The road was… strangely quiet.Dad was driving, mom sat beside him, quietly shuffling papers in a folder: recommendations, conclusions, forms, powers of attorney.Aya was in the back seat. Hoodie over her head, headphones in her ears, and her soul somewhere in a suspended state.Nothing new on the phone.No social media posts about Raven. No coherent reviews.And even the GPS didn't show the school. Just a gray spot on the map. As if the area existed, but the address didn't.– Are you absolutely sure this isn't some secret government facility? – Aya muttered.– Quite possibly, – dad replied without taking his eyes off the road. – Then they definitely won't find you there.– I won't even find myself.Sign: Road closed. Access by permit only.Beyond that, forest. And an old, forgotten road, like from a fairytale where everything good had long rotted, and everything bad had just started to stir.– Even the asphalt got offended and left, – Aya mumbled, clutching the armrest.Up ahead, among the trees, the shadow of a building appeared.Tall. Grim. With carved spires like Gothic cathedrals. And… gates that began to open on their own as the car approached.– Oh, great. Self-opening gates. That's just… perfect for a school, right?Mom gave a nervous chuckle.– Well… dramatic.Aya pulled out her headphones.Exhaled.– Okay. It's just an old academy. You just live there, study with strangers, and don't eat anyone for lunch. Easy.The car drove onto the grounds.Lawn measured to the inch.Fountains dry.Benches painted, but empty.The building seemed pulled upward not by architects' hands, but by someone's will. It felt like it was… watching.Aya got out. The door slammed shut, and the sound echoed across the inner courtyard.As if… a warning.– We'll go with you to reception, – dad said. – Sign whatever needs to be signed, meet the coordinator. And then…He didn't finish.Aya nodded.– I know. Then you'll leave.– But not disappear, – mom added. – We'll always be in touch.When they entered the hall, Aya felt a shift in the air for the first time.It was… thick. Not dusty, no. More like filled with someone else's thoughts. Or someone else's silence.Dark tiles on the floor.Tapestries on the walls, like from a museum.And a strange scent in the air: not incense, not mold… a mix of chalk, paper, and slightly burnt herbs.A woman in a black cloak rose from behind the desk. On her chest, a badge of a raven's wing.– Welcome, Aya Li. We've been expecting you.Aya felt a chill roll down her spine.She smiled. Crookedly.– Sorry, do you say that to everyone? Or do I have a subscription or something?– You're a rare case, – the woman said. – Which means… you get special attention. Please proceed to the main hall. A faculty representative is already waiting.– What faculty? I haven't even said "good morning" yet.Dad placed a hand on Aya's shoulder.– It'll be fine. Just… take it all in.Mom whispered:– Write. Like you always do. Everything. We'll read it later. Or… not read it. But still, write it down.Aya gripped the strap of her backpack.And walked.Alone. Deeper. Down a hallway where the walls seemed to sigh with each of her steps.Welcome to Raven, Aya. Now you're this school's problem. And maybe… its salvation.– Follow me.The curator's voice was soft, but made no attempt to sound kind. It held that neutral "I'm not your enemy, but not your friend either," which somehow made it slightly comforting.Aya walked, glancing at the arches, vaults, doors – more than seemed necessary for a building this size.– The Raven Academy is arranged simply, – the woman said, leading Aya down the corridor. – The dining hall is in the west wing. Washrooms and baths are below, under the living quarters. Common rooms are in the towers. But you, Aya, will live in Sector L.– L for… Losers?– L for Labyrinth.– Great. You just couldn't make it sound nicer.They turned a few more times, went up a spiral staircase, passed a tapestry of a woman whose eyes were streaming rivers.– This is where those live who… don't fit in right away. Not because there's something wrong with them. Just… it's not clear what's with them.– Yeah. That fits me perfectly.They stopped at a wooden door with a metal handle. No number, no nameplate. Just dark wood and a sense that it had already let someone in.The curator nodded.– Go in. You can unpack. No one will bother you for now. Dinner's at seven. If you want, find the dining hall. If not, rest. Everything starts tomorrow.Aya nodded.– Thanks. Or no thanks. I haven't decided yet.– Take your time. They allow that here.The woman left. The door clicked shut.Aya was alone.The room turned out to be… surprisingly normal.No skeletons, no holes in the walls or flying lamps. Just: a bed with a gray cover. A small desk with an empty drawer. A narrow wardrobe, clearly not for dresses, but for stashing things just in case. A window. And a mirror.She immediately covered it with a towel.– No mirror mysteries on the first night. I'm not playing that game.She set her backpack down, sat on the bed.And only then did she clench.Her phone, barely catching signal, showed three unread messages from mom."We arrived. All's well. Call if anything.""You're strong. We're close, even if not nearby.""We love you. So much."Her fingers trembled.Aya typed quickly:"I'm scared.Don't know what's going on here.Room's okay, but the building's whispering, mom.Dad, tell me it's okay?Tell me I'll be okay.Just say it."The message sent on the fifth attempt.She hid her phone in her sleeve. Sat, tucking her legs in.And didn't move for a long time. Just listened to someone pacing softly in the hallway. Not loud. Not scary. But aware that she was there.Aya pressed her forehead to her knees.– And here we go again… – she whispered. – New school again. Teachers looking at me like I'm a grenade without a pin. Whispering behind my back. And again, I…Inhale. Exhale.– …have to be scarier than they think. Because otherwise, they'll eat me alive.She remembered how it had been in the previous schools.First interest. Then surprise. Then rumors. And then… something happened.A lab that "suddenly" caught fire when Aya was locked inside for half an hour.A teacher who fainted from "inexplicable panic" standing next to her.A mirror in the locker room, cracking like a spiderweb when someone called her "little demon."Each time, more fear in their eyes. Fewer words. More empty seats around her in the cafeteria.And silence, stretching like a chain.Aya raised her head. Wiped her nose with her sleeve.– Enough whining. You're in a new hell now. So… act like you know how to survive it.She carefully removed the towel from the mirror.Looked into it.Eyes red from tears. Cheeks still glistening. Hair tangled on her forehead.But the look…– I can do this. You can do this, Aya.The cafeteria didn't greet her with the smell of food, but with the scent of something… warm and wrong. The air was thick, like in an old hospital kitchen that forgot what ventilation was. It didn't stink, but it frightened.Aya stood at the entrance, unmoving.A wide room. Stone arches. The floor dark, shiny, as if polished with blood. A few dozen students – if you could call them that – were already at the tables. She noticed a girl with a doll-like face and quickly looked away – the girl had no pupils. In another corner, someone too tall – either sitting on two chairs or one, but with a clearly non-human spine.Aya took a step.No one turned. But she knew she'd been noticed.It felt like skin crawling – like someone's gaze could peel it off.The chair was hard. Cold. She sat on the edge, ready to run if needed.Someone darted past too fast – not steps, but a rustle.She tensed.Pretended to examine her plate. Something stewed. Maybe meat. Maybe not. Better not know. She habitually reached for her phone and remembered: no signal. No network, no Wi-Fi. No GPS.Even the watch was dead.Foreign voices – whispering, as if from another room. Words unclear, only intonations. Laughter – strange, echoing from someone's chest.Aya didn't eat.Just sat. Her throat tight.Steps again – now slower. Behind her. She didn't turn. If it was human – okay. If not… let it think she didn't see it.At some point someone sat next to her. Silently. Quietly. A girl about fifteen, way too perfect looking – like from a textbook. Only lavender hair. And pupils too wide.– Enjoy, – she whispered.Aya was silent.– Yeah, you probably think everyone here eats kids?– I think someone here is eating with their eyes. Right now.The girl chuckled. Smiled. Too sweetly.– You can call me Mira.And left. No name, no "how are you." Just vanished back into the crowd.Aya finally tried a piece of bread. Hard. But okay. Seemed like.In the distance, someone growled. Not angrily. Just… growled.And then silence.No one touched her. Yet. But something about this dinner felt wrong. Not one thing – everything.As if everyone here knew: the new girl wasn't just new. She was a bone they hadn't yet decided to gnaw or stash.Aya finished her bread.Got up.And walked back. Too fast, but not running. She didn't want to show how badly her legs were shaking.In the corridor, the door closed quietly behind her.And in one of the corners of the hall, Miraël slowly opened her notebook.On the page:"The new girl chews bread like it has the meaning of life. Maybe, for her, it really does."
Not cold. Not stuffy. Just… nothing.Aya closed the door, turned the handle twice – habit. Though what's the point? If someone wanted to come in, the door wouldn't stop them. And if they didn't… even worse.She sat on the edge of the bed.Exhaled deeply.– Well, not a bad start. No one tried to eat me. Yet.Sniffled. Let out a half-laugh.– Well, if the guys here like playing out their inner furries – who am I to interfere? It's all… fine. They're just really, really into cosplay.She took off her jacket, walked back and forth across the room. There was enough space not to bump into the wardrobe, but not enough to do a cartwheel. Overall, a standard cage for standard panic. All would be fine, if not for… what was happening down below.– Those lenses. Someone had freaking square pupils. Who makes lenses like that? Where do they even order them?She forced herself to sit back on the bed, pulled out her phone. Thought about texting her parents ironically that she's alive, but no longer sure she's still fully human.Opened messages. Started typing."Hey, all good.Dinner was… original.Looks like they support subcultures here.Cosplayers level: god.One guy, I think, implanted bones on top of his skin. Realism 💯Smile, I'm okay."The message froze.One second. Five. Seven."Failed to send. Try again later."Tried again.Network: ❌. Wi-Fi: "Unavailable."GPS: location error.– Ha… ha… of course. To help us study better, right? No distractions. No memes. No parents. No traces. And if we get chopped up here, no one will even look for us. Genius.The laugh came out uncertain. Her fingers were still trembling, though she pretended to just play with a ring on her hand.Something small and childlike ached inside. Real. The kind that usually gets buried under "sarcasm," "stern looks," and "I'll handle it myself."– Dad, mom… damn, I'm so freaked out.She got up, walked to the window – closed. Bars? No. Well, thanks for that. Though, who knows what counts as a "window" on the second floor in a school like this…– Yeah, sure. Go on, common sense. It was nice knowing you.She rummaged through her backpack, pulled out a hair tie, tied her hair back. Then untied it. Then tied it again. Realized she was just distracting herself. Her head buzzed from too many efforts not to lose her mind.Her stomach growled.Aya huffed.– Great. Now I'm hungry, too. Cherry on top. Too bad there's no cake. Even the bread felt like it was made of curses and resentment.She lay down. The blanket was strangely soft. The pillow almost human.And then the sounds began.First, light shuffling. Under the floor? Or behind the wall? Then a click. Like a fingernail on glass.Aya held her breath.No logic to it. Could be pipes. Could be ventilation. Could be someone checking how the floor creaks if you crawl on your elbows.She pressed deeper into the mattress. Her heart pounded.Then a scream. Short. Female. Somewhere far. Or near. Hard to tell.– That was just… the wind. – She squeezed her eyes shut. – A very, very emotional wind.Her brain scrambled for excuses. It's not a ghost, not a demon, not your new classmates rehearsing shadow theater, uh-huh.And with those invigorating thoughts……she fell asleep.Not because it felt safe.But because her body gave up.