Seraphina didn't sleep.
She tried. She lay perfectly still under the cold black sheets, counting the cracks in the ceiling and the flickers of moonlight that slipped past the tall window. But the mirror kept pulsing across the room. Not glowing. Not moving. Just... humming. As if it were alive and waiting.
Every time her eyes fluttered shut, the voice came back. The whisper.
You're next.
By morning, the edges of her vision felt paper-thin. She dressed in the stiff Empire High uniform—black pleated skirt, long-sleeved blouse, and a dark jacket with silver trim. The collar felt like it belonged to someone else. Someone colder.
There was a silver pin waiting on her desk.
A blank one.
Everyone else had symbols: flame, leaf, water drop, star, smoke.
Hers? Just silver.
Unclaimed.
She pinned it on anyway.
The hallways were alive by the time she stepped out. Students in perfectly tailored uniforms moved with purpose. Some floated their books. Some disappeared and reappeared between shadows. Others eyed her.
The stares weren't subtle. They followed her like a ripple.
She was the girl from the gate. The outsider. The cursed one.
Her first class was in the West Wing—Elemental Theory. Room 3-C. The school map flickered magically as she walked, shifting routes, occasionally offering cryptic advice like, "Don't take the green staircase after the bell."
She made it to the room just as the second chime rang.
The classroom was carved stone and glass, filled with floating glyphs and a long obsidian board behind the professor's desk. Dozens of students already filled the seats. Not a single face smiled when she entered.
Only one watched her too closely.
Elijah.
He was in the second row, arms crossed, gaze unreadable. Beside him sat a girl with a cascade of red curls and a fire-shaped pin. She didn't look friendly.
Sera took a seat at the far end of the row.
Professor Vellum entered seconds later, wearing a robe embroidered with elemental symbols. His eyes were completely white, glowing faintly, but he didn't walk like a blind man.
"Welcome, young wielders," he said, his voice layered with something ancient. "Today, we begin with the essence of balance."
He raised his hand.
Fire ignited at his fingertips, a perfect flame hovering in his palm.
"Each of you has a birthright—an elemental thread that defines your House, your magic, your soul. Fire. Water. Earth. Aether."
Whispers spread across the room.
He turned to the board, and with a single wave, four glowing House symbols floated above him.
"You will learn your affinities in time, but some of you already feel it. You dream of oceans. You tremble with storms. Your bones ache near stone."
His glowing eyes met Sera's.
"And some of you... bring balance through something else entirely."
The room quieted.
Sera sat still, heart pounding.
"Today," Vellum continued, "we test your thresholds. One by one. You will approach the Stone of Origin and place your palm against its core."
He tapped his staff on the floor.
The wall behind him shimmered and gave way to a massive orb of translucent crystal. It pulsed with a rainbow of light, then dulled to a waiting gray.
Students were called one by one. When they touched the Stone, colors flared.
Red for fire. Blue for water. Green. Silver. Violet.
Elijah's turn came. He stepped forward and placed his hand on the stone.
A deep shadow pulsed from the orb. The lights in the room dimmed. Whispers shuddered across the walls.
He returned to his seat like it was nothing.
Then: "Seraphina Cole."
Every head turned.
She swallowed hard and stood.
Her shoes echoed as she walked across the stone floor. The orb loomed ahead, twice her height, ancient and humming. She hesitated, then pressed her hand to the surface.
Nothing happened.
No color. No warmth. Just cold.
Then—a crack.
A line split down the orb. Darkness bled from inside, snaking around her wrist like ink.
Gasps erupted.
Professor Vellum staggered back. "Enough. Remove your hand."
She pulled away. The crack sealed itself. The room buzzed with silence.
No color had appeared.
Only shadow.
And when she looked at her palm—a faint black mark curled beneath her skin. A sigil she couldn't read.
Whispers followed her for the rest of the day.
She didn't see Elijah again until lunch, when she wandered outside to the garden path and found him alone on a bench, book in hand.
"Don't get too comfortable," he said, not looking up.
She folded her arms. "What did the mark mean?"
He shut the book slowly.
"It means you're not aligned with any of the four Houses. It means you're not elemental. You're something older."
"Is that why the Stone cracked?"
"The Stone doesn't crack. Not unless it recognizes a shadow-bound lineage."
She sat beside him.
"What does that mean for me?"
He looked at her then. Not cold. Not mocking. Just... sad.
"It means this curse didn't choose you randomly. It was waiting for you."
Later that evening, Sera wandered into the Mirror Hall—a forbidden corridor lined with enchanted glass. Each mirror whispered memories. Past students. Past mistakes.
One mirror shimmered as she approached.
Inside it: her reflection. But older. Hollow-eyed. Drenched in shadow.
It whispered her name.
She turned and fled.
But even as her feet pounded down the hall, her reflection's voice followed.
You're not next, Seraphina.
You're the end.