The carriage rattled along the cobblestone streets, and I gripped the silver locket hidden beneath my cloak. The rune carved inside pulsed faintly—like a secret heartbeat meant only for me.
Outside, the city greeted us in pastel warmth. Cherry blossoms fluttered through the air like snow made of silk, dusting the sidewalks and rooftops. The buildings stood tall, draped in ivy and sunlight, and the wind carried the faint scent of wisteria and coffee. There was a kind of magic in it—gentle and deceptive.
It looked like a dream.
But my heart was heavy. That cold, lifeless mansion I left behind had held my whole world… and all the pain in it. My parents were long gone. My aunt—the only warmth I ever had—died months ago. And my uncle? Always away, as if he couldn't bear to look at me. Only Lady Anne had remained, and even she had stepped back this morning with misty eyes and trembling hands as she handed me the key to my new life.
A dormitory in a new city, A place to "start again."
It should've felt like freedom.
Instead, it felt like being unanchored—set adrift in a city that smiled too kindly.
The carriage slowed before a tall red-brick building nestled between arching trees and scattered lanterns. Laughter rang out from a nearby bench where two boys sat passing notes, and further down, someone strummed a guitar with eyes closed. This place was alive.
I stepped down. My boots crunched against gravel, and the wind played with the hem of my dress—long, high-collared, and cinched tightly with a lace-trimmed corset that made breathing a careful art. It was a piece from my aunt's old trunk, stitched with faded threads of a life long gone. I looked like I'd stepped out of a painting. Wrong era. Wrong place.
And apparently, someone agreed.
"Well, well," came a teasing voice. "Are we expecting a royal visit, or did the princess get lost on her way to the ball?"
I froze, turning toward the source.
A boy leaned against a nearby column, his smile cocked, his posture loose. His hair was tousled, sun-warmed brown, and his eyes held a glint of harmless mischief.
I straightened, tugging my cloak tighter. "I'm not a princess."
He grinned. "Could've fooled me. You wear tragedy and lace like it's your birthright."
Then his gaze dropped briefly to my waist, and he tilted his head, amusement flickering in his voice.
"Is breathing optional in that thing, or are you just naturally composed?"
I blinked.
He didn't say it unkindly. Just… like it was obvious.
He stepped closer and offered a hand. "Evander. But everyone calls me Leo."
"Lyra," I said cautiously, not taking his hand.
"Well, Lyra, welcome to our charming little asylum. Do you know where you're going?"
"Yes," I lied, glancing around the grand entry hall filled with bookshelves, murmuring students, and too many staircases.
"Ah. Confident. I like that." He fell into step beside me like we'd done this a thousand times before.
I picked a hallway at random, ignoring the sting in my chest. The past clung to me in threads I couldn't untangle. And now this—this boy, this place—was too bright, too loud, too much.
"Looking for the throne room, Your Highness?" Leo said, voice light.
"I said I'm not a princess," I muttered.
"Sure, sure. Just the mysterious new girl in a vintage gown with sad eyes and a death grip on a pendant. Totally normal."
I didn't respond. I couldn't decide if I wanted him to go away… or keep talking.
"Reception is down that hall," he added, pointing. "But I'm happy to trail after you if you'd rather wander dramatically into a broom closet."
I shot him a sideways glance. "Why are you still talking to me?"
He tilted his head like the question confused him. "Because you looked like a story waiting to happen. And I like stories."
The word story hung in the air like a promise—or a threat.
I finally spotted the sign: Administration.
"There," I said, picking up my pace.
Leo walked beside me, still half-smiling like he'd already decided to be part of whatever story I was carrying.
And I…
I wasn't used to being seen like that.
Not with curiosity. Not with light.
The locket burned faintly against my chest. The rune carved inside shimmered softly, waiting.
This was only the beginning.
At the top of the stairs, Leo finally slowed. "Guess this is where I pretend to be a respectful student and not follow you through mysterious double doors."
I turned to him.
He shrugged. "See you soon, Lyra. Try not to sell your soul in there unless it comes with benefits."
A crooked grin. A wink.
And he was gone—vanishing into the hallway like smoke that knew how to walk.
I turned toward the tall oak doors.
They creaked open before I could knock.
The headmistress's office smelled of sandalwood and ink. It was large, neat, and strangely warm. Sunlight spilled through stained-glass windows, painting the floor with shards of color.
She sat behind a desk of black mahogany, hands folded, dressed in deep velvet robes. Her hair was pulled back severely, but her expression wasn't unkind—just unreadable.
"Miss Virelle," she said.
"Headmistress," I replied softly.
"You've traveled far."
"Yes."
"And lost much."
I flinched, but nodded once.
She studied me, gaze flicking briefly to the chain at my neck. "I knew your aunt. She was a force. And very fond of you."
I said nothing.
"There is a legacy in your blood," she continued. "You will find this place… awakening things. Memories. Truths. But also, dangers. The City keeps its secrets, even from itself."
Her eyes met mine. "I hope you're ready to remember."
The silence stretched like a blade between us.
Then she blinked, just once, and the moment passed.
"Room 307," she said. "North Wing. You'll find it easily."
I stood, not quite sure what had just passed between us.
She didn't rise. "Welcome, Lyra."
I turned and left.
The North Wing smelled faintly of fresh wood polish and blooming jasmine from the window box outside. Soft sunlight spilled through the wide windows, casting golden patterns on the pale walls. The room was cozy—small but tidy, with warm quilts folded neatly on the bed and stacks of well-loved books resting on the desk.
The carved wooden bedposts twisted like gentle vines, adding a subtle vintage charm that made the space feel like a secret garden.
I set down my bag and walked over to the window, watching the courtyard below where students wandered between classes, their laughter light and free.
A sudden knock at the door made me jump.
Before I could answer, it swung open.
Leo grinned, holding two mugs of steaming tea.
"Thought you might need this," he said, stepping inside without waiting.
I blinked. "You live next door?"
He shrugged, plopping down on the edge of my bed. "Nope. I live on the fifth floor and it's my duty to make sure the mysterious girl in the corset survives her first night."
I couldn't help but laugh, the tightness in my chest loosening a bit.
"Thanks, Leo."
He raised his mug in a mock toast. "To new beginnings and breathable corsets."