#3 A Door with My Name

Rowyn Vale POV

“I am Headmaster Malric Nocturne, and it’s truly an honor to welcome you to Eidolon Academy.”

I blinked. Did he just… hug me? Yup.

Tall. Robed. Intimidating. Looked like he drank blood out of chalices on Tuesdays. And hugged like someone who didn’t do it often. It was awkward. A brief press of arms and tension and something like regret in his eyes. Before I could pull away and remind him I had unresolved personal space issues, he released me and gestured grandly to the trio behind him.

“You’ve already met Zephyr Sylvaran, our airheaded rescue specialist,” he said with a knowing smirk. Zephyr rolled his eyes behind me, his wings flexing just enough to show off. Dick.

“This is Professor Liraeth Duskwell,” he continued, nodding to the terrifying armor clad woman with a face that said she once murdered a god and would do it again if you stepped out of line.

“And this is Commander Ryn Dravenclaw, one of our external security captains.” Ryn just grunted. Great. We were clearly gonna be besties.

“Follow me.” Nocturne turned and swept toward the massive double stone doors at the end of the garden path. Two hulking gargoyle statues stood guard, hunched and frozen in place, their stone eyes glowing faintly under the moonlight. As we passed, one of them winked at me. Winked. I jumped a foot in the air and nearly grabbed Zephyr’s arm before catching myself.

“Nope,” I muttered. “Not today, creepy statue bitch.”

I hustled after the Headmaster, doing my best not to look completely unhinged as we crossed into the main building. The entrance hall smelled like parchment, magic, and secrets. Torches lit themselves as we passed. Whispers tickled the edge of my hearing. The walls shifted when I wasn’t looking directly at them. We stopped in front of a sprawling curved desk carved from deep violet wood. Behind it sat the loveliest fae woman I’d ever seen.

She had golden eyes. Silvery hair braided with vines. Her skin shimmered faintly under the magical lights, and her smile was soft like warm tea and safe hugs.

“Rowyn, this is Lady Elaris Veyra, our Admissions Enchantress.”

Gods, even her title was calming. “Welcome, dear,” she said, her voice like a song. “I’ve been expecting you.”

She reached under the desk and handed me a small stack of items. A thick welcome packet. A silver key ring with one large ornate key, and a folded pile of black and charcoal uniforms with silver trim. I stared at the uniforms with the same joy one reserves for moldy cheese. They looked fine. Functional. Clean. But not exactly “gothic rocker fae princess” material.

I scowled, but kept my mouth shut. Maybe I could accessorize with attitude. As I clutched my new belongings, the feeling I’d been shoving down since the prison walls fell started creeping in. Kyla. Gods, I missed her. Missed her smile. Her awkward jokes. Her terrified whisper of “Don’t die, Rowyn.”

Everyone here was staring at me like I was a bomb wrapped in sarcasm and eyeliner. They weren’t wrong. But damn, I felt so… alone. Headmaster Nocturne gave me a small nod, those sharp eyes still studying me like I was an unsolved riddle.

“Good luck, Miss Vale,” he said, and turned, vanishing down a corridor lined in whispering shadows. I didn’t say goodbye. I just tried not to look like I might crumble. Lady Elaris leaned in slightly. “Miss Vale,” she said gently. “Your escort has arrived.”

She snapped her fingers. With a sparkle and a tinkling chime like wind over glass, a tiny figure burst into the air in front of me in a trail of glitter and sass. It was another wood nymph, but this one wore a miniature leather satchel, glowing boots, and had bright pink wings with streaks of silver. Her hair was white and wild, like she styled it with lightning. Her eyes? Judgy. Very judgy.

“This is Thistleblitz,” Elaris said proudly. “You can call me Thistle,” the nymph said, crossing her arms. “I’ll be your campus guide, personal nuisance, and part-time lifesaver. You’re welcome.”

“That’s… reassuring.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

“Wonderful.” Elaris chuckled. “Unfortunately, we can’t guarantee safety here. Not entirely. You godbloods are the most powerful of the fae, and this school, and the Trials, are designed to test and mold you.”

She gave me a very pointed look. “I recommend making friends. Good luck, dear.” Thistle zipped up the hallway at warp speed. “Come on, firecracker! Let’s get your ass to your room before the castle rearranges itself again.”

I bolted after her, nearly tripping over my boots. The castle twisted and turned like it had a sense of humor. Staircases that weren’t there before appeared, doors shifted places, and at least one portrait growled at me. By the time we got to the third floor, I was gasping.

“Room 718!” Thistle announced triumphantly, pointing a very small finger up the hall. I stopped in front of a black wooden door with a blank silver plaque on it.

“Here?”

“Obviously. Key, genius.”

I fished out the key, shoved it in the lock… and the plaque lit up with silver light. My name burned itself into the metal in elegant script......Rowyn Vale.

I reached out, brushing trembling fingers across the letters. It was the first thing in my life that had my name on it. I opened the door. And gasped.

It wasn’t a dorm. It was a godsdamned luxury apartment. Black velvet furniture. Gothic arches. Chandeliers of obsidian and glowing quartz. A four poster bed with dark silk sheets. Floating shelves lined with ancient books and shadow lit candles. Off to the right was a door that led to a beautiful bathroom, and there was even the cutest kitchenette with a mini stove, microwave and fridge. It looked like a vampire heiress and a witch queen shared an interior designer and said “go wild.”

“Maybe the room just… knows,” I whispered in awe. Zephyr did say the school was alive. The lights flickered once.

“Okay then.” I tossed my stuff on the bed and spun in a circle, my heart pounding.

“Alright, spooky room. I like black and purple. Hard rock. Angry girl bands. Let’s get some posters in here. Maybe a closet full of ripped jeans, band tees, and boots that could kick a demon’s ass.”

I crossed my fingers. “Please don’t make me wear beige.” I closed my eyes. Breathed. Opened them.

And screamed. Posters lined the walls, all bands I loved. Hellstain, Coven Riot, Nightshade Sirens. Drawers full of ripped jeans and fishnets. The closet? Fully stocked with combat boots, black lipstick, leather jackets, and even my school uniforms, in black, thank the gods, with skull embellishments and custom stitching.

A velvet headband embroidered with a tiny scythe rested on the dresser like it was waiting for me. I hit my knees. “Thank you,” I whispered, tears streaming down my face. “Thank you so much.” The lights flickered again in response.

“Okay,” I said, wiping my face. “Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.”

Zephyr Sylvaran POV

Of all the errands in all the realms, why me? I stalked down the third floor hallway, boots slamming against the enchanted stone as the castle helpfully rearranged itself to get me there faster.

Too helpfully. Which was its own kind of suspicious.

Room 718. The girl’s room. Rowyn Vale. I’d just finished updating Professor Duskwell and Commander Grumpy Doesn’t Speak on the extraction when Headmaster Malric Fucking Nocturne hit me with, “Go check on her. Make sure she’s adjusting.”

Adjusting. She blew up a school, flipped me off midair, and threatened to rip my balls off. Yeah, sure. Totally well adjusted. I reached her door, still glaring and still bitter. But when I saw the plaque, Rowyn Vale, etched in gleaming silver, complete with curling arcane filigree, I stopped.

“What the hell…?” That’s not standard. Lowborn fae don’t get this wing of the tower. They get dorms. Basic. Cold. Functional. This was luxury quarters. Reserved for legacies. Royals. People with bloodlines the school actually respected. Must’ve been the Headmaster’s doing. I knocked, sharp and fast. Three times. THUMP THUMP THUMP.

The door flew open, and there she was. Wearing nothing but a black bra and short shorts that should’ve been illegal in four realms. No shame. No apology. No idea what she was doing to my very tired brain. My mouth opened. Nothing came out.

Her eyes glowed faintly under the chandelier, her curls wild, freckles trailing down her collarbones like constellations. She cocked a brow, her arms crossed casually under her......

“Put some damn clothes on,” I snapped, my cheeks burning. Which just made her smirk.

She growled softly and snatched a faded t-shirt off the chair, tugging it on without looking away. It had a skull on it. And the words Try Me, Bitch in cracked lettering.

Of course it did. “What the fuck do you want?” she snapped, shoving her hip out like she was daring me to say something else. I exhaled through my nose and pinched the bridge hard enough to leave a dent.

“I was sent to make sure you were adjusting. That you found your room.”

“Wow,” she said dryly. “Such concern.”

I leaned in slightly, glancing past her into the room, and froze. “What the fuck…”

It wasn’t just big. It was gorgeous. Dark gothic furniture. Velvet, obsidian, silver accents. Floating candles. Posters of angry girl bands and spell choked concert scenes. The castle had literally remodeled a suite to match her aesthetic. That doesn’t happen. Ever. I stepped inside, still stunned, running my fingers across the silk drapes with sigils woven into the hem.

“How did this...?”

She shrugged, feigning innocence with the world’s least innocent face.

“I just asked the room nicely.”

I turned to look at her, my jaw dropped slightly. “The castle doesn’t… cater to students like this. Not usually. It shifts. It helps. It loves students, sure...but this? This is different.”

“Well maybe I’m different.” She said it with a shrug and a little smirk, like she wasn’t currently wrecking my understanding of magical infrastructure.

I stared at her. She stared right back. She might be dangerous. She might be divine.

And she might be a fucking problem. My favorite.