Chapter 3: Whispers in the Hallways
The kiss still burned on Evan's lips as he followed the tolling bell through the darkened corridors. Isolde had vanished into the library's shadows without another word, leaving him with the taste of ink and something darker—iron, maybe, or the electric tang of old magic.
The bell led him to the Grand Lecture Hall, its doors carved with scenes of scholars and sorcerers locked in eternal debate. Inside, the air hummed with whispered conversations that died the moment he crossed the threshold.
Every seat was taken.
Students packed the rows, their uniforms a sea of muted blues and blacks, their faces turned toward the raised dais where Headmaster Caine stood flanked by the department heads. Evan spotted Selene among them, her silver hair gleaming under the flickering torchlight.
A hand grabbed his wrist.
Aria Vance tugged him into an empty space beside her. "Took you long enough," she muttered, her breath warm against his ear. "Don't make eye contact with Caine. He likes to pick volunteers."
Before Evan could ask what she meant, the headmaster spread his arms.
"Welcome," he said, and the word slithered through the hall, too smooth, too sweet. "To your first night at Solstice."
Up close, Caine was older than Evan had expected—his face a web of fine scars, his eyes a blue so pale they looked white in the dim light. His smile didn't reach them.
"Some of you will thrive here," he continued, pacing the edge of the dais. "Some will break. And some..." His gaze swept the crowd, lingering for a heartbeat too long on Evan. "...will be remade."
A shiver worked its way down Evan's spine.
Caine clapped his hands. Torches flared to life along the walls, their flames twisting into unnatural shapes—serpents, wolves, grasping hands. "Tonight," he said, "you will be tested."
The test was simple.
A glass sphere passed from student to student, its surface swirling with storm-gray mist. When it reached Evan, the mist darkened to pitch.
"Ah." Caine materialized at his shoulder. "Our late arrival." He took the sphere, his fingers brushing Evan's. The contact sent a jolt of cold through him. "Tell me, Evan Drayce—what do you see?"
Evan stared into the glass. The blackness shifted, forming shapes—a crow with silver-tipped wings, a woman screaming behind a veil, his own reflection with eyes like polished onyx—
"Nothing," he lied.
Caine's smile widened. "Liar." He turned to the assembled students. "This one bears watching."
The sphere moved on. Evan's hands trembled in his lap.
Aria elbowed him. "Told you," she whispered. "Now you're on the menu."
After the test, the students dispersed in hushed groups. Evan lingered at the back of the hall, his mind racing.
A presence settled beside him.
Rowan Vale, the upperclassman from the Terra Department, folded his massive arms across his chest. "You alright?"
Evan nodded, though his pulse still hammered in his throat. "Just peachy."
Rowan studied him with earth-brown eyes. "Caine marked you. That's not good." He lowered his voice. "Meet me tomorrow at the old greenhouse. There are things you should know."
Before Evan could respond, a shriek cut through the hall.
At the far end, a group of students clustered around something on the floor. Evan pushed through the crowd to see Vera Lune crouched over a scattering of dead ravens, their wings arranged in a perfect circle.
Vera looked up, her curls trembling. "They just... fell," she whispered.
Above them, the torches guttered.
The ravens' eyes were missing.