A black carriage drawn by a charcoal-skinned horse halted with a hiss of fog in front of Noctis Academy, creating a sound that seemed to signal the arrival of something mysterious. The hanging lights at the gate flickered to life with a bluish-green glow—neither fire nor anything like it, but something older than flame, radiating an ancient energy that was hard to define. The towering building, resembling the silhouette of a castle from the nightmares of long-dead kings, loomed amidst the fog, as indicated by the shadows that flitted across its walls. Among the moss-covered stone pillars, delicate carvings depicted the dark tales of the school's founders, who were said to engage in rituals involving trapped souls and harboring secrets that had been deeply ingrained in this place for centuries, adding to the air of foreboding surrounding it.
Alea gazed at it from inside the carriage, feeling caught between a desire and a fear that weighed heavily on her heart. Her trembling hands clenched over the fabric of her new uniform, her heartbeat echoing so loudly it felt like a hum in her ears. She recalled her mother's warning that nothing was more frightening than studying in a place shrouded in dark secrets. The sardonic smiles of the neighbors discussing Noctis Academy echoed in her mind, as if reminding her that each step she took on this ground could lead to a disaster that would change her life forever.
This is not just a school; it serves as a colossal altar for something inhuman. Within its shadows, Alea envisioned pale figures moving silently, their mouths tightly sealed, guardians of secrets she was never meant to know. These secrets seemed to keep vigilant watch over her from afar, drawing her deeper into the abyss of darkness that surrounded the Academy.
And she, an ordinary girl, had somehow been chosen to become a student there.
The entrance corridor is wide and dim. Chandeliers hang from the high ceiling, creating the illusion of shadows that constantly shift, almost as if alive. Alea feels the chill of the sacred stone walls, as if they absorb every emotion—fear, hope, and despair—that throbs within her heart. With every step, she senses unseen eyes watching her, and the whisper of the wind carries the names of those who once had ties here: people with dreams etched into its very walls, stories that linger like echoes through the ages.
♜
"Step lightly, Miss Darsha," a faceless servant in a layered obsidian robe speaks, his voice penetrating directly into Alea's mind rather than coming from his mouth. She nearly stumbles as she descends.
In the distance, a tall figure stood waiting for her, emanating an inexplicable aura—dressed formally, with gray eyes that seemed to peer out from behind gathering dark clouds. Though his face remained calm, there was a haunting depth in his gaze, as if he harbored countless unspoken secrets. Alea felt it like cold fingers creeping up her spine; he was a part of the ancient history that enveloped the Noctis Academy, a place where every corner was inhabited by centuries-old memories and dark rituals that had never fully revealed themselves, sparking her curiosity to delve deeper.
"Welcome, Alea Darsha," he said, his voice resonating with a gentle yet dignified tremor. "I am Arvaniel D. Aether, the headmaster. Your acceptance to Noctis has been foretold since the night of your birth." Arvaniel's voice held a depth that penetrated her soul, suggesting that this journey was a fate that Alea could not escape. A part of her yearned to resist, yet tragically, she found herself too enchanted by the allure of this ancient school, as if it had woven its spell around her.
Alea opened her mouth, wanting to say something... but the words failed her. How could anyone respond to such a heavy statement? An unspoken desire urged her to delve deeper into this place, a location laden with haunting history. With a burning curiosity within her, she vowed to uncover the forgotten past: the dark rituals performed by the founders of the Academy, said to involve soul exchanges and the trade of supernatural powers. All of this whispered from the dark corners of her mind, as if inviting her to become trapped in this labyrinth of mystery.
"This... this is insane," he whispered while alone in his new room, which felt like an isolated cosmos. The room was dark, featuring a large window that couldn't be opened, a high bed draped in black mosquito netting, and an old desk with a pen that moved on its own, writing notes about him as if revealing untold stories. Fear and curiosity mixed within him, creating a chilling breeze that surrounded him, carrying a message from a fate that lurked in the shadows. This room symbolized the power and danger present at the Academy of Noctis; it served as a stark reminder that his presence here was not a coincidence but part of the countless histories traversed by every soul that had ever occupied this space. Each stroke of the pen, moving without a hand, seemed to depict his destiny, hinting that his story was just beginning in a world where reality and darkness intertwined in a haunting embrace.
"Alea Darsha. Lumen veritas
♜
"This... this is insane," she whispered while alone in her new room. The space was shrouded in darkness, featuring a large window that couldn't be opened, a tall bed draped in black mosquito netting, and an old desk with a pen that moved on its own, writing notes about her.
"Alea Darsha. Lumen veritas number 13. Aura color: bluish-white. Dominant light."
"I am not... anyone," she said softly, gazing at her reflection in the mirror.
Yet, as she spoke those words, the mirror cracked slightly.
A chill crept in, as if whispers from a dark history surrounding Noctis Academy reminded Alea of the legends often recounted in hushed tones. Known as a gathering place for ancient bloodlines and conduits of arcane knowledge, the Academy was more than just an educational institution; it served as a temple for lovers of darkness and seekers of light. Centuries of rituals had infused its walls with a mysterious aura, ensuring that all who entered its gates were aware that they stood on the brink of something greater than themselves, awaiting revelation by the brave-hearted.
The classroom was a vaulted circular room reminiscent of an ancient basilica. Ornately carved wooden benches formed a semi-circle, and in the center stood a marble stage where the teacher would speak.
Alea stepped forward cautiously. All eyes turned to her—too pale, too silent, and unblinking, as if they were waiting for verses of unwritten poetry.
Then someone pulled out a chair beside her.
"Please, have a seat, Miss Darsha,"
he said. She turned to look.
And her heart froze for a second, as if it had stopped like a clock at midnight.
Inside her heart, Alea felt a wave of curiosity and fear. Who was he? And what did he bring into her naive life? At the Noctis Academy, every gaze and every whisper held a deeper meaning. The history of witches, vampires, and creatures of the night intertwined within these walls, creating an inseparable tapestry. With this realization, she understood that her steps were not merely leading to class—but towards a destiny she would determine for herself.
"My name is Virelth. We have met before."
Alea furrowed her brow, confusion etched across her face. "We haven't—"
"Not in person," he said softly. "But I have seen you in the visions of the elder vampires. And in the last prayer of the White Light."
Alea forced a smile, "You are very... poetic."
"I am just speaking the truth."
Throughout the lesson, Alea struggled to focus, but Virelth did not stop watching her. He didn't speak, didn't move... just stared. But it wasn't a disturbing gaze—more like... a gaze of admiration, as if he feared that his own breath would disrupt the beauty he beheld.
♜
Behind the ancient walls of the Noctis Academy lies a story and tradition that have existed for centuries. In the darkness of the night, the whispers of the wind seem to carry the damp aroma of the earth, marking the long journey of the rituals held there. Every corner is steeped in memories, a place where witches and creatures of the night once gathered, binding promises beneath the light of the full moon.
The sound of ancient bells tolling before the ceremony resonates softly. This school, with its red brick walls and small, faded yellow windows, now serves as a silent witness to the journeys of souls trapped between two worlds. Alea feels as if something is concealed within those walls, a story yet to be uncovered, waiting to be told to those daring enough to delve into it.
As the lesson ended and all the students exited, Alea remained seated. Her legs felt heavy, and a chill began to creep up her spine. She reflected on the lesson that had just passed, Virelth's voice echoing in her mind, reminding her of the dream she had the night before. In the darkness, his figure stood grandly, spreading his dim wings as if merging with the night's obscurity. Alea couldn't help but feel a mix of intrigue and fear—what did destiny have in store for her?
♜
"I don't know what's happening," she said softly. "I'm just an ordinary girl. My mother is an ordinary human. My father... has never been present."
Virelth turned slowly. "Your father is the guardian of the gate between worlds. His blood carries fragments of the first Lumen. You are the last link between night and day."
"I don't know what's happening," she said softly. "I am just an ordinary girl. My mother is an ordinary human. My father... has never been there."
Virelth turned slowly. "Your father is the gatekeeper between worlds. His blood holds the fragments of the first Lumen. You are the last link between night and day."
Alea looked at him. "If that's the case... why do I feel so lonely?"
♜ Flashback: Her Mother ♜
"If you hear the call of the crow," her mother said when she was little, as she bathed Alea, "never respond to its call."
"Why not?" Alea asked.
"Because our blood does not solely belong to this world."
Alea stifled a sob. But before her tears could fall, Virelth stepped closer and gently touched her shoulder.
"When the world falls, what we hold is not power... but light. And you are the only one who holds the light within you."
Alea gazed into his eyes—eyes that had witnessed many things... yet still sparkled with hope upon seeing her.
"Don't let me fall, Virelth," Alea whispered.
And Virelth smiled softly. This moment marked the first time he had felt such warmth in hundreds of years, a flicker of hope igniting after centuries of solitude.
Within the walls of Noctis Academy, the sound of students' footsteps resonated through corridors haunted by the shadows of the past, echoing tales of peace and war. Each brick contained a story, carrying the weight of thousands of rituals performed under the blood moon, seemingly resurrecting the memories of their ancestors. This was a sanctuary where guardians and successors gathered, competing in knowledge about what lay beyond ordinary sight, striving to comprehend the deeper meaning behind every thread of history etched into the walls around them.
♜
At night, as the full moon cast its cold light, Alea felt a surge of energy coursing within her—like an invisible spark of light flowing from her fingertips, connecting her to something far more powerful than herself. Raindrops danced outside the window, blurring the boundary between this world and another, creating a haunting symphony of life and death, intertwining her fate with the echoes of eternal stories.
"The stories here... they are not just ordinary tales," Virelth continued, his voice soft yet firm. "They are the long memories of our ancestors, always ready to repeat themselves."
Alea pondered his words, her heart vibrating with emotion. "Can I become part of that story?"
"You are already part of everything, Alea," Virelth replied with a profound gaze. "And when a thrilling night arrives, remember, you are not alone."