard it.

Inside her mind:

Wake me up.

The voice was soft, trembling, yet somehow desperate.

You have to wake me up.

Liora’s throat went dry. “How…I… I can’t,” she whispered aloud, though the words sounded absurdly small against the vast, cold forest.

The wolf stepped closer, mist parting around its paws. Its eyes reflected centuries of longing, loss, and sorrow. Liora’s heart thumped so hard she thought the dream might crush her from the inside.

Wake me… before they come.

Her stomach turned. The urgency in its voice made the hairs on her arms stand on end. She tried again to move, to reach it—but the dream would not let her.

And then it vanished.

Liora bolted upright in her bed, gasping, sweat clinging to her skin. 

Shaking, Liora swung her legs over the side of the bed and crossed to the table where a bottle of water waited. The cool liquid calmed her throat and heart, though the memory of the wolf lingered like a distant ache.

She glanced out the window, her gaze lingering on the courtyard below. She didn't know why she always had the same dream.

Moonlight kissed the stone buildings, and somewhere in the distance, the Crimson Athenaeum rose, dark and silent, its walls sharp and imposing even under the pale light.

And then.

Movement flickered near its 

shadowed entrance. Liora blinked.

Figures—students, she was certain—emerged from the paths between the trees. They didn’t rush. They didn’t hide. They walked with quiet purpose, converging toward the Athenaeum’s doors.

One. Two. More.

The doors swallowed them one by one.

A chill ran down Liora’s spine. Mara’s warning earlier echoed faintly in her mind: Don’t go near the Crimson Athenaeum after sunset.

Her fingers tightened around the water bottle. Whatever was happening inside that place… it wasn’t accidental.

She stepped back from the window but didn’t close the curtains. The shadows of the Athenaeum seemed to stretch toward her, and deep in her chest, a pull tugged—subtle, inexplicable, and strangely familiar.

Liora shook her head. It’s just… instinct, she told herself. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone—or something—was already waiting for her, even if she didn’t know why.