The train cut through the dawn like a whisper. Mist pressed against the windows, streaking into thin silver lines as the landscape blurred past — forests, fields, old industrial ruins swallowed by green. Ethan sat by the window, one hand against the glass, eyes tracking the motionless reflection of his own face.
Seth was across from him, headphones on but no music playing. His gaze flickered to the seat beside him, where their duffel bags sat. "It's weird," he said quietly. "How quiet it feels. You'd think we'd feel excited."
Ethan smiled faintly. "We've forgotten what excitement's supposed to feel like."
The announcement crackled overhead — 'Next stop: Point Veert Station.'
That name again. Point Veert. It sounded less like a college and more like something hidden under the guise of one. The kind of place that didn't appear on regular maps, that wasn't talked about unless you were already meant to go there.
Outside, the mist thickened until it swallowed everything. The world beyond the glass turned pale and endless.
"You think Fargrave knows more than he said?" Seth asked.
Ethan didn't answer right away. "He knows exactly what he's doing. That lecture wasn't just about immunity."
Seth glanced at him. "You mean the symbol?"
Ethan nodded. "The way he talked about recovery — like it wasn't biological, but ritualistic."
The train slowed, wheels screeching softly against the track. Through the fog, the outline of a small station appeared — rusted signs, flickering lamps, no crowd, no sound.
They stepped out into a place that felt abandoned by time.
The air smelled of rain and iron. A single path led uphill from the station, flanked by pines so tall they swallowed the morning light. The college wasn't visible yet, only a faint glimmer far ahead — perhaps glass, perhaps something else.
"Great," Seth muttered, adjusting his bag. "Middle of nowhere confirmed."
"Just like you wanted," Ethan said, and started walking.
It took nearly half an hour before the trees opened up. When they did, Point Veert finally revealed itself.
The college stood like a fortress disguised as a campus — pale stone walls covered in creeping ivy, towers capped with dark glass domes, and a central courtyard shaped almost geometrically perfect, as if built with sacred precision.
From afar, it looked quiet. But as they approached, Ethan felt something shift in the air — a subtle vibration beneath his skin, a low hum that wasn't sound but resonance.
Students moved through the courtyard, all dressed in deep grey uniforms, silent and strangely synchronized. Some smiled faintly when they passed, but none lingered. None looked curious.
"This place feels…" Seth paused. "Choreographed."
"Yeah," Ethan said. "Like everyone's reading from the same script."
A tall woman stood waiting at the gate — long silver hair tied back, clipboard in hand, expression sharp as glass. "Ethan Callahan and Seth Donovan?"
"Yes, ma'am," Ethan said.
"Dean Lyrin," she introduced, her tone clipped but polite. "Welcome to Point Veert. You'll be housed in the East Wing dormitories. Orientation begins at dusk."
"Dusk?" Seth asked. "Not morning?"
"Our schedules are adaptive," she replied smoothly. "You'll find we prefer working with the body's nocturnal rhythms. It enhances cognitive retention."
Ethan caught Seth's eye. "Of course it does."
Lyrin turned, leading them through the main hall. The floor was polished stone veined with crimson lines that glowed faintly when stepped upon. Every corridor looked identical — arches, dark wood, lamps that gave off more shadow than light.
She stopped before a large set of glass doors. Beyond them, a greenhouse shimmered — filled with hundreds of red blossoms that pulsed softly like living embers.
"The Blood Lily," Lyrin said. "Your primary subject of study this term."
The flowers weren't quite lilies, though. Their petals were translucent, threaded with veins of light. The air near them buzzed faintly, charged with something uncomfortably alive.
"They react to proximity," she explained. "But don't touch them. The compound concentration in the hybrid strain is… unpredictable."
Ethan leaned closer to the glass. There was something beneath the soil — faint glints, like crystals or bone fragments. "Hybrid strain?"
Lyrin smiled thinly. "All research demands evolution."
She left them at their dorm — an old stone building overlooking the forest. Inside, the rooms were sparse but clean. Two beds, two desks, a single lamp that flickered occasionally without reason.
Seth dropped his bag and stretched. "I'm calling it. Creepiest college on Earth."
Ethan checked the view outside. From their window, the forest spread endlessly — a dark sea of trees, moving faintly even though the air was still.
Something glimmered in the distance. A faint orange light, deep within the woods.
"You see that?" Seth asked.
Ethan nodded. "Campfire maybe."
"Or something watching us."
That night, the orientation began.
The courtyard was lit by lanterns strung between tall pillars. Students stood in small groups, their murmurs blending into a single low hum. At the center, Dean Lyrin spoke about tradition, growth, and the unity of nature and knowledge.
Ethan half-listened. His attention was on two students standing a few rows ahead — twins, both with pale hair and almost mirrored movements. The girl wore a faint smile, polite but unreadable; her brother looked quieter, eyes always drifting toward the forest's edge.
When the crowd began to disperse, the girl turned suddenly, her gaze locking on Ethan's.
"New arrivals," she said softly, stepping closer. "You're from Thale University?"
"Yeah," Ethan said. "Ethan. This is Seth."
She nodded. "Fortea. That's my brother, Erena."
Erena gave a short nod. "Welcome to Veert."
Something in his tone made it sound less like a greeting and more like a warning.
Seth extended a hand. "Thanks. Hope it's not as serious here as it looks."
Fortea smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Seriousness keeps us alive."
They talked a bit longer — surface-level things about research, schedules, food. But Ethan noticed the way Fortea's gaze flicked briefly toward the greenhouse each time the Blood Lily's glow pulsed brighter.
When she excused herself, she added softly, "Don't stay out after the tenth bell. The forest doesn't like visitors."
Later that night, lying awake, Seth stared at the ceiling. "You felt it too, right? The hum. The flowers. The people."
Ethan turned slightly. "Yeah. This place isn't studying the Blood Lily. It's worshipping it."
Seth's voice dropped to a whisper. "Then what happens when they start feeding it?"
Neither spoke after that.