LOGINLyria Vale thought her life of privilege was the hardest challenge she’d face—until she was chosen for Alpha Hall, an elite squad in Blackthorn Sovereign Academy where heirs are tested… and eliminated. Quite literally killed if they fail to pass academy tests. When out on a mandatory wilderness survival camping trip, Lyria and her group are kidnapped by a rogue group of trolls. Which is a break breach of accords between the human realm and Mystic realm. This specific tribe of trolls is suffering from an extinction threat because the massacred their entire female population for mixing with male human they considered inferior. Now they turn to kidnapping female heirs to breed with because they believe they have superior genes. As everything unfolds Lyria discovers her growing feelings for Alaric in a place where any distractions will cost her life or the lives of the ones she loves. Survival becomes a game of wit, strategy, and courage. In a place where every glance, every corridor, and every alliance could mean life or death, Lyria must learn quickly: in this world, power is earned, trust is a weapon, and the shadows are haunting. Will she keep her promise to return alive to her parents or will she succumb to her impending death and become another heir in history?
View MoreThe sunlight filters through the tall windows of my private suite, painting golden streaks across the polished floor reflecting somewhat bright beams. I blink against it as my eyes adjust, disoriented for a heartbeat. The memory of last night comes flooding back erasing the last of my grogginess: the Autumn Infrastructure Forum, the waltz, Alaric’s hand at my waist, the way he had said my name. My chest tightens. Why was he interested in this initiative? Why was he interested in me? My instincts scream at me when it comes to him, but I am not sure exactly what kind of signals I am receiving. I roll over and stare at the ceiling. Something didn’t sit right. That subtle shift in his attention, strategic, probing, almost personal—keeps twisting in my mind. I felt it as clearly as a sharp wind against bare skin. Was he using me? A means to an end? It is not uncommon in heir society. Or was it something else entirely? I can’t decide and deliberating in bed isn’t getting me anywhere. I
The Blackthorn Sovereign Academy Political Convocation was never called a ball. That would have implied indulgence.A celebration?.............too soft.It is referred to, with careful neutrality, precisely and deliberately-as the Autumn Infrastructure Forum. But no one mistakes it for anything less than a battlefield dressed in silk. Connections and made and broken here. As if marble floors and chandeliers, the size of constellations exist purely for policy discussion.It takes place on the second evening of the first semester. Every year. First years only.An initiation disguised as diplomacy. The Grand Atrium Hall—our orientation hall—is unrecognizable tonight. Crystal light cascades from vaulted ceilings. Glass windows frame the skyline and the dark shimmer of the lake below. From this height, the city looks contained. The stained windows look alive. That illusion is intentional.The heirs arrived in calculated waves before me, each entrance staggered by design. Every stride meas
The combat hall experience still clings to the scent of steel and exertion as we exit into the corridor. The feeling of helplessness taking up root inside me is a first in my life. I would give anything never to feel again. No one speaks as we march in silence. The shift from physical aggression to polished composure happens almost instantly — as if we have all slipped back into our true uniforms. Heirs. Not fighters. But it does nothing to quell the rising spirit within me against Alaric. Once I have a target, I do not rest.The light spilts long and gold through the tall windows of Alpha Hall, and Alaric slows his steps just enough that we naturally gather. I glance at the diamond studded watch on my wrist. Precisely midday.Lilith is the first to break the silence.“They’re accelerating us,” she says calmly, adjusting the cuff of her blazer. “Combat and Strategy in the same morning.”"They’re compressing adaptation cycles,” Sora replies. “Forcing pattern fatigue.”Faye leans again
The corridors leading to the combat halls are alive with soft murmurs and the occasional click of polished shoes. A different kind of anticipation hums beneath the polished stone.I look around. At this academy, there are no standard uniforms between the years. Just crests on the clothing with different colors to mark different years.Black and white for first years, white and silver for second years and gold for the years. An iridescent crest, the original one, is given to graduates inside a while bound leather book. My parents let me see the book once a long time ago. It sat behind a locked display glass case in a secret vault. I was in awe. It looked regal. The snake with wings coiled and a shield and sword interested my child Luke mind back then.I watch different years pass by, with different expressions. Some cheerful, others hollow, some pained, some distant, like they are barely here. Some move in a group like us while others are alone and constantly alert. Every step, every s
No one stands first. That is the strangest part.The announcement has ended. The final echo of Headmistress Blackthorn’s voice has dissolved into the vaulted heights of the cavernous Grand Hall.Conversations have resumed in fractured bursts around us, chairs scraping marble, hushed arguments, nerv
The ceiling soared impossibly high above us, arched in pale stone veined faintly with gold. Suspended from it were geometric chandeliers—tier upon tier of rectangular and circular structures interlocked like celestial machinery.Light fractured through them in shards, scattering across polished mar
Blackthorn Sovereign Academy did not admit students.It inherited them.I have known this ever since I could remember. Only legacies are welcomed here, children of families whose names were etched into history, wealth, power.Though occasionally, in recent years, exceptions were made. The academy m
I have been here for three days. The time has done nothing to calm the dread and turmoil inside me. If anything, time has accelerated the palpitating anxiety building it to the point of harrowing insanity.The incessant haranguing of the grandfather clock in the corner ticking away felt like chips
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