Psycho Academy Novels & Stories

The sounds of the Academy fall away, replaced by the distant rustle of leaves and the steady beat of my own heart. I doze off with plans of escape spinning in my head—wild, impossible, beautiful thoughts.

My reflection in the glass didn’t look like mine at all—my eyes glowed faintly, my lips parted as though whispering a name I didn’t remember learning. The wards trembled. The Academy was stitched together with old magic, its bones laced with the founders’ blood, its heart bound by runes carved into the earth itself. I could feel them now, those invisible threads, wrapping around towers and classrooms, dormitories and hidden stairwells. They quivered under the storm’s weight. And under me. My hand pressed against the glass, and in the flash of lightning, the glass spiderwebbed with cracks. The door behind me opened with a low groan.

Psycho wondered as his patched and cracked lips refused to part to even allow him to speak. He didn’t know why he couldn’t move as freely as he wanted, for his eyes were struggling to adapt to the piercing brightness of the sun. He could not see properly. His body just felt unusually heavy. Almost as though there was something keeping him bound. The last time he felt this way was right before he awakened as an Undead. For before he opened his eyes to this world that he knew, his body would not listen to him. Since then, he had clawed his way through the bitterness of mediocrity to become an integral part of Dark Shadow’s forces. His brutal nature and demonic actions had earned him a spot in