The Academy of High Arts and Nobility stood atop the Silverhill cliffs, a towering fortress of marble and glass, where the kingdom's elite sent their daughters to be groomed for court life—or war.
Seraphina stepped from the royal carriage, her black cloak fluttering in the salt-swept wind. A dozen noble girls whispered as she passed.
"She's dressed like a widow."
"Isn't that the cursed princess?"
"She didn't smile at anyone..."
She didn't care.
This school was where her enemies bloomed.
Lady Kassandra Renmoor—the serpent who would poison her friends.
Madame Corvae—the headmistress who sold secrets for gold.
And worse, the academy was where she let her guard down in her first life.
Not this time.
---
That night, while the other girls giggled and gossiped in the dormitory, Seraphina stood alone in front of her window, overlooking the dark forest beyond the academy walls.
Something was wrong.
A chill crept down her spine.
Then… the glass fogged—from the outside.
She narrowed her eyes.
A handprint appeared. Slowly. Cold. Deliberate.
Her heart jumped.
She yanked the window open.
No one.
But far below, between the trees, a shadow moved.
Not walked. Not ran. Moved—unnatural, smooth, like smoke slipping through cracks.
And then… he appeared.
The man in black.
He stood at the edge of the trees, still cloaked, face hidden. Staring straight at her window.
She whispered through clenched teeth, "What do you want from me?"
The wind answered with silence.
Then… a white raven burst into the air from behind him—uncommon in this land. Its wings left a trail of ash.
When she looked again, the man was gone.
---
The next morning, a note appeared under her pillow. She hadn't heard anyone enter.
The parchment was black. The ink, crimson.
> "You are not the only one who remembers."
Seraphina's breath caught.
Someone else had lived another life.
And they were watching her every move.