The first thing Sera noticed when she stepped through Duskmoor's front doors wasn't the gothic grandeur, nor the unnaturally pristine marble floors, or the dim chandeliers that flickered like dying stars.
It was the silence.
Thick. Watchful.
It wasn't the silence of emptiness. No, it was the kind of hush that filled the air before something dramatic happened. Like the universe pausing for breath.
Then a voice echoed across the grand hall.
"You're late."
Sera turned.
A girl stood at the top of the sweeping staircase. She looked no older than sixteen, dressed in a crisp black uniform that matched the old-school elegance of the academy. Silver embroidery curled over her lapels, and an insignia—an open eye within a crescent moon—was pinned to her collar.
Her eyes glowed faintly violet, sharp as glass. Her white hair was tied in a loose braid that shimmered like frost. There was something regal about her posture. Not stiff—but coiled. Like she was used to being listened to.
"You missed the moon's peak by four minutes," the girl continued, descending the stairs. "We don't tolerate tardiness at Duskmoor."
"I didn't realize we synchronized with lunar time," Sera replied dryly.
The girl didn't smile.
"You'll address me as Prefect Astrid," she said, halting three steps above. "I'm assigned to monitor your integration."
"Lucky me," Sera muttered.
Astrid's gaze flicked down to the envelope still in Sera's hand. "You've read the letter?"
Sera nodded. "Yup, Cryptic. Threatening. No signature. Felt like a passive-aggressive death wish. Real cozy."
This time, Astrid's mouth almost twitched. A fraction away from a smile.
"Come," she said instead. "Let's begin your orientation."
They walked through vast corridors lit by oil lamps and sun crystals. Each hall was filled with doors—some solid wood, others metal, some pulsing faintly as if alive. Every few feet, an ornate mirror watched them. Sera caught her reflection in one, only to see it frown at her a second after she walked past.
She didn't say anything, but Astrid noticed the pause.
"The school tests you," the Prefect said. "It watches. Learns. You'll get used to it. Or you won't."
"Comforting."
"Duskmoor was founded over seven hundred years ago," Astrid continued. "A neutral haven for supernaturals—werewolves, vampires, fae, witches, shades, and others. Each House represents a faction. You'll be evaluated and placed accordingly."
"I thought humans weren't allowed."
"They aren't."
Sera raised a brow.
Astrid ignored it.
They turned a corner into a narrow hallway lined with massive portraits. A hulking figure with glowing red eyes snarled from one, while another showed a girl with skeletal wings and a crown of bones.
"Founders," Astrid said, noting her glance. "Each one powerful enough to reshape the world. Each one considered… unmanageable by their kind. So they created Duskmoor as a crucible."
"Because normal schools weren't cutting it?" Sera said.
Astrid stopped and turned to face her fully.
"This place is where the monsters send their own misfits. The dangerous. The cursed. The ones who don't belong even among the unnatural."
Sera tilted her head. "So… boarding school for rejects?"
The ghost of that smile returned to Astrid's lips. "Exactly."
They continued down a spiral staircase made of black stone. The air grew colder, and Sera could swear she heard faint chanting behind the walls. At the bottom, they entered the Grand Assembly Chamber.
It was massive—circular, with seven curved rows of stone benches climbing upward like an amphitheater. In the center, a glowing insignia was carved into the floor: a triangle within a circle, wrapped in thorns.
More than two hundred students filled the room.
And every single one turned to stare at her.
The pressure was immediate. The air itself grew denser. She could feel the probing gazes—like fingers brushing against her mind, trying to assess her threat level.
She met their eyes in return. One by one.
And did not blink.
Astrid led her forward.
A tall man in deep navy robes stood waiting at the base of the chamber. His hair was jet black, eyes silver, and his presence commanded silence.
"This is Headmaster Kael," Astrid said quietly. "Do not lie to him."
"Can he read minds?" Sera whispered.
"Worse. He can see the truth."
Kael extended a hand. "Sera Vale. Welcome to Duskmoor."
His voice was calm, yet held a weight that made it hard to breathe.
"Thank you," Sera said, forcing herself not to flinch as his eyes met hers.
For one instant—one second—it felt like he saw everything. The gym fire. The fear. The explosion that came out of nowhere when she was attacked. The way lights flickered around her when she was angry. The loneliness. The questions she never dared ask herself.
Then he nodded, as if satisfied.
"You will be tested tomorrow," he said. "Your House placement will follow. For now, Prefect Astrid will escort you to your quarters. And a warning: Do not wander."
As she turned to leave with Astrid, a ripple of voices murmured through the crowd.
"She's human."
"She made it past the gates?"
"Her eyes—they're silver."
"No aura…"
"Must be a mistake."
Sera didn't react. But inside, her heart beat louder.
So they noticed. Good.
Let them watch.
Her room was in the West Wing—past the Wolf Tower and beneath the ivy-laced arch of a wing guarded by stone sentinels. The halls here were quieter. The air smelled faintly of ink, ash, and roses.
Astrid stopped outside a silver-rimmed door.
"This is your room. Basic wards are in place. Do not leave the wing after midnight unless you want to be eaten by something older than logic."
"Hmm, Good to know."
Astrid reached into her coat and handed her a card. It shimmered when Sera touched it—revealing her name, a silver eye, and a small list of rules.
"You'll find a uniform inside. Your testing begins at first bell. Be ready."
She turned to leave, then paused. "One more thing."
"Yes?"
"You're the first non-supernatural ever admitted to Duskmoor."
Sera didn't answer.
"If they think you're weak," Astrid added softly, "they'll tear you apart."
Sera's eyes glittered like molten silver.
"Let them try all they want. I'm not someone who backs down."
* * *
Inside, the room was unexpectedly warm. A four-poster bed, a small study nook, enchanted light orbs floating near the ceiling. A wardrobe already filled with perfectly tailored black uniforms and silver insignias. Someone had clearly prepared.
She stood by the window.
Beyond, the forest was black as ink. She could hear the howl of something large—long and mournful—echo across the hills.
Then another sound.
Whispers. Not in the room. In her mind.
[She's arrived.]
[She's not what she seems.]
[The seal… it's not holding.]
Sera gripped the windowsill.
"Shut up," she whispered.
The voices faded.
Just as she was about to change into her sleepwear, something darted past her peripheral vision.
She turned.
A figure was perched on her windowsill—lithe, upside down, eyes glowing a soft gold. His skin was brown, his hair dyed a gleaming emerald green, and his grin far too smug for someone caught sneaking into a stranger's room.
"Well, well," he said. "The human lives."
She didn't react. "You always spy on new arrivals, or just the ones with no pulse signature?"
"Only the interesting ones." He flipped down effortlessly, landing on his feet. "Name's Ryn. Mischief mage. House of Whispers. I was betting you'd get eaten at the gates."
"Sorry to disappoint."
"Oh, I'm not disappointed," he said, eyes glittering. "You're fascinating. They say your blood did something weird to a vampire instructor last year. Melted him like butter."
"I've never even met a vampire."
"Which makes the story even better," he whispered conspiratorially. "Don't worry, I like chaos. I'm on your side. Probably."
She raised an eyebrow. "Probably?"
"Depending on how entertaining you are."
Then he vanished—in a shimmer of green light and wind.
Her room returned to silence.
Sera exhaled slowly and sat on the bed.
This place was insane.
But for the first time in her life… she wasn't afraid.
Sera stood resolute.
Let them whisper. Let them watch.
She wasn't going anywhere.