Chapter 1: Midnight Arrival
The first thing Angel noticed was the cold. Not the kind that seeped under your jacket on a winter day—but a sharp, ancient chill, like the air itself had never been meant for human lungs. When she opened her eyes, the world before her was nothing like the quiet neighborhood she had walked through just moments ago.
Towering gates of black iron loomed ahead, their bars etched with symbols that pulsed faintly, as if alive. Behind them, gothic towers pierced the night sky, their spires vanishing into swirling indigo clouds. Silver light from an impossibly large moon bathed the entire landscape in an eerie, otherworldly glow. Floating lanterns drifted lazily through the air, casting long shadows across ivy-covered stone walls.
Angel shivered, instinctively pulling her hoodie tighter around her. Her jeans were damp from the mist clinging to the ground, and her sneakers felt useless against the ancient cobblestones beneath her feet.
This has to be a dream, she thought, blinking rapidly. It's the only explanation.
A soft rustle behind her made her spin around. From the shadows beneath a cloaked archway, a figure stepped forward. A girl—tall, graceful, and unmistakably inhuman. Her eyes shimmered with a violet glow, and two black horns curved elegantly from her forehead, catching the moonlight like polished obsidian. Her cloak moved with a mind of its own, fluttering in a breeze Angel couldn't feel.
"Another transfer?" the girl said, her voice lilting, amused. "How curious. You're... human."
Angel stared at her. "Wait—what is this place? Who are you? Why am I here?"
The horned girl regarded her for a long moment before replying. "Welcome to Lunaria Academy for the Supernaturally Gifted. I'm Elira, Vice President of the Student Council. And you, Angel, are the first human we've had in over a hundred years."
The words hit like a slap. Angel took a step back. "Human? What do you mean first? Are you saying everyone else here isn't...?"
A low snarl echoed in the distance. Angel turned her head just in time to catch a glimpse of glowing eyes vanishing into the trees. High above, something with vast wings shrieked as it circled one of the towers. Students drifted past, some walking, others gliding unnaturally. Their eyes glowed. Their tattoos moved. None of them looked... safe.
"You shouldn't survive a week here, Angel," Elira said, raising a brow. "But maybe that's what makes this interesting."
She reached into her cloak and tossed something through the air. Instinctively, Angel caught it—a silver pendant, cool and thrumming with some strange energy. As her fingers closed around it, the air seemed to hum in response.
"Wear that," Elira instructed. "It'll hide your scent... for now."
Angel's stomach dropped. "Scent? Wait—what happens if someone finds out I'm human?"
Elira's smile was slow and unnerving. "Depends who finds you first."
The moonlight brightened for a moment as a bell tolled in the distance—low, haunting, like it echoed from another realm.
"Class starts at dusk," Elira added, already turning to vanish into the fog. "Don't be late."
Angel stood there, heart pounding, clutching the pendant like it was a lifeline. This wasn't a dream. It couldn't be. No dream ever felt this cold… or this real.
And whatever Lunaria Academy was, she had a sinking feeling her arrival wasn't an accident.
The pendant in Angel's hand pulsed faintly, like it had a heartbeat of its own. She stared down at it, silver and smooth, suspended on a black cord that shimmered in the moonlight. It wasn't warm or cold—just… there. Heavy, like it carried something more than just metal.
She looked up. Elira was gone. The space where she had stood was now empty, the mist curling back around the old stone path. Angel turned slowly in a circle. The gothic towers still loomed ahead, windows flickering with golden light. Shadows moved behind them—students, maybe. Or something else.
A chill crept down her spine.
This was real. The smell of the air—old parchment, smoke, something earthy and wrong.
Angel walked with slow, careful steps, the hem of her jeans whispering against the cold stone floor. The grand hall stretched out before her, impossibly long and draped in shadows. Enchanted candles floated mid-air, their blue flames flickering without smoke, casting dancing light across the high vaulted ceiling and the carvings in the obsidian-colored walls.
Every breath she took smelled of dust, candle wax, and old, powerful magic. The kind that hummed in the air and clung to her skin like static. Portraits lined the hallway, each one more unnerving than the last. The former headmasters stared down at her—some stoic, others with warped smiles or shifting features. One portrait turned to follow her with glowing yellow eyes, and she quickly looked away.
The silver pendant around her neck pulsed again. Angel gripped it for comfort, like holding it tightly would stop her knees from trembling. Blend in, she reminded herself. Just act like you belong. Like a witch would.
She drew in a deep breath, lifted her chin, and pressed forward.
Voices murmured behind a slightly open door up ahead. Angel paused, curiosity getting the better of her. She peeked inside.
The classroom was unlike any she'd ever seen. Long wooden desks floated an inch above the stone floor. Students of every imaginable kind filled the room—vampires with glassy eyes and sleek uniforms, fae with shimmering hair and shifting colors in their clothes, shadowy figures that didn't quite have faces. Each one scribbled notes on parchments glowing faintly with runes.
At the front of the class stood a tall man in a long coat that shimmered like a reflection in water. His eyes, cold and intelligent, snapped toward her.
"I see we have a new student among us," he said, his voice smooth and unsettling, like silk stretched too tight. A faint smirk played at the corner of his mouth. "I trust you're well aware of the difference between illusion spells and the true magic of manipulation, young witch?"
Angel froze. Every head turned toward her.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded quickly. "Of course, Professor. I—uh—learned about it in my... last academy."
A single eyebrow arched over his sharp gaze. "Hmm. Well then, do try not to embarrass us during the lesson."
He tapped the blackboard with an ethereal staff. Symbols burst into glowing life, swirling in the air like fireflies. They twisted into a geometric pattern that made Angel's head throb just looking at it.
"Now," the professor said, "who can demonstrate the basic spell of elemental binding?"
Murmurs spread through the room as students began flipping pages and whispering incantations under their breath. Angel took a cautious step backward, hoping she could quietly disappear into the shadows. Her heart pounded so loudly she thought someone might hear it.
Maybe I can just observe and get away with it… right? she thought, inching back.
Before she could slip away, a warm hand landed on her shoulder.
She spun around—only to find herself face-to-face with a fae. He was tall and absurdly elegant, with radiant silver wings that stretched lazily behind him and eyes that shimmered like starlight. His smile was pure mischief.
"You're human, aren't you?" he asked casually. "Don't worry. I won't bite... yet. But you should watch out—things here aren't as simple as they seem."
Angel's breath caught in her throat. "I'm not human," she lied quickly. "I'm a witch. I'm just getting used to the place."
The fae chuckled, the sound low and musical. "I wouldn't trust that pendant too much. Fae see through illusions easily. But... it's fun watching someone try to play the game."
He gave her a playful wink, then walked off with fluid grace, his wings folding behind him like velvet drapes.
Angel stood frozen, questions buzzing in her mind. He knows. Or at least suspects. And if he does... who else does?
Her fingers tightened around the pendant.
She had walked into Lunaria Academy thinking survival meant pretending to be someone she wasn't. But she was beginning to realize—pretending wasn't enough. Not here.
Not in a school where secrets were currency... and predators could smell a lie.
—To Be Continued—