The bus ride to St. Augustine had been long and monotonous, a blur of trees, road signs, and the occasional town that flickered by the window like forgotten postcards. By the time the iron gates came into view, tall and intimidating with the school's crest hammered into the black metal, Aurelia felt a strange knot twist in her stomach.
The crest read "Virtus in Tenebris"—virtue in darkness. Fitting, she thought, for a place that loomed like some relic of a gothic novel. The stone walls stretched high, ivy crawling like veins, as if nature itself tried to strangle the building and failed.
When the bus pulled to a stop, the chatter of students filled the air. Some carried luggage, others walked with the kind of confidence that only came from already belonging. Aurelia stepped down carefully, her suitcase clunking against the pavement. She tilted her head back, staring up at the massive facade of St. Augustine Boarding School, and for a fleeting second, she wondered if she had made a mistake by coming here at all.
She didn't have much time to think. The crowd surged forward, and she was swept along, following signs that directed new students toward the main hall.
Inside, the smell of polish and age hit her instantly. The floors gleamed with centuries of footsteps, portraits of grim-faced headmasters stared down from the walls, and the vaulted ceiling seemed too high for comfort. She walked past students who were hugging, laughing, and whispering as though secrets were as common as textbooks here.
Clutching the slip of paper with her room assignment, Aurelia's eyes darted between doors, numbers, and staircases that branched like a maze. She turned a corner too fast, not paying attention, and collided hard with someone. Her suitcase tilted, almost toppling over.
"Watch it," a sharp voice hissed.
Aurelia looked up into the strikingly cold eyes of a girl with glossy dark hair that cascaded in deliberate waves. She wore the uniform skirt shorter than regulation, her blouse fitted just enough to draw eyes. Around her neck was a delicate silver chain that glittered under the hall light. The way she stood—chin lifted, hands on hips—screamed authority.
"I—I'm sorry," Aurelia stammered.
The girl didn't step aside. She narrowed her eyes, scanning Aurelia from head to toe as though weighing her worth. "You must be new."
"I am."
A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Figures. Freshmen usually don't know where they're going. What's your name?"
"Aurelia."
The girl's gaze sharpened. "Aurelia." She repeated it like a test. "I'm Cecilia Roth. Remember it. People usually do."
There was a ripple in the air around her, as if the name itself carried weight. Aurelia didn't know how to respond, so she offered a polite, "Nice to meet you," and made a move to step past.
But Cecilia blocked her again, leaning in close enough that Aurelia caught a faint, expensive perfume. "Word of advice: be careful who you bump into around here. Not everyone is… forgiving."
Aurelia's throat went dry. Cecilia's eyes glittered with something sharp amusement, maybe cruelty. But then, as quickly as she appeared, she straightened, flipped her hair back, and walked away with the click of polished shoes against marble.
Aurelia exhaled, realizing only then that her heart had been pounding. She dragged her suitcase forward, eager to put distance between herself and that unsettling girl.
Finding the dorm wing was harder than she expected. St. Augustine was built like a fortress—endless staircases that spiraled into shadows, arched doorways that led to narrow corridors. She finally located her room, number 317, tucked at the end of a long hall where sunlight streamed weakly through stained-glass windows.
She unlocked the door and stepped inside.
The room wasn't large, but it was charming in an austere kind of way: two wooden beds, two desks, tall windows framed by heavy curtains. One bed was already occupied. A heap of clothes spilled from an open suitcase, notebooks stacked in precarious towers, and a bright pink throw blanket was spread across the mattress.
"Hi!"
Aurelia jumped. From behind the closet door emerged a girl with blonde curls tied in a messy bun. She wore the school blouse but had rolled the sleeves, and she smiled so warmly that the tension in Aurelia's chest loosened a fraction.
"You must be my roommate," the girl chirped, crossing the room in a few quick steps. "I'm Elena. Elena Moore."
"Aurelia," she replied, shaking her hand.
Elena grinned, as if the introduction sealed their fate as instant friends. "Pretty name. And wow, you're lucky, we've got one of the rooms with a view." She gestured toward the window. Aurelia looked, and sure enough, beyond the trees she could see the faint outline of the town below, rooftops glowing in the fading sun.
"It's… nice," Aurelia admitted, setting her suitcase on the bare bed.
Elena plopped onto her own. "So, tell me everything. Where are you from? Do you know anyone here? What's your story?"
Aurelia hesitated. She wasn't used to people being so open, so… inviting. "I'm from across state. And no, I don't know anyone. This is all… new."
"Well, lucky for you, I know practically everyone," Elena said with a wink. "And I can help you navigate who's who. Like, for starters..did you meet Cecilia Roth yet?"
Aurelia froze. "Actually, yes. Kind of."
Elena groaned, flopping back dramatically against her pillows. "Of course you did. She has a way of finding new blood before anyone else. Like a hawk circling prey."
"She seemed… intense," Aurelia said carefully.
"That's one word for it. Cecilia runs this place, socially, anyway. She decides what's cool, who's in, who's invisible. And she's obsessed with one person in particular." Elena's voice dropped conspiratorially. "Lucian. The mysterious golden boy."
The name lingered like smoke. Aurelia blinked. "Lucian?"
"Mm-hm. He's in our year. Tall, quiet, ridiculously good-looking—you'll know him when you see him. And Cecilia would literally sell her soul for his attention." Elena rolled her eyes. "It's kind of pathetic, honestly."
Aurelia tried not to show how curious she suddenly felt. She unpacked her books, sliding them onto the shelf above her desk. "What about you? How do you fit into all this?"
"Oh, me?" Elena sat up again, grinning. "I'm Switzerland. I'm friends with everyone, enemies with no one. It's easier that way. You'll see..people here love drama. And if you don't pick sides, you live longer."
The way she said it made Aurelia laugh, and for the first time since arriving, she felt a spark of comfort. Maybe she could survive this place after all.
Dinner was a noisy affair in the cavernous dining hall. Long tables stretched beneath chandeliers, and the air buzzed with voices. Elena dragged Aurelia along, introducing her to people with ease. Most smiled politely, though some gave her the kind of quick, assessing glances that made her skin prickle.
Cecilia was there, of course, seated at the center of a table surrounded by her followers. She didn't look Aurelia's way, but Aurelia felt the weight of her presence nonetheless, heavy and watchful.
After the meal, Aurelia and Elena returned to their room, the corridors quieter now. The school seemed to hum with secrets at night—the creak of old wood, the distant echo of laughter, the flicker of lamps casting long shadows.
Aurelia lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Elena had already dozed off, her breathing steady, but Aurelia's mind wouldn't rest. She thought about Cecilia's warning glare, Elena's words about Lucian, and the strange, charged atmosphere that clung to the school like mist.
She pulled the blanket tighter around her and closed her eyes.
Tomorrow, classes would begin. Tomorrow, she'd see just how different St. Augustine truly was.
And as she drifted toward sleep, one thought lingered, sharp and unsettling: What kind of things were waiting for her here?