CHAPTER 2

Blackthorn Academy

The gates of Blackthorn Academy looked more like the entrance to a prison than a school.

Tall iron bars stretched toward the gray sky, crowned with black spikes that glistened in the morning rain.

I stood outside them with a suitcase in one hand and a grudge in the other.

This was where my brother had spent his final year.

This was where he had died.

And this was where Vivienne Moreau lived.

My stomach twisted.

A year ago, getting accepted into Blackthorn would have been a dream. The academy was famous across the country. Politicians sent their children here. Billionaires practically bought wings of the school just to secure places for their heirs.

Now it felt like stepping into enemy territory.

The gates slowly opened.

I walked through.

The moment I entered, a strange feeling settled over me.

Like I was being watched.

Students moved across the campus in expensive uniforms, laughing and talking.

Yet every few seconds, someone glanced at me.

Not with curiosity.

With recognition.

As if they already knew who I was.

As if they had been waiting for me.

My brother's sister.

The girl chasing ghosts.

I ignored them.

I had a mission.

And missions didn't leave room for fear.

The administration building stood at the center of campus.

Dark stone.

Tall windows.

Sharp architecture.

Everything about Blackthorn screamed power.

The woman at reception smiled politely.

"Welcome, Ava."

I froze.

I hadn't introduced myself.

The smile never reached her eyes.

"We've been expecting you."

A chill ran down my spine.

Before I could ask what she meant, she handed me a folder.

My schedule.

Dorm assignment.

Campus map.

Everything already prepared.

Like my arrival had been planned.

Like someone knew I was coming long before I arrived.

I left quickly.

The feeling only got worse.

By lunchtime I had explored most of the campus.

The library.

The science wing.

The athletic complex.

The chapel.

Everything looked perfect.

Too perfect.

Like a beautiful mask hiding something rotten underneath.

Then everything changed.

A hush swept across the courtyard.

Students stopped talking.

Conversations died instantly.

Even teachers seemed to stiffen.

I followed everyone's gaze.

And saw her.

Vivienne Moreau.

She walked through the center of campus like she owned it.

Maybe she did.

Her dark hair fell over one shoulder.

Her black uniform looked sharper than everyone else's.

More expensive.

More dangerous.

People moved out of her way automatically.

Nobody spoke.

Nobody challenged her.

Nobody even looked directly at her.

Fear.

That was what I saw.

Pure fear.

The queen had arrived.

For a brief moment, her eyes swept across the crowd.

Then they landed on me.

Everything inside me froze.

Those eyes.

Cold.

Dark.

Unreadable.

The same eyes I'd seen at my brother's funeral.

The same eyes that had watched his coffin disappear into the ground.

Neither of us looked away.

The world seemed to disappear around us.

One second.

Two.

Three.

Then she continued walking.

Just like that.

As though she hadn't looked directly into my soul.

As though she hadn't recognized me immediately.

I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

Something about her terrified me.

And I hated that.

I hated giving her that power.

Hours later, classes ended.

The sky had darkened.

Rain clouds gathered overhead.

I was heading back to my dorm when something caught my attention.

A locker.

Hidden near the back stairwell.

Most students walked right past it.

But I noticed the symbol scratched into the metal.

A crown.

Split down the middle.

A cracked silver crown.

My pulse quickened.

I'd seen that symbol before.

In my brother's notebook.

Repeated over and over.

What did it mean?

Who put it there?

I reached out to touch it.

A voice behind me made me jump.

"Interesting, isn't it?"

I spun around.

Nobody.

The hallway was empty.

Completely empty.

My skin crawled.

I hurried back to my dorm.

The moment I entered my room, my phone buzzed.

Unknown Number.

My heart hammered.

I opened the message.

Leave before she notices you.

My blood turned cold.

Who sent this?

And who was "she"?

Vivienne?

Before I could reply, another message appeared.

This one arrived instantly.

Too late.

I stared at the screen.

The room suddenly felt much smaller.

Much darker.

As if unseen eyes were watching from every corner.

Then my phone buzzed again.

A picture loaded.

A photograph.

Taken only minutes ago.

It showed me standing beside the locker.

Looking at the cracked crown.

Someone had been watching.

Someone close enough to take the picture.

And they wanted me to know it.