Semua Bab Ensnared : Bab 1 - Bab 10

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 made some exceptions. Very rare exceptions of gifted children whose talents surpassed extraordinary bounds, were invited—but even they were tested, evaluated, measured against the standards of the Academy. Only the godly learn here. And only the exceptional taught here.The campus was situated further in after the Inverness castle that overlooked the River Ness and Old City town we left behind.It rose atop a cliff that overlooked a silver lake, the kind that reflected the sky so perfectly it looked as though the heavens themselves had descended to rest upon the water. The castle was the main visible building. Its towers, carved from imported marble and black stone, gleamed under the early mo

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, nervous laughter attempting to pass as composure.Other tables are already rising. Some heirs clinging to one another in hurried clusters, whispering through pale lips. Others moved with brittle dignity, spines straight, faces bloodless and drawn but controlled.Our table does not move. We remained seated as if stitched into place.Waiting. For what? For who? The air between us feels taut, not frozen and stunned like the others had been. Instead it is suspended and measured.Then Alaric Veyne rises. He does not push his chair back abruptly. He deliberately does not draw attention to himself. He simply stands, smooth and unhurried, as though the next motion in the room has always belonged to him.

The morning arrives quietly, not with birdsong or warmth, but with light. It filters through the floor-to-ceiling glass wall in diluted shades of silver and pearl, the fog outside is still clinging to the manicured lawns like a secret unwilling to lift. The world beyond Alpha Hall looks distant, like something out of a painting. Controlled. Untouched. Muted. Yet it is enough to signal that the first official day has begun. I stretch on the plush velvety chaise stretching out my body. My bones pop and crack from sleeping in such a cramped manner. The fabric beneath me is velvety and comfortable. I sit upright slowly rolling my shoulders as I yawn loudly. A faint stiffness tugs at my upper back shooting pains along my numb arms and fingers. I should have taken to the bed. But last night required vigilance. New territory demands awareness. My gaze drifts back towards the horizon beyond the glass. The fog softens everything, edges blurred and shadows indistinct. It makes the academy ap

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 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