Chapter Two — The Rules of Blackwood
The first morning of classes came with a soft drizzle.
Gray clouds pressed low over the rooftops as students hurried across the cobblestone paths, coffee cups steaming in their hands. Atlas clutched her map of campus, trying not to look lost — though, judging by the number of wrong turns she'd taken, she definitely was.
"New student?" a calm voice asked behind her.
She turned to see a tall boy in a gray sweater, holding a stack of books. His smile was easy, the kind that made people instantly trust him.
"Yeah," Atlas admitted. "Does it show that much?"
He chuckled. "A little. I'm Connor."
"Atlas."
"I figured." He nodded toward her schedule. "You've got Professor Lewis for Science Basics, right? Same here. Come on — I'll show you the way before she starts her ten-minute rant about punctuality."
Atlas followed, grateful for the company. The halls were lined with portraits of old scholars whose painted eyes seemed to follow them. A faint chill ran through her.
"You'll get used to the atmosphere," Connor said, noticing her glance. "Everyone says it feels like the walls are listening."
"That's comforting," she muttered.
He smiled. "You'll survive. Just remember one thing — never forget your ID after dark. Campus security is strict about it."
---
At the classroom door, Professor Lewis was already scribbling formulas on the board — her energy sharp, focused.
"Welcome, everyone. Before we begin," she said briskly, "I'd like to remind new students that Blackwood University follows a strict code."
She handed out a small folded pamphlet labeled Rules and Regulations.
Atlas opened it.
Most of it was ordinary — attendance, dress code, safety protocol.
But one rule caught her eye:
> Rule 13: Unexplained disturbances or hazardous occurrences must be reported immediately to administration. Failure to do so will result in disciplinary action.
She frowned. Unexplained disturbances?
What kind of rule was that for a normal university?
"Everything alright?" Connor whispered.
"Yeah," she said quickly, folding the paper. "Just… weird wording."
He shrugged. "It's Blackwood. Half the rules don't make sense until you've been here long enough."
Atlas laughed softly but couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to it.
---
After class, Lila met her outside the lab.
"Survived your first lecture?" she asked cheerfully.
"Barely. I almost mixed up my class building twice."
"Don't worry — you'll get used to it." Lila looped her arm through hers. "Come on, we're getting coffee before the afternoon classes. There's this small café near the library — their caramel latte could fix anything, including depression."
They walked through the tree-lined path, the scent of wet earth filling the air. A few students sat under umbrellas reading, others laughing in groups. It all seemed so normal.
But then — just for a second — Atlas's vision blurred. The trees bent oddly, like their shadows had moved before their trunks. Her pendant pulsed against her skin again, faintly warm.
She blinked, and everything returned to normal.
"You okay?" Lila asked.
"Yeah… must be tired."
---
At the café, the noise of espresso machines and chatter surrounded them. The warmth of it made Atlas's unease fade a little.
That was, until someone new entered.
The sound around them seemed to quiet when he walked in — dark hair, sharp eyes, an aura that seemed both dangerous and magnetic. He moved with the effortless confidence of someone used to attention.
Lila leaned closer, whispering, "That's Damien Blackwell. Captain of the track team, top of his class… and completely impossible."
Atlas tried not to stare. But there was something about him — like the world subtly shifted around his presence.
He caught her glance for half a second — and smiled.
Just a small, knowing curve of his lips before turning away.
Atlas quickly looked down at her coffee, heat rising to her cheeks.
"See?" Lila teased. "Told you he's dangerous."
Atlas laughed nervously. "He's just a person."
But her pendant pulsed again — warmer this time.
And deep down, she knew Damien Blackwell was anything but normal.
---
That night, back in her dorm, Atlas set her books down and sat on her bed.
The pamphlet from earlier peeked out of her bag. She unfolded it again and read Rule 13 one more time.
Her fingers traced the words slowly, her heart inexplicably uneasy.
As if the rule wasn't just written for her —
but because of her.