The sun had not yet reached its highest point when the wind softly blew between the towers of the Áurea Stella Institute. From above, the world seemed more distant, and the bustle of the campus dissolved into the murmur of the trees. There, at the summit of that tower that seemed untouched by time, a young girl with reddish hair clung to the present as if afraid of vanishing. Her uniform was still unwrinkled, the embroidered satchel still over her shoulder; everything about her spoke of a recent arrival… and yet, she had already been touched by something no merit, no letter of acceptance, could explain. Gretta Rizz was in the arms of a stranger who did not seem entirely human, and although the sky was clear, a glimpse of ancient shadows flickered behind those amber eyes that watched her as if remembering something she could not yet understand.
Gretta nodded slowly, beginning to grasp the situation. Her gaze met Freyr's, and a shiver ran down her spine as she faced the supernatural nature of the young man.
Even so, she felt strangely safe in Freyr's arms, despite his condition as a vampire. She looked into his eyes again, searching for answers in his deep and serene gaze.
—What's happening, Freyr? Is there... something special about me? —The questions escaped almost unintentionally. Her voice was low, restrained. As if she feared the answer might disturb something she still didn't know how to hold.
Freyr fell silent for a moment, as if searching for the right way to respond without rushing her. Then he nodded, slowly.
—Yes. You are special. You just don't know it yet.
—The way he said it carried no romantic weight, nor paternalism. It was a truth spoken with respect, with calm.
—You can consider me your guardian, if that helps you understand why I'm here.
Gretta frowned slightly. She was still processing too many things at once: the tower, the whistle, the wind, his presence.
—Is your way of saying things always this direct? —she asked, part incredulous, part bewildered—. You could've let me know… more subtly.
Freyr smiled, without irony.
—Would you have believed me if I had been subtle?
She lowered her gaze, gently pulling away from his arms. She stepped back just once, while taking in her surroundings.
The tower.
The distant path along which she had arrived at the Institute.
Freyr, now imposing, mysterious, strikingly handsome...
Immortal.
—I don't know.
—I do. —His tone was firm, but not forceful—. And that's why I'm here. Because deep down... you also know there has always been something different inside you. Something that didn't begin today.
The words echoed in Gretta's mind with strength, as if it were something she already knew... without understanding why.
Freyr, faithful to an unspoken promise, didn't press her further.
The wind calmed. The light shifted ever so slightly, as if time itself bent around them.
Gretta blinked.
She no longer felt the cold of the tower, nor the wind brushing her skin.
The marble beneath her feet was solid. The air, still.
In front of her stood an imposing door of dark, finely carved wood.
A small bronze plaque gleamed next to the frame: Headmistress's Office.
Gretta stood there for a few seconds, trying to process what had just happened; for a moment she wondered if, somehow, she had been daydreaming. It all seemed ridiculously fantastical to be real—if not for the scent of roses that Freyr's close presence had left on her dress.
—Such a sweet scent… —she thought to herself, picturing that well-defined face. At once, she patted her cheeks lightly, trying to snap out of it as she noticed what she was feeling—. Well, I suppose I'd better go in and introduce myself to the headmistress.
She took a deep breath, intertwining her fingers as if praying silently to the heavens. Her fingertips brushed the door, hesitating for a moment before summoning the courage to knock. She exhaled slowly, trying to calm herself and regain her composure after such a strange experience.
There was a brief silence in front of the door—perhaps just a couple of seconds, but for Gretta, it felt eternal. Finally, a deep and firm voice of a woman well into her years responded from the other side:
—Come in.
Gretta stepped timidly into the headmistress's office, her gaze sweeping over the elegant furniture with a mix of awe and nervousness. She approached the desk, where a woman with a stern face observed her intently.
—Good afternoon, Headmistress —said Gretta, offering a small bow with respect—. I'm Gretta Rizz, the new student admitted on academic merit. It's an honor to be here.
She clasped her hands in front of her, her fingers fidgeting with anxiety. Despite maintaining a serene expression, her heart was pounding.
The headmistress broke the silence with a grave voice:
—Miss Gretta, welcome to our institution —she studied her closely, with a hint of skepticism—. I hope you are worthy of this opportunity.
She opened a drawer in the desk and pulled out an envelope sealed with the school's crest, handing it to her with sobriety.
—Here you have your class schedule and the information you'll need to adapt. —She paused briefly, and her gaze grew even more severe—. Remember, your stay here depends on your excellent academic performance.
Gretta nodded firmly, taking the envelope with care.
—Thank you very much, Headmistress. I assure you I'll do my best. I won't let you down.
She felt a knot in her throat but did her best to remain composed. She knew this was a unique opportunity, and she was determined to make the most of it.
The headmistress nodded curtly.
—I hope so, Miss Gretta —she gestured toward the door with an open hand—. Now, you should head to your classroom. You don't want to be late on your first day.
Gretta bowed her head respectfully.
—Yes, Headmistress.
As she turned to leave, she paused for a moment and dared to ask:
—Excuse me, Headmistress —she bit her lip nervously—. I wanted to ask... do you know a young gardener named Freyr?
Her cheeks flushed red as she said his name. The woman behind the fine oak desk arched an eyebrow suspiciously.
—Freyr? —her tone was dry and distrustful—. I don't recall any employee by that name —she narrowed her eyes, studying Gretta closely—. Why do you ask?
The girl blushed even more, intimidated by the headmistress's probing gaze.
—Oh, no, nothing important —she laughed nervously, glancing away cautiously.
The headmistress's expression hardened.
—Very well —she motioned with her hand for her to leave—. Now go to class. No more delays.
Gretta nodded quickly.
—Yes, of course.
She hurried out of the office, her mind still full of questions about the enigmatic Freyr. Walking briskly—but not too fast to avoid drawing attention—she headed to her classroom.
—Well, I survived the first social confrontation I was expecting —she thought, remembering the young gardener who, from what she knew of him, might not be so young after all—. How can it be that the headmistress doesn't know him? Did Freyr lie to me?
Her curious mind jumped quickly from thought to thought.
—Or maybe the headmistress pretended not to know him for some reason?
She blushed again, realizing her mind was drifting back to those captivating eyes. She had heard her old classmates talk about love, infatuation, and other nonsense she'd always found silly... until now.
—Am I falling in love? —she asked herself with unexpected clarity—. Who falls in love with a vampire? That sounds like the kind of tale Hermes tells whenever he visits the farm in Listuria.
Arriving at the classroom door, she paused for a moment and glanced out toward the garden that stretched along the lower floors. Maybe out of curiosity... or maybe something more.
Her face lit up with a faint smile as she spotted Freyr's familiar figure, carefully pruning the plants.
In a whisper, Gretta said to herself:
—There you are, gardener...
Her fingers rested on the whistle she carried in her pocket.
—What would happen if I used this again? —she asked playfully.
But she held herself back, regaining composure. She took a few more seconds to watch him and finally turned to enter the classroom, deciding it was best not to draw attention.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the room, ready to face her new classmates and prove she was worthy of the opportunity she had been given.
From the garden, Freyr noticed how Gretta watched him, intending to call him. He chose to pretend he hadn't noticed, focusing on his gardening. He maintained a calm expression, not letting anything betray what had just happened between them. For a moment, a discreet smile appeared on his lips, but it quickly returned to a neutral expression.
He knew it wasn't wise to create more expectations in the young girl—at least, not yet. He continued his work, letting Gretta enter the classroom without interruption.
—All in due time, little Gretta. Soon you'll know why you're so special to me —he thought, casting one last furtive glance toward the balcony where the red-haired figure had watched him before entering, then returned his attention to the plants he tended with care.
The young girl with reddish hair entered the classroom with hesitant steps, her gaze cautiously scanning the space. Despite her nerves, she maintained a serene and dignified expression.
—Here I am, ready for this new challenge —she said softly to herself.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her green eyes shining with determination. She looked around the room, searching for a place to sit. Noticing that some of the popular girls were watching her with disdain, she swallowed hard discreetly, but held her posture firm, thinking:
—I won't let their contempt intimidate me. I must prove I deserve to be here.
—Young ladies, let us welcome Miss Gretta Rizz —broke the silence the classroom teacher—. She comes from the Region of Listuria to study at the Áurea Stella Academy, thanks to her outstanding academic performance.
The young ladies stood up and offered a slight bow, showing notable discipline in the student body, although Gretta noticed one of the girls making a slight sneer, unable to hide her hypocrisy.
The teacher turned to Gretta and addressed her gently, though firmly:
—Miss Gretta, etiquette dictates that upon entering a classroom, one must greet the present and introduce oneself before others greet you. You're new here, so I'll let it slide this time, but I won't overlook the fact that you're two minutes late. I will assign your penalty later.
Several laughs began to fill the room, silenced immediately by the teacher with a couple of sharp claps.
—I understand, Professor. It won't happen again —Gretta replied, bowing her head respectfully.
—Professor Margaret, to you, Miss Rizz —corrected the teacher with formality—. I have high expectations for you. Please, don't disappoint me. Now, does anyone wish to share their desk with our new student?
—The seat next to me is available, Professor Margaret! —exclaimed a beautiful student with long hair so blond it looked like golden rain.
—Perfect. Miss Rizz, please sit next to Miss Furriet, your new desk mate —the teacher instructed, gesturing to the double desk—. Thank you very much, Miss Furriet —she concluded with a bow.
As she approached the desk, Gretta wondered whether that enthusiastic offer was genuinely friendly or hiding a trap. So far, no student had shown real cordiality, and this one in particular projected such elegance and class that it created a certain distance due to her posture, beauty, and refined clothing.
The blonde girl's gaze reflected a mix of curiosity and awe, like someone finally meeting someone long admired.
Before sitting, Gretta decided to trust her instincts and introduced herself:
—Hi, my name is...
—Gretta Rizz, I know. I couldn't wait to meet you —the girl interrupted with a radiant smile.
Gretta was momentarily speechless, hoping this wasn't another vampire or some fantastic creature in disguise.
—And how do you know who I am? —she asked, shaking her head slightly, trying to clear her mind.
—Well, the teacher just introduced you a moment ago.
—Ah, right —Gretta replied, giving a sheepish smile as she realized it.
—But also, I deeply admire your family —she added enthusiastically—. They are known for their altruism. And even if they're not immensely wealthy, they've dedicated their resources to the common good. To many, including me, they are as noble as any aristocratic lineage. I'm fascinated by the deeds of Anastacia, one of your ancestors, how she fought the great plague five hundred years ago and saved thousands of lives...
Gretta was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed by the torrent of words but also relieved to find that this girl seemed normal… and genuinely kind.
—Thank you for your kindness —she said, taking advantage of the first pause to speak—. And you are...?
—Clammie. Clammie Furriet. It's an honor to meet you, Gretta.
—Professor Margaret, I request permission to make a comment —a firm voice interrupted suddenly.
The young woman who had frowned earlier stood up. Her expression was serious, and her tone, restrained but filled with intent. She was attractive, like most students at the academy, and slightly taller than Gretta. Her hair, long and black as coal, fell elegantly over her shoulders. Despite her fair skin, her face bore a slight sun-kissed tone. Her posture was impeccable, and her uniform perfectly neat.
The professor raised an eyebrow at her.
—Go ahead, Miss Gloriane. I hope it's relevant —she said with solemn calm.
—Yes, Professor. I find the admission of Miss Gretta Rizz to our institution inappropriate. I do not question her abilities, as I've yet to know her. However, I believe it would have been more suitable for her to train in one of the renowned academies near her native region, Listuria, as you have informed us.
Gretta watched her in silence, unsettled by her command of words. "It's them," she thought, recalling the girls she had seen whispering when she first entered the Institute. Before everything with Freyr had happened.
Áura Stella is a prestigious academy, known not only for its academic excellence and quality of teachers —Gloriane continued, briefly glancing at the professor with a courteous smile—, but also for hosting the daughters of the continent's most distinguished houses. My father, for example, is the Duke of Claemont. Among us are daughters of other dukes, marquises, counts... —she cast a direct look at Clammie—. Even of princes —she concluded, lifting her chin proudly.
Professor Margaret did not respond immediately. She looked at Gloriane first and then at Gretta, who seemed ready to speak. Defending her would change nothing. If she wanted to earn her place, she would have to do so with her own words.
Gretta stood up. She clenched her fists for a moment, then released them and spoke with a steady voice:
—It's true that I don't belong to a noble family —she said, glancing at Clammie, who gave her an encouraging smile—. But my lineage is also old and, above all, honorable. Throughout history, men and women in my family have worked tirelessly for the good of many.
She paused, took a deep breath, and continued:
—I may not have a title, but I'm not lacking in noble spirit. And I'm willing to prove it.
Clammie stood up, still smiling.
—I would also like to add —she said with elegance— that, as a sign of that nobility, Gretta chose not to mention that it was one of her ancestors, Dianne Rizz, who founded this academy with the support of noble allies, eighty-four years ago. Which, in my opinion at least, makes her one of the most deserving people to study at Áura Stella.
—She's right, Miss Furriet. As always, very precise with historical facts —commented Professor Margaret with a faint smile, not hiding her satisfaction with the maturity of her students—. Miss Gloriane, would you like to add anything else?
The girl cast them a look somewhere between contempt and reproach.
—No, Professor Margaret. Thank you for the opportunity —she said, but decided to sit down, conceding her defeat with grace.
Once seated, Gloriane crossed her legs with elegance and murmured with a barely drawn smile:
—Admirable response, Miss Rizz. I hope your eloquence is matched by true knowledge when evaluations come.
—Thanks for your support, Clammie —whispered Gretta, her heart still racing, but feeling a huge sense of relief.
—It was a pleasure. I have nothing personal against Gloriane. She's not a bad person, but she's very protective of social status —Clammie responded naturally, settling back into her seat.
—Are you two friends?
—Not exactly —Clammie replied—. But everyone knows their place. And we respect each other.
After that exchange, the class continued calmly. Gretta found herself drawn to Professor Margaret's eloquence, though she quickly noticed that history was clearly Clammie Furriet's favorite subject.
After some time, the professor raised a small bronze bell and rang it gently. The echo spread through the classroom, marking the end of the lesson. Clammie turned to Gretta while putting away her books.
—Are you okay? —she asked softly, with a sincere look.
Gretta nodded with a slight smile, still feeling the weight of what had happened in her chest.
—Thank you.
Clammie gave her a confirming nod, as if no more words were needed. Then, together, they exited into the hallway.
—You've got the envelope the director gave you, right? —Clammie asked, trying to soften the mood to help Gretta feel more at ease.
—Ah, yes. Here it is —Gretta replied, pulling it from her embroidered satchel with hands that still hadn't fully let go of the tension from earlier.
As she did, her gaze drifted toward the garden.
It wasn't a conscious decision.
It was an involuntary gesture, like someone searching for air without realizing it.
Ever since the encounter with Gloriane, something inside her hadn't quite returned to balance.
And though she didn't know if it was comfort or simply need, seeing Freyr's figure outlined among the rose bushes offered her a quiet breath... at the very least, a different tone to the rhythm of her unsettled heartbeat.
Crouched with natural grace, Freyr prepared the soil with simple tools, completely focused on his work. This time, so immersed in his task, he did not notice Gretta's lingering gaze on his back.
—Look, with this we can request some manuscripts from the library so that you… —Clammie paused as she noticed Gretta's mind wasn't with her. Her lips curved into a playful smile—. Handsome, isn't he?
Gretta snapped out of it, blushing slightly at being caught.
—Yes, he's kind —she replied, trying to play it cool without much success—. Do you know him?
—His name is Lucian. He's very gentlemanly, and many girls find him attractive, but you'd be wasting your time being interested. He's a eunuch.
—A eunuch? —Gretta repeated, frowning in confusion.
—Yes. In this girls' school, some men work in various roles, but most of them are eunuchs.
—I see —Gretta nodded slowly, understanding—. I thought it was strange not to see any boys in student uniforms.
—I see you really like history —she added, trying to shift the topic tactfully.
—More than like it, I find it fascinating —Clammie replied with a proud smile.
—Then you'll know that coming from Listuria, I belong to the most modest branch of the Rizz family —Gretta said, lowering her voice slightly—. We're almost a family apart...
She looked away, as if those words weighed more on her than she wanted to admit.
Clammie sensed the hidden fragility in her words. Despite the strength she had shown earlier, what Gloriane said had left a wound.
—It's still your lineage —she said warmly, leaning slightly toward her—. And with the little we've shared, I can already see that although you come from the most modest branch, the greatness of the Rizz shines strong in your blood.
The comment managed to draw a timid smile from Gretta.
The following hours vanished like minutes. Clammie showed her the dorms, recreational areas, the academy's protocols… Gretta discovered her classmate was the daughter of a prince, though she had a complicated relationship with her father, and though they had just met, it felt like a lifelong friendship was weaving itself in one single afternoon.
—I have a favorite place in this institution —Clammie said in a confidential tone—. It's a tower. You reach it through a somewhat hidden staircase. Will you come with me?
—I'd love to —Gretta replied enthusiastically.
They carefully climbed the spiral stone steps. Gretta, still afraid of breaking some rule, murmured:
—Are you sure we're allowed to do this, Clammie?
—Don't worry —her friend smiled—. The place is little known, but we're allowed to visit. No one strictly controls it.
When they reached the top, Gretta's eyes lit up.
The sky opened fully above them: the tower had no roof, and the stars shimmered in their entirety, free of all obstruction.
Gretta, used to watching them from the countryside, felt that here they seemed closer—almost within reach.
—Well? What do you think? —asked Clammie, noticing the wonder on her face.
Gretta didn't answer right away. She took a few slow steps toward the center, her heart pounding beneath the silence.
She had been there before.
She knew it by the way the wind spiraled, by how the stone crunched beneath her feet, by the precise way the stars seemed to gaze down at her.
It was the same place.
The top of the tower.
Where Freyr had taken her… though she didn't know how.
But she said nothing. She simply sat beside Clammie, letting the cold of the stone ground her body while her mind wandered.
—You can't imagine how much I love it... —she whispered, still staring at the sky.
They shared the silence as if it were a long, necessary word.
Clammie glanced at her sideways, without questions.
And Gretta kept her eyes on the stars, with a mix of wonder and something else...
something she couldn't name,
but could no longer ignore.
—Do you believe in vampires, Gretta?
The question dropped like a bucket of cold water. Gretta slowly lowered her head, her eyes widening as they met Clammie's gaze.
—Why do you ask, Clammie?
The blonde raised an eyebrow and, with an expression somewhere between mischievous and enigmatic, answered:
—I read a manuscript in my father's private library. It spoke of nightwalkers, immortal bloodlines… things like that. I didn't know if it was fantasy or something more.
A chill ran down Gretta's spine. She had managed to forget, for a moment, what she had lived with Freyr. But now, like a wave returning to shore, it all came back: the intense gaze, the deep voice, the whistle in her satchel. She had heard of vampires before—stories Hermes, a family friend, used to tell during family gatherings—but now, in this new context, those old tales took on a very different tone.
—I shouldn't trust him —she thought—. Not after what he said… how can I trust a creature of the night? But something in his voice calms me, wraps around me...
She hugged herself, sitting on the tiles, her eyes once again on the stars, though her mind was spinning, wrapped in a whirlwind of doubt and emotion.
A sudden flicker passed through Clammie's eyes. Her smile flickered, and her eyes, for a moment, went absent, as if she had lost the thread of the conversation.
Gretta leaned slightly toward her friend, feeling confused.
—Clammie?
The blonde blinked a few more times and brought a hand to her forehead, like someone who suddenly remembers a forgotten obligation.
—Oh… how careless of me —she murmured softly, her tone still kind but somewhat distant—. I promised to review some old writings for Professor Margaret tonight. I'd better leave before it gets any darker.
Gretta blinked, puzzled by the sudden change.
—Now? But… just a moment ago you said you had nothing pending.
—I'm really sorry, Gretta. It's about history, and Professor Margaret only trusts me with certain topics —Clammie said with a faint smile, quickly grabbing her satchel from the ground—. I promise we'll return here another day. I'd love to keep talking with you.
Before Gretta could ask another question, Clammie was already descending swiftly down the stone steps, without looking back. The echo of her footsteps faded little by little into the night's silence.
Gretta, now standing, watched her go, wondering whether she should follow. The tower returned to its usual calm, interrupted only by the whisper of the wind and the distant flicker of the stars.
—That was strange —she whispered to herself, her brow slightly furrowed.
That's when she sensed a presence behind her, one as subtle as the scent of roses at dusk.
—I didn't want to interrupt too soon… —said a familiar voice, deep and calm—. But I've waited all afternoon for a moment alone with you.
Gretta turned slowly. Standing among the shadows, Freyr watched her, his amber eyes glowing with restrained intensity.