CHAPTER FOUR

“You’ll be fine on your own for a bit, yes?”

Elena’s question hung in the air as I stared at the impossible architecture stretching before me. Buildings that seemed to breathe, pathways that glowed with soft luminescence, students casually levitating textbooks while others shaped water into intricate sculptures.

“I have an urgent matter with the Headmaster,” she continued, already backing away. “Just head toward the main hall—the building that looks like frozen lightning. Someone will help you register.”

Then she was gone, leaving me alone.

I walked forward slowly, trying not to gawk like a complete tourist. A guy passed me with actual flames dancing between his fingers like he was fidgeting with a pen. Two girls floated by, their feet never touching the ground, laughing about something that involved the words “transmutation exam” and “Professor Blackthorn’s face.”

This was insane. This was impossible. This was—

“Twenty bucks says she tries to hug a phoenix within the hour.”

I spun toward the voice. Three girls sat on a low stone wall, clearly in the middle of some debate. The one who’d spoken had rich brown skin and hair that shifted colors in the light—currently deep purple streaked with silver. She held what looked like a normal phone, except the screen displayed moving images that definitely weren’t any app I recognized.

“I’m not taking that bet,” the second girl said. She was petite with pale skin and sharp green eyes, her silver hair cut in a severe bob. “New students always go for the phoenixes. It’s boring.”

“You’re both wrong.” The third girl didn’t look up from the sketch pad balanced on her knees. She was tall and curvy with golden-brown skin and wild curls escaping a loose bun. “She’s got that shell-shocked look. She’ll probably hide in the library for three days.”

“I’m standing right here,” I said.

All three heads snapped toward me. The purple-haired girl’s eyes widened slightly before a grin split her face. “Oh yeah, we know. You're the new girl. The one Elena dragged through.”

“Dragged is harsh,” the artist said mildly, finally looking up. “ Try using sscorted. Persuaded.”

“Kidnapped?” I offered.

The petite one snorted. It was the first remotely human sound she’d made. “At least you’re not in denial about it. I’m Imara.”

“Zara.” Purple-hair gave a little wave. “And the one pretending she’s too cool to care is Sage.”

“I am too cool to care,” Sage said, but her lips twitched. “I’m just also curious.”

“About what?”

“Whether you’re actually going to make it.” Imara’s bluntness should have been offensive, but something in her directness felt refreshing after a morning of carefully constructed lies. “Most new admissions wash out in the first month. Can’t handle the pressure, can’t control their abilities, can’t deal with being around this much concentrated power.”

“Imara excels at motivational speeches,” Zara said dryly, and I smiled at the sarcasm, “Really should consider a career in counseling.”

“I prefer honesty to coddling.” Imara examined her nails, which I now noticed had tiny runes etched into them. “You want me to lie and say everything’s going to be wonderful?”

“I’ve had enough people lie to me today, actually.” The words came out sharper than intended, carrying the weight of Jake’s betrayal, Emma’s deception, my parents’ months of pretending.

Silence fell. Sage’s pencil stopped moving, and Zara lowered her phone.

“Rough morning before the supernatural revelation?” Zara’s voice had lost its teasing edge.

“Rough year. This morning just…” I gestured vaguely at everything around us. “Capped it off.”

“Well, at least you can set things on fire now,” Imara said. “That’s got to count for something.”

It surprised a laugh out of me. “Is that your solution to problems? Arson?”

“I’m water-aligned, actually. Drowning is more my speed.” She said it so matter-of-factly that I couldn’t tell if she was joking. “But Zara here has been known to electrocute her exes.”

“One time,” Zara protested. “And he deserved it. He told everyone I was—” She stopped, eyes suddenly focusing past my shoulder. Her entire demeanor shifted. “Okay, that’s weird.”

“What’s weird?” Sage twisted to look.

“Ashworth. He’s staring.”

I turned instinctively, following their gazes to a covered walkway across the courtyard. A figure leaned against a pillar with calculated stillness—all sharp angles and darkness. Platinum hair caught the light like a blade. Black clothing that probably cost more than my dad’s car. And eyes locked directly on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

“Who is that?”

“Trouble,” Imara said flatly.

“Lucian Ashworth,” Sage added, her sketch forgotten. “The only vampire at Aethermoor.”

“And he never looks at anyone,” Zara said slowly. “Like, I’ve been here two years and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him make eye contact voluntarily. He treats conversation like a terminal illness.”

The vampire was still watching me. Not staring exactly—his gaze was too controlled for that. But I could feel the weight of his attention.

“Maybe he’s looking at something behind me.”

“There’s nothing behind you except the fountain,” Imara said. “And trust me, he’s not interested in the fountain.”

“Why would he be interested in me? I literally just got here.”

“That,” Sage said quietly, “is an excellent question.”

He moved then. One fluid motion that took him from the pillar to walking toward us with a predator’s grace. His movements were too smoothh and precise.

“Oh hell no.” Zara stood abruptly. “I did not sign up for whatever this is.”

“Agreed.” Imara was already sliding off the wall. “Aria, you seem nice, but… vampires especially that one stresses me out.”

“Wait, you’re just leaving?”

“Self-preservation,” Sage said apologetically, gathering her things. “Nothing personal. We’ll find you later if you survive.”

“If I—”

But they were already gone, practically speed-walking toward the main building, leaving me alone to face the beautiful predator closing the distance between us with unhurried certainty.

I should run. 

Every instinct screamed at me to follow their example. But my feet stayed rooted to the spot, and I couldn’t stop staring as he drew closer.

Ice-blue eyes locked onto mine. Up close, he was even more devastating—high cheekbones, a mouth that belonged on a classical sculpture, and something ancient lurking behind that perfect face. He stopped just outside what would be considered a comfortable distance for strangers.

“Hello, Aria.” His voice was smooth as silk and cold as winter. A slight accent I couldn’t place made my name sound foreign. “It’s nice to finally meet you, after what? Decades of dreaming about you.”