CHAPTER 1 _ RAVENWOOD {SCHOOL}
The bus stopped with silence ,
Amara pressed her forehead against the window, staring at the endless forest outside. The driver muttered something under his breath, pounded the steering wheel, then turned toward her with a shrug Smile
Here we are"
Before she could protest, the doors hissed open.
A cold mist rolled in, seeping into her lungs. Amara hesitated, clutching her suitcase tighter. She was the only passenger. The only one left.
The driver didn't wait. As soon as she stepped onto the wet asphalt, the doors snapped shut. The bus groaned forward, disappearing into the fog air until only the faint roar of its engine lingered away. Then silence.
She was alone.
The road stretched forward, cracked and uneven, swallowed by shadow. At the end, the gates of Ravenwood school rose, black and iron, sharp as fangs against the gray sky. The forest pressed close on either side, trees skeletal and twisted, their branches clawing at the air.
Her heart thudded in her chest. Each step echoed too loudly on the wet road.
When she reached the gates, she paused, expecting to push them open.
But they moved on their own.
With a slow, groaning creak, the doors parted just wide enough for her to slip inside.
The courtyard was vast, cobblestones slick with rain. Puddles reflected the towering building ahead Ravenwood Academy. Its spires pierced the clouds, windows glowing faintly like watchful eyes. Most shutters were closed, but Amara couldn't shake the feeling that someone, or something, was peering down at her from the darkened panes.
The air was too still. with bird chirping noise and a breath of cool wind. with silence, pressing heavy against her skin.
Then a bell rang.
One long, low note.
It vibrated through the stones beneath her feet, through her bones, through the very air she breathed. She clutched her suitcase tighter, forcing herself forward.
At the top of the steps stood a woman, tall and veiled in White overall
The Headmistress.
"Amara," she said softly, though her voice carried as if the mist itself delivered the sound. "We've been expecting you."
Amara hesitated. Her throat felt dry. "I ,I didn't know anyone would be here to meet me."
The Headmistress tilted her head, a gesture too slow, too deliberate. "At Ravenwood school, we always know when a new one arrives."
The massive doors groaned open behind her, releasing a draft of air colder than the mist. It smelled of cold atmosphere, damp earth, and something metallic. The taste of it clung to Amara's tongue.
Her suitcase wheels rattled against the stone as she followed the Headmistress inside.
The entryway stretched like a cathedral, ceilings lost in shadow. Along the walls hung portraits students in Ravenwood uniforms.
Dozens of them.
Their eyes followed her as she walked. Not in the way paintings sometimes seemed alive, but in the way real eyes tracked movement. The hairs on her arms rose.
She slowed at one painting. A girl, pale and hollow-eyed, with lips tinted faintly blue. The brass plate beneath bore a name Amara didn't recognize.
Her chest tightened.
The girl's painted lips moved.
Amara froze.
Run.
The whisper was faint, but clear. Her suitcase slipped from her fingers, landing hard against the floor.
The sound echoed.
She staggered back, heart hammering. The girl in the painting stared back at her with wide, pleading eyes.
Amara opened her mouth to scream
But the Headmistress's voice cut through the silence.
"Your dormitory awaits," she said, calm as ever, not turning back.
Amara tore her eyes from the painting and scrambled to pick up her suitcase. Her legs trembled as she forced herself to follow.
The doors behind them closed with a booming finality.
The sound rippled through the hall, shaking the portraits ever so slightly, as though they exhaled in unison.
And in the silence that followed, Amara heard it.
Whispers.
From the walls. From the paintings. From the shadows themselves.
She's here.
She's ours.
CHAPTER 2 – THE DORMITORY LOUNGE
The Headmistress's steps were soundless, though the echo of Amara's suitcase wheels rattled behind her like a constant reminder that she didn't belong.
They climbed a staircase that seemed to go on too long, the air growing heavier the higher they rose. At every landing, candles flickered inside iron sconces. Their flames leaned inward as if bowing toward Amara as she passed.
When they finally stopped, the Headmistress gestured toward a door at the end of a narrow hall.
"This is yours."
The brass plate on the wood bore her name, etched in jagged letters that didn't look carved but scratched.
Amara's hand trembled as she reached for the handle. The metal was icy.
Inside, the dormitory room was plain almost too plain. A narrow bed, a desk facing a tall window, and a wardrobe with its door slightly ajar. Dust clung to the corners, as though no one had lived here for years.
On the bed lay a folded uniform, black with silver trim and a long tie Beside it sat a candle already lit, though she hadn't touched it. The flame bent toward her as if acknowledging her arrival.
Her chest tightened.
The Headmistress's voice followed her inside. "The rules are simple. Lights out at midnight. Curfew is absolute. And above all, Amara never open your window after dark."
Amara turned, but the woman was already gone. The door clicked shut.
The silence that followed was too thick, too sharp.
She forced herself to unpack, placing a few books and clothes into the wardrobe. The mirror inside was cracked. Her reflection stared back with fractured edges.
She shut it quickly.
A knock startled her.
When she opened the door, two girls stood in the hall, both in Ravenwood uniforms.
The taller one smiled warmly, her glossy black hair tied in a perfect braid. "You must be Amara. I'm Celeste."
The smaller girl beside her had wild curls and sharp, restless eyes. "Mara."
Amara managed a small smile. "Hi."
Celeste stepped forward, her tone gentle but rehearsed. "You're lucky to have this room. Most of us share."
Mara tilted her head, gaze darting past Amara into the room. "They put you in that one?"
Celeste's smile stiffened. "Don't start."
"What?" Mara's smirk widened. "She should know."
Amara frowned. "Know what?"
Celeste looped her arm through Amara's, her grip firmer than expected. "Ignore her. She likes to scare people."
Mara leaned against the doorframe, eyes gleaming. "Do you hear them yet?"
Amara's pulse quickened. "Hear who ,what?"
"The whispers." Mara's smile was thin. "They always find the new ones first."
Before Amara could answer, Celeste tugged her into the hall. "Come on. The others will want to meet you."
The common lounge buzzed with low murmurs. Students sat in clusters, their uniforms crisp, their faces pale in the candlelight. A few glanced at Amara as she entered new face ,eyes curious but distant, as if they already knew more about her than they should.
Celeste introduced her around, but names slid past Amara like water. Too many eyes followed her. Too many whispers seemed to curl beneath the actual voices.
Mara appeared at her side, voice low. "Don't drink the milk."
Amara blinked. "What?"
Mara pointed at the glass in her hand. Its surface shimmered faintly, like oil.
Amara set it down quickly.
Celeste's smile returned, sharp at the edges. "Superstitions. Pay them no mind."
But Amara noticed Celeste hadn't touched her own glass either.
The grandfather clock struck nine. The sound was too loud, too heavy. For a moment, all conversation stopped.
And that was when she heard it.
Faint at first. A whisper sliding through her ears.
Amara…
Her skin went cold. She glanced around, but no one else seemed to hear. Students carried on with their quiet chatter. Only Mara's sharp eyes flicked toward her knowingly.
We see you.
The whisper grew louder, curling through the back of her skull.
Amara's hand trembled on the armrest.
And then she saw him.
At the far side of the room, standing near the staircase.
The masked boy.
Still. Watching.
Her breath caught. She blinked
And he was gone.
But the whisper lingered, sharp and certain.
She's ours now.
CHAPTER 3 DARK VOICE'S
The candle by Amara's bed guttered though no wind touched it. She lay awake, staring at the ceiling beams that twisted like dark fingers above her.
Every creak of the old building felt amplified. A faint drip echoed from somewhere down the hall, steady and maddening.
She pulled the blanket tighter. Sleep wouldn't come.
The Headmistress's warning returned to her mind,
coiling like a noose.
"Never open your window after dark".
Her eyes slid toward it anyway tho her mind still reminiscing 0ver.
The tall window loomed across the room, its panes silver with moonlight. The curtains trembled though the glass was closed. For a heartbeat, she thought she saw a shadow move across the glass from the outside.
She froze.
A whisper slid against her ear.
Amara…..
She sat up, heart pounding. "Who's there?"
Silence with no voices
Then another whisper, lower, closer.
Do you want to belong?
Her breath hitched. "What?"
The candle sputtered violently and died. Darkness swallowed the room.
Amara scrambled for matches, hands shaking. When the flame finally sparked, the mirror on her wardrobe caught her eye.
Something moved in it.
Not her reflection something behind her.
She turned fast. Nothing. Only the empty bed, the closed door, the quivering shadows.
The whisper returned, sharper this time.
Don't look away…
Her skin prickled. The air grew colder. She swore she felt breath against the back of her neck.
And then
Knock.
A single knock at the door.
Her chest locked. Slowly, she moved closer, every step heavy.
"Celeste?" she whispered. "Mara?"
No answer.
Another knock. Louder.
Her hand hovered over the handle.
And then silence.
Amara backed away, pulse racing. She climbed onto her bed, curling her knees to her chest.
The silence stretched too long.
Until she heard it.
A soft scraping sound at the window.
Her stomach dropped.
Against her better judgment, her gaze snapped toward it.
The masked boy stood outside, face pressed against the glass, his hand dragging across it in slow, deliberate lines.
Amara's scream caught in her throat. She stumbled backward, slamming into the wardrobe.
The boy tilted his head. The mask gleamed in the moonlight expressionless, hollow-eyed.
And then he lifted his finger.
On the glass, in the condensation, a single word appeared.
MINE.
Her candle went out.
Darkness swallowed her whole.
CHAPTER 4 – LESSON IN SHADOWS
The morning bell jolted Amara awake. She hadn't realized she'd fallen asleep, slumped against her own imaginatin. The memory of the masked boy's word on her window MINE still burned in her chest.
She checked the glass as dawn light spilled into the room. It was clean. No writing. No trace of him at all.
Still, the dread lingered.
In the dining hall, long tables stretched beneath chandeliers, but the food was pale and strange bread too white, eggs too watery. Conversations floated around her, but when she glanced at groups of students laughing, their eyes always flicked toward her before snapping away, too quickly.
Celeste waved her over. "Sit with us."
Amara forced a smile and slid onto the bench. Mara sat across, chewing slowly, eyes sharp as ever. Next to Celeste was another girl Amara hadn't met before a blonde with a flawless smile and a velvet ribbon around her neck
"This is Evelyn," Celeste said.
Evelyn's smile widened. "We've heard about you already."
Amara's fork paused. "You have?"
"They always talk about the new ones," Mara muttered.
Celeste shot her a glare. "Don't listen. She likes to be dramatic."
But Evelyn leaned closer, voice low. "She's not entirely wrong."
Amara swallowed hard.
The first lesson was in an enormous hall, its walls lined with portraits of past Headmistresses. Their eyes seemed to follow Amara as she took her seat. The teacher a pale man in a long coat didn't write on the chalkboard. Instead, he spoke in a voice that scratched the air like dry paper.
"History is written in whispers. And here, whispers are truth."
Amara shivered. Around her, students nodded solemnly as if this made perfect sense.
She opened her notebook, but when she glanced down, the page wasn't blank. Words had appeared in a faint, spidery script.
Don't trust the ones who smile too much.
Her stomach dropped. She looked up quickly, scanning the room. No one else seemed alarmed.
Celeste leaned over, her smile gentle. "First days are always strange. Don't let it get to you."
But when Amara met her eyes, she noticed something. For just a second, Celeste's pupils flickered silver like candlelight reflecting in water.
By the second lesson, Amara couldn't shake the unease. Evelyn whispered to her constantly, little jokes, little nudges, like a friend eager to bond. But beneath her sweetness, there was something too sharp, too eager.
During lunch, Mara found her alone near the courtyard. "They're not your friends," she said flatly.
Amara frowned. "Who?"
"All of them." Mara's gaze darted to the others in the distance. "They only play nice until the school decides what to do with you."
Amara's throat tightened. "What do you mean?"
Mara stepped closer. Her voice dropped. "Did you see him yet?"
The question slammed into Amara's chest.
She froze.
Mara studied her face, then smirked knowingly. "You have."
Amara tried to speak, but the words tangled in her throat.
Before she could respond, the bell rang again.
The next class was Literature. The teacher instructed them to read aloud from a thick, leather-bound book. When it was Amara's turn, she opened to her marked page.
Her hands shook.
The passage in her book wasn't the same as the others.
Her page read:
We are waiting. Tonight, she opens the window.
Amara's voice faltered. The teacher frowned. Celeste leaned in, whispering gently, "Wrong page."
But Mara, across the room, was smiling.
CHAPTER 5 _ RITUAL OF SILENCE
The bell rang differently that evening. Not the clear iron toll that marked the end of lessons, but a low, resonant hum that vibrated through the stone halls. Students immediately began packing their things without a word.
Amara frowned. "What's happening?"
Celeste stood gracefully, smoothing her skirt. "The Ritual of Silence."
Amara blinked. "What's that?"
Evelyn, sitting nearby, gave her a knowing smile. "You'll see."
They filed into the courtyard. Candles lit every corner, their flames bending inward toward the fountain at the center. The fountain itself wasn't filled with water, but with dark liquid that smelled faintly metallic.
Students gathered in a circle. No one spoke. Even the air seemed to hold its breath.
The Headmistress appeared on the stone steps, her robes heavy and her face unreadable. With a raised hand, the crowd dropped to their knees.
Amara hesitated, but Celeste tugged her arm down. "Do it," she whispered.
The Headmistress's voice carried like a blade. "Ravenwood stands because we listen. We do not defy. We do not question. We endure."
The students echoed her words in perfect unison, their voices soft and chilling.
Amara's skin prickled.
Then the Headmistress turned toward the fountain. From within her sleeve, she produced a silver chalice and dipped it into the dark liquid.
Evelyn nudged Amara with a smile too sweet. "You'll drink last. Tradition."
Amara's pulse thudded.
One by one, the chalice passed around the circle. Each student drank without hesitation, lips touching the rim reverently. When it reached Mara, she paused, eyes flicking toward Amara. Then she smirked and drank deeply.
The chalice finally reached Amara.
She hesitated, staring into the dark liquid. It rippled faintly though she hadn't moved it. For a moment, she thought she saw words forming on the surface letters writhing like insects.
Open the window tonight.
Her breath caught.
"Drink," Celeste whispered firmly beside her. "Everyone's watching."
Hands trembled, Amara lifted the chalice. The liquid touched her lips, bitter and coppery. She forced herself to swallow.
The moment it slid down her throat, the courtyard erupted with sound. Whispers not voices, not cheers whispers filling the air from every direction.
She drank. She is one of us.
Amara staggered, clutching her chest. No one else seemed fazed. The other students simply bowed their heads, serene.
The Headmistress raised her arms. "The Silence is complete. Tomorrow begins anew."
And just like that, it was over. Students rose, chatting quietly now, as if nothing strange had happened.
Celeste smiled at Amara. "See? Nothing to fear."
But Amara's stomach churned. The bitter taste lingered on her tongue, and in her ears, the whispers had not stopped.
As the crowd dispersed, Mara brushed past her, whispering only two words.
"Don't sleep."
CHAPTER 6_ THE TAINTED LESSON
Amara had barely slept. The whispers from the night of the Ritual of Silence clung to her ears like cobwebs she couldn't brush away. Every time she thought she drifted off, she heard her name hissed just above her pillow. When she opened her eyes, nothing was there only the heavy shadows pressing against the corners of her room.
By morning, her limbs felt heavy as lead. She dragged herself down the corridor toward her first class, the smell of melted wax still clinging to her hair and clothes.
The History Hall was vast, lined with portraits of past headmistresses. Their painted eyes seemed sharper in the daylight, their lips curved into the faintest smirks, as if they knew she was already unraveling.
Professor Alaric entered, tall and gaunt, his coat sweeping behind him like a shadow. He didn't greet the students. He never did. Instead, he began speaking in that papery, bone-dry voice of his:
"History is obedience. Memory is control. Ravenwood exists because of those who obeyed."
The chalkboard behind him remained untouched. Yet words began to scorch themselves across the black surface, glowing faintly like embers.
Only those who open will endure.
Amara's pen hovered above her notebook. She hadn't written a single word, but ink bled across the page on its own.
Do not resist tonight.
Her pulse quickened. She shut the notebook so fast the sound made Celeste glance at her.
"You're pale," Celeste murmured, her smile gentle but watchful. "The ritual unsettled you, didn't it?"
Amara nodded stiffly. "Maybe."
From behind them, Mara's voice cut in, flat and sharp. "She's pale because the school's already inside her head."
"Quiet," Celeste hissed, flashing her a glare.
Mara leaned back, smirking. "What? You know it's true."
Professor Alaric's droning continued, as if their whispers meant nothing. "The first lesson Ravenwood demands of its pupils is surrender. Surrender your doubts, your fears, your defiance. Only then can you see the truth."
The students scribbled obediently. Amara looked around. Their faces were blank, their hands moving in unison, as though they weren't even thinking.
Her stomach churned.
By the time the bell rang, she felt colder than when she'd entered.
Literature class wasn't any better. The room smelled faintly of dust and mildew. Their teacher, Madame Sylth, glided to the front in long black gloves that covered her arms up to the elbows. She carried a book bound in cracked leather.
"Words are doors," she said softly. "Some must never be opened."
She instructed them to turn to page 113. Amara's hands trembled as she opened her own copy.
The text on her page was different. No poetry, no lesson only lines that bled across the page like fresh ink.
We are waiting. Tonight, she opens the window.
Her chest seized.
Celeste nudged her elbow. "You're on the wrong page."
But across the room, Mara was staring directly at her, tapping her own book with a slow, deliberate rhythm. Her lips moved soundlessly. Amara squinted to read them.
Don't read aloud.
"Amara," Madame Sylth's voice cut sharply. "Read the passage."
Amara's throat went dry. Her book's ink shimmered, words writhing across the page.
"I… I don't think this is
"Read," Madame Sylth snapped.
The room went silent. Dozens of eyes drilled into her. Even Celeste and Evelyn seemed tense now.
Amara swallowed, her voice trembling. "We… are waiting. Tonight… she opens the window."
The moment the words left her mouth, the air shifted. A low hum shivered through the floorboards. Several candles guttered, flames bending sideways.
Madame Sylth's expression didn't change. "Good," she said calmly. "Now sit."
But Amara swore the faintest smile had curved across the teacher's lips.
By afternoon, her head throbbed. The side effects of the ritual pressed harder now: shadows rippling along the stone walls, faint screams echoing just beyond the edges of her hearing. She stumbled through the courtyard, clutching her notebook to her chest.
Mara appeared suddenly, almost as if she'd been waiting. "You heard them in class, didn't you?"
Amara stopped, her breath unsteady. "You knew this would happen."
"Of course." Mara's smirk faded into something colder. "You drank. Once you drink, you're theirs."
"Whose?" Amara whispered.
Mara leaned in, her eyes glittering. "Not what. Who. Ravenwood isn't haunted by ghosts. It's fed by those who came before."
Amara shivered.
That evening, as she sat in her dorm, her notebook pulsed faintly under her hand. She opened it, dread pooling in her chest.
New words stretched across the page in jagged script:
She obeyed. She belongs.
The candle sputtered violently. The window creaked.
And when she looked up, she swore she saw pale fingers brushing against the glass from the outside.
CHAPTER 7 – THE LIBRARY ECHOES
The storm came without warning.
By evening, the sky above Ravenwood was a bruise of gray and violet, thunder rolling like a beast circling the castle. Students hurried through the halls toward their dorms, voices hushed, as though even the weather demanded silence.
Amara lingered in the corridor, clutching her books. With the mentality of Leaving this Whole Ravenwood and going back reminising through her taught . Her chest still hummed from Literature, from the words she'd been forced to read aloud. The memory gnawed at her. We are waiting. Tonight, she opens the window.
She had sworn not to. But every whisper, every flicker of her candle, every ripple in her notebook begged otherwise.
"Lost?"
Amara jumped. Celeste stood behind her, smiling faintly. Her braid was damp with rain.
"I was just… walking," Amara said quickly.
Celeste tilted her head, her smile soft but strange. "You should be careful. Certain corridors lead where they shouldn't."
Before Amara could ask, Celeste pressed a folded slip of paper into her hand. Then she walked away, heels clicking against the stone, her figure melting into the shadows.
Amara unfolded the note. In looping handwriting it read:
The answers you want are in the library. Midnight. Don't come alone.
Her pulse spiked. She glanced around, but the hall was empty.
The library was a cavern of shelves and shadows. By day it smelled of parchment and dust. By night, it breathed like a living thing. Candles floated high above, their flames swaying though no breeze stirred.
Mara waited by the door. "I knew she'd send you."
Amara's fingers tightened on the note. "Celeste?"
Mara smirked. "She likes to play savior. Don't trust her. But the library… yes, it hides things."
Together they slipped inside. The silence was thick, pressing against Amara's ears until she swore she could hear her own heartbeat echo.
They walked past rows of ancient tomes, some bound in cracked leather, others wrapped in chains. Amara trailed her fingers along the spines. One book shivered beneath her touch. She yanked her hand back.
"Here," Mara whispered, stopping at a section where the shelves curved inward, forming a hidden alcove. A single desk sat beneath a vast stained-glass window. Its glass depicted a woman in robes, arms raised, surrounded by students kneeling in worship. The woman's face looked disturbingly like the Headmistress.
On the desk lay an open ledger. Its pages were filled with names written in blood-red ink. Some were crossed out. Some glowed faintly as if alive.
Amara leaned closer. Her throat tightened when she saw her own name at the bottom. Unmarked. Waiting.
Her knees weakened. "What is this?"
Mara's eyes darkened. "It's the truth. The ritual doesn't bless us it binds us. Every student who drinks is written into the book. Ravenwood owns us."
The words sank like stones into Amara's chest.
A whisper slithered across the shelves.
Amara…
Her blood froze. The voice wasn't just in her head anymore. It moved around them, circling the alcove in the liibary
Mara stiffened. "He's here."
The candle flames dimmed. From between the shelves, a figure emerged tall, silent, his face hidden behind the pale mask.
The boy.
Amara stumbled back, her heart hammering. "You
He raised a finger to his mask. The gesture silenced her words.
Mara grabbed her wrist. "Don't look at him too long."
But Amara couldn't look away. The boy's presence was magnetic, suffocating. Shadows bent toward him, clinging to his body like smoke. He moved closer, slow, deliberate.
The ledger on the desk snapped shut with a deafening thud. The stained-glass window trembled.
And then Amara heard it his voice, not spoken aloud but inside her chest.
You drank. You belong. But you are not ready.
Her breath caught. "Ready for what?" she whispered.
Mara yanked her hand. "Don't talk to him!"
The boy tilted his head. His mask gleamed in the candlelight. He raised his hand and pressed it flat against the ledger. The book glowed, Amara's name pulsing red.
Pain seared through her chest like a brand. She gasped, collapsing to her knees.
Mara dropped beside her, shouting, "Stop it!" But the boy didn't move.
The whispers rose around them, deafening now, overlapping voices:
Open the window. Open. Open. Open.
Amara clutched her chest, tears stinging her eyes. The boy leaned close. For the first time, his mask shifted cracks spreading across it, revealing a glimpse of lips beneath.
He whispered directly into her ear.
At midnight, you choose.
And just as quickly as he came, he was gone. The shelves stilled. The whispers died.
Amara's chest still burned. She touched her skin, expecting to find blood, but there was nothing. Only the echo of his words.
Mara's eyes were wide, her voice low and urgent. "He's marking you. And once he marks you, there's no way back."
Amara's hands trembled. She stared at the ledger, her name glowing faintly in the dark.
At midnight, you choose.
Chapter 8_ THE Midnight
Morning came, but sunlight did not.
The sky above Ravenwood was strangled by storm clouds, thick and heavy, their weight pressing down on the old castle. The halls buzzed faintly with gossip, yet there was something brittle in the air, like glass waiting to shatter.
Amara walked through the corridor, her books held close. Every step seemed louder than it should be. Whispers followed her strange ones, not just gossip, but the same voices from the library the night before.
She belongs now. She cannot run.
When she turned sharply, expecting someone, the hall was empty.
The first class of the day was Philosophy of Shadows, taught by Professor Thorne. He was tall and gaunt, his eyes so dark they seemed bottomless. Today, he didn't bother with greetings. He simply scrawled a single phrase across the board in a script so jagged it seemed alive:
"Choice is the illusion of the bound."
He turned slowly, his gaze sweeping the room. "Every student at Ravenwood believes they are free. But you are not. The contract is older than your blood, older than your families. And those who resist…" His lips curved faintly. "…do not last long."
Amara's stomach churned. Her chest still burned faintly from the boy's touch.
As the lecture continued, Professor Thorne asked each student to recite from a black tome placed on their desk. When Amara's turn came, her page was blank. Yet the moment her lips parted, words poured out not from her, but through her.
Her voice echoed in a tone not her own:
At midnight she stands at the window. At midnight she chooses. At midnight the bond is sealed.
The class went silent. Even the candles flickered.
Professor Thorne studied her with unnerving calm. "Ah. A chosen tongue." He closed the tome. "Class dismissed."
Students scrambled out, shooting her looks of fear and envy.
Later that day, Celeste slid into her seat beside Amara during Alchemy. Her smile was sweet, but her eyes glittered with something sharp.
"You're changing," she whispered.
Amara stiffened. "What do you mean?"
Celeste leaned closer, her perfume cloying. "You're glowing differently. People can sense it. Some will fear you. Others…" She traced a finger on Amara's notebook. "…will want to use you."
Before Amara could answer, Celeste passed her another folded slip of paper. This time, in crimson ink, it said:
Do not resist him. If you do, you will not survive.
Her throat tightened. Was Celeste warning her or luring her further in?
Night descended.
The storm had not broken; instead, lightning crawled across the sky like veins of fire. The castle windows rattled, and the lake outside churned with black waves.
Amara stood in her dorm, staring at the window. Midnight was minutes away. Her hands trembled as she held the note. The boy's whisper still coiled in her chest.
At midnight, you choose.
The wind howled louder, rattling the glass. The whispers rose again, layered and urgent.
Open. Open. OPEN.
Then knocks. Three of them. Slow. Deliberate.
Amara turned. The door creaked open, though she hadn't touched it. Mara stood there, pale, her eyes wide. "Don't do it. Don't open the window."
Amara's lips parted. "But if I don't
"You'll stay free," Mara snapped. "For now. If you let him in, you'll never be free again."
Lightning split the sky. The clock struck midnight.
The glass of the window shuddered violently. A hand pressed against the other side, pale, clawed, belonging to no human. The masked boy's shadow stretched long into the room, his whisper filling her ears.
Choose me.
Her chest burned, her breath catching as her body moved on its own. Fingers brushed the latch.
Mara grabbed her arm, screaming. "Amara, don't!"
The latch lifted with a click. The window slammed open.
A gust of wind roared through the dorm, blowing out every candle. Shadows spiraled into the room, cold and choking. The masked boy stepped through the window, his mask cracked wider now, revealing the faint curl of a smile.
Amara's knees buckled. She couldn't tell if it was terror or something darker pulling her toward him.
He bent close, whispering against her ear, his voice a hiss that was both velvet and venom.
You chose. Now, you are mine
Mara screamed as the dorm door slammed shut on its own. The walls trembled. The books on Amara's desk burst open, their pages spinning, words glowing like fire.
And in that suffocating darkness, Amara realized the truth.
The school didn't just own the students.
{MIDNIGHT_CHOICE}
The school fed him.
The storm had not broken. It only deepened.
By day, Amara carried the weight of the boy's whisper like an invisible chain. Her chest still burned faintly, and every glance from her classmates seemed heavier. Professor Thorne's lesson echoed in her mind: Choice is the illusion of the bound.
At night, the window rattled, begging her to obey.
When the clock struck midnight, she stood alone in her dorm, the candles flickering. The whispers swelled until her ears rang. Open. Open. OPEN.
The glass trembled violently. A pale hand pressed against the other side. The masked boy's figure blurred against the storm, his presence pulling her forward.
Her fingers brushed the latch.
"Don't."
The voice was not Mara's.
Amara turned sharply. In the corner of the room, where shadows gathered, a figure stepped out a boy her age, drenched from the storm, water dripping from his dark curls. His eyes glowed faintly, not with the same venom as the masked one, but with a sharp clarity.
He didn't belong to Ravenwood. His uniform was different, darker, stitched with strange symbols.
"Who are you?" Amara whispered.
The masked boy hissed from the window, his whisper crawling through her skull. Don't listen. He lies.
A newcomer in the school stepped closer, steady Unknown to them calm despite the raging storm. "My name is Elias. I shouldn't be here, but I couldn't watch him take you. Not like the others."
Her heart pounded. "The others with uncertain shock?
Elias's jaw tightened. "Every student who gave in… every one of them was lost. Bound. Fed to him through Ravenwood's rituals. You don't want to be next."
The masked boy slammed a palm against the glass, cracks spiderwebbing across it. The whispers turned violent. Mine. She's mine.
The candles extinguished. Darkness swallowed the dorm.
Amara froze between them the masked boy at the window, Elias standing inside. Her chest burned, her hand trembling near the latch.
Elias caught her wrist. His hand was warm, grounding. "Amara, look at me."
She met his gaze, and for the first time in days, the whispers faltered. His voice cut through the storm like a blade. "You still have a choice. He wants you to believe you don't. But you do."
The masked boy's shadow swelled, filling the room. His mask cracked wider, his whisper now a roar. Choose me. Now.
Elias stepped in front of her, shielding her. He raised a small silver pendant that glowed faintly, the stormlight catching on it. The boy at the window recoiled, his whisper breaking into static.
Amara's breath hitched. The pressure on her chest lifted, just slightly.
Elias turned to her again, his voice urgent. "He will keep coming for you. But you're not alone anymore. I'll help you fight him. If you trust me."
The storm raged outside. The masked boy lingered at the shattered window, his shadow writhing, but his figure retreating into the dark.
This isn't over, his whisper echoed, distant yet promising.
And then he was gone.
The dorm fell silent except for the pounding of Amara's heart. Elias lowered the pendant, his expression grim.
"This school isn't just cursed," he said softly. "It was built for him. And if you want to survive, you'll need more than fear. You'll need me."
Amara sank into her chair, her hands trembling. For the first time since she'd arrived at Ravenwood, she didn't feel completely alone.
But in the pit of her stomach, she knew the boy at the window was right about one thing.
This was only the beginning.
CHAPTER 9_ A BOND In THE SHADOWS
Morning rose heavy and gray, the storm refusing to leave Ravenwood. The castle groaned under the weight of the rain, its halls dripping with shadows that seemed to watch from the corners.
Amara walked beside Elias, her books pressed to her chest. The whispers that had once crowded her head were quieter, though not gone. Each time they stirred, his presence dulled them, as if his very being could keep the boy at the window at bay.
In the dining hall, Celeste gave Amara her usual sly smile, but her gaze faltered when she noticed Elias. Students whispered as the two passed together, rumors sparking faster than fire in dry grass. Some looked curious, others afraid, but no one dared speak aloud what their eyes already screamed. Amara was different now. And Elias did not belong.
Later in class, the Headmistress herself entered to lecture on "The Binding Oath." Her voice was smooth as silk, but every word pressed down like a curse. She spoke of loyalty to Ravenwood, of sacrifice for the greater cause.
As the lecture deepened, Amara's skin prickled. The lesson's phrases turned cryptic, layered with hidden meaning, as though the Headmistress was speaking directly to her. One cannot resist the chosen shadow. One cannot walk alone.
Her chest tightened, the whispers returning, urging her to look at the window behind the class. She forced her gaze down. Her hands trembled.
Then Elias's hand brushed hers beneath the desk, grounding her. The whispers faded again, drowned beneath the steady rhythm of his presence. She exhaled slowly, steadying herself.
When the lecture ended, they slipped out together. Rain lashed against the courtyard windows, turning the light dim and sickly. Elias led her through a back corridor, down steps that twisted beneath the school.
"I need you to see this," he said quietly.
They entered a hidden chamber beneath the library. Candles lit themselves as they stepped inside, revealing walls carved with runes that pulsed faintly, like veins carrying blood. In the center stood a broken altar, dark stains etched into its stone.
Amara shivered. "What is this place?"
Elias's expression hardened. "The truth. Ravenwood was built as a vessel. The rituals, the lectures, the endless whispers they all feed him. Students don't just graduate. They become offerings. The boy at the window isn't a ghost. He's the heart of it."
Her knees weakened at his words. "And me? Why does he want me?"
Elias stepped closer. His voice was firm, unwavering. "Because you resisted. He wants obedience, not defiance. The fact that you stood at that window and still hesitated… it means you're different. Stronger."
She met his eyes, and in that moment, she knew he believed it. His certainty gave her something she hadn't felt since her first night here hope.
The whispers stirred faintly again, the masked boy's voice slithering into her chest. You cannot hide from me. You belong to me.
Amara staggered, clutching her chest, but Elias caught her shoulders, steadying her. His presence pushed back the voice, dulling it into silence.
"You're not his," Elias said firmly. "Not while I'm here."
Their eyes locked, and Amara realized something had shifted. For the first time in Ravenwood, she was not just surviving she was fighting back. And she was not fighting alone.
That night, when she returned to her dorm, she sat at her desk and opened her notebook. The ink still moved, still tried to write without her. But instead of fear tightening her chest, she placed Elias's silver pendant on the page. The words stilled instantly, the paper turning blank.
She smiled faintly. For the first time, Ravenwood did not feel invincible.
And in the storm outside, though the masked boy's shadow lingered at the window, Amara no longer trembled.
Because now, she had someone to stand with her in the dark.
CHAPTER 10_ THREADS OF THE VEIL
The rain never stopped. It coated the stone walls in silver, filled the courtyards with slick pools, and turned Ravenwood's towers into shadows looming against the gray sky.
Amara sat in History of Forgotten Orders, a subject she had once dismissed as dull. Today, however, her pulse quickened with every word the professor uttered. The lesson was about the Veil Societies, groups of mages who built sanctuaries centuries ago.
"These societies did not merely seek knowledge," Professor Vale said, pacing the aisles with a book clasped in his hands. His voice carried like a sermon. "They sought vessels. Living ones. Schools. The stronger the community, the stronger the offering. Entire generations were fed to powers older than any god you worship."
Amara shivered, remembering the altar Elias had shown her.
Her eyes flicked to the window, to the storm pressing against the glass. A shadow lingered there, faint but visible, as though the masked boy leaned against the pane, listening. Her breath caught, but Elias, sitting behind her, tapped her shoulder lightly. When she glanced back, he gave the smallest nod, steadying her.
The professor snapped the book shut. "Class is dismissed. But remember this, students: you are not merely heirs of Ravenwood. You are part of its blood."
The words rang like a curse.
At lunch, Celeste joined her table uninvited. Her smile was sweet, but her eyes glittered. "Amara, you're glowing differently again," she purred. "People are beginning to notice. Especially with your new shadow." She glanced at Elias across the hall, her voice dropping. "You should be careful. Ravenwood does not like outsiders."
Amara clenched her jaw. "Maybe that's why I need him."
Celeste's smile faltered, then returned, sharper this time. " We'll see how long he lasts."
murmuring the words in her Mind. She rose and walked away, her braid swaying like a serpent's tail.
Elias slid into the seat across from her moments later, a half-smile tugging at his lips. "I don't think your friend likes me."
"She's not my friend," Amara muttered, staring at her tray. "Not anymore."
His expression softened. "Then it's just us. Against all of this."
Amara met his eyes, and for a heartbeat, the hall's noise dimmed. The whispers that usually stirred when she looked at the windows fell silent.
That evening, Elias led her deeper into Ravenwood than she had ever gone. They passed corridors that seemed to stretch forever, staircases that looped back into themselves, and doors that disappeared when touched. The school breathed like a living labyrinth, rearranging itself.
At last, they reached a spiral staircase carved into black stone. At its base was a locked gate etched with runes. Elias placed his pendant against it, and the runes flickered, unlocking with a low groan.
The gate opened into a chamber unlike any she had seen.
Shelves curved high into the ceiling, filled with books bound in materials she could not name. Strange globes floated midair, glowing faintly. And in the center, a mural covered the floor an image of Ravenwood itself, drawn not as it was, but as if it were alive, roots and veins spreading into the earth like a parasitic tree.
Amara's breath caught. "It's feeding."
Elias nodded grimly. "On us. On every ritual, every lesson, every whisper. This isn't just a school. It's a vessel feeding him, and the Headmistress is his keeper."
Her chest burned again. The masked boy's voice curled into her thoughts, smoother this time. You see now. You cannot break me. You are mine because you are part of me.
She staggered, clutching her chest. Elias caught her, holding her steady.
"Fight him," he urged. "You're stronger than he is."
The whispers grew louder, wrapping around her like chains. Images flashed in her mind students kneeling, blood staining the altar, the boy at the window smiling beneath his cracked mask.
"I can't," she gasped.
"Yes, you can." Elias's hand was warm on hers, his voice fierce. "He wants you to believe you're weak because that's how he wins. But you are not alone anymore."
Her vision cleared slowly. The whispers dulled into silence, retreating like shadows at dawn. She breathed deeply, her body trembling but her spirit steadier than before.
When she lifted her gaze, Elias was still holding her hand, his eyes unwavering.
For the first time, Amara realized she was no longer just enduring Ravenwood she was beginning to resist it.
Later that night, as she returned to her dorm, she found a parchment slipped under her door. Its ink shimmered faintly, as though written by a hand not human.
It read:
"You can run with your new ally. You can even fight me. But remember this, Amara every friend becomes a sacrifice°"
.The storm outside howled louder, rattling the window. And this time, when she looked, she saw not just the boy's shadow, but the faint outline of others standing behind him, masked and waiting.
Her blood ran cold.
CHAPTER 11_ THE FRACTURE CIRCLE
The storm never broke. It only deepened until Ravenwood felt swallowed in an eternal twilight. The walls sweated damp, the corridors grew darker, and the candles seemed to shrink instead of burn.
Amara walked through the hall with Elias at her side, but she felt the eyes of everyone on her. Students whispered in corners, their gazes cutting sharper than knives. A rumor had spread she knew it, felt it that she was marked.
By who, none dared to say. But their stares told her they already knew.
At breakfast, Celeste approached with Mara trailing her. Both wore the same pleasant smiles that had once fooled Amara, but this time, she saw them clearly. Celeste leaned close, her voice sweet as sugar but sharp as glass.
"You've been busy with your little outsider," she murmured. "The Headmistress doesn't like secrets. And neither do we."
Mara giggled softly, though her eyes didn't laugh. "You can't keep him hidden forever, Amara. He doesn't belong here. Neither do you."
Elias shifted beside her, calm but watchful. Amara forced herself to meet Celeste's eyes. "Better no secrets than the lies you two live with."
Celeste's smile froze for a heartbeat. Then she leaned back, her voice dropping lower, venom dripping with every word. "We warned you. You'll wish you'd listened."
That night, Ravenwood gathered in the Great Hall for the Ritual of Binding, an event held once every few years, shrouded in tradition. Students stood in rows, candles in hand, while the Headmistress presided at the altar.
The air was thick with incense and whispers. The same mural of Ravenwood's parasitic roots glowed faintly beneath their feet. Amara's skin prickled.
The Headmistress spoke, her voice smooth as silk. "Tonight, bonds are sealed. Tonight, loyalty is proven. No one hides from the truth of Ravenwood."
Amara's chest burned again. The masked boy's whisper coiled through her mind. It's time. You cannot resist what you already are.
Beside her, Elias's hand brushed hers, grounding her. But the tension in the room was suffocating. She saw Mara and Celeste watching her from across the rows, their eyes gleaming in the candlelight.
Then it happened.
The names of students were called one by one. Each stepped forward, placing a drop of blood on the altar. The book of names glowed with each mark.
When it was Amara's turn, the hall fell into silence.
The Headmistress extended the knife, her expression unreadable. "Amara. Your loyalty."
Amara's hand trembled. Her chest screamed with pain. The whispers surged. Do it. You are already mine.
But Elias caught her wrist before she moved. "No," he hissed under his breath. "Don't give it to them."
The hall gasped.
Celeste's voice rose from the crowd. "See? She defies Ravenwood! She's already chosen the shadow!"
Mara stepped forward, pointing at Elias. "And he's the poison in her. He doesn't belong here. He never did!"
The whispers erupted into chaos, students muttering, candles flickering wildly. The Headmistress's eyes narrowed, her calm smile twisting. "So. Betrayal after all."
Amara's knees buckled. The pressure of hundreds of eyes, the whispers, the masked boy's laughter it crashed over her like waves. Her vision blurred, the altar glowing brighter, the book snapping open. Her name pulsed red, burning in the pages.
Elias pulled her back sharply. "Run!"
But before they could move, Celeste stepped into their path, her sweet mask gone. Her smile was feral, her voice low. "You're not leaving, Amara. Ravenwood isn't done with you."
The hall erupted in screams as the candles blew out all at once. Darkness swallowed everything.
In the pitch black, only the masked boy's whisper remained. Betrayal is the only truth. And now, you are mine.
Chapter 12 – ASHES OF RAVENWOOD
The night lingered heavy, the Great Hall still reeking of extinguished candles and spilled incense. Shadows clung to the arches, whispering, watching. Amara's pulse throbbed in her ears as she clutched Elias's hand. The world tilted between nightmare and reality, but she refused to fall.
The Headmistress's voice slid through the dark, smooth but cracking at the edges. "Ravenwood does not forgive defiance. The school itself will devour you."
Light sparked across the altar. The mural of roots carved into the stone floor pulsed like veins, black liquid crawling outward as though the school were alive, hungry. The whispers rose into a chant that did not belong to human mouths.
Elias tightened his grip. "They want you to break, Amara. Don't give them the satisfaction."
The masked boy stepped forward from the shadows, his presence colder than night. The porcelain mask glowed faintly, and his voice burrowed into her chest. This is your destiny. You've carried my mark from the first night. You were chosen to feed Ravenwood.
Amara staggered, the pain tearing through her ribs, but Elias caught her shoulders, steadying her. "Look at me," he whispered fiercely. "You're not his. You never were."
Something inside her shifted. For the first time, the whispers cracked. She could hear her own heartbeat over them.
The students encircled her like predators, their eyes hollow, their voices chanting in a tongue she didn't understand. Celeste's smile glimmered cruelly, Mara beside her, both waiting for Amara to crumble.
But Amara's voice rose, trembling yet sharp. "You want loyalty? You thrive on fear? Then hear this
She tore her palm open with the ritual blade and pressed her blood not on the altar but on the mural itself. The roots shuddered, hissing as though wounded.
The whispers screamed.
The Headmistress's composure snapped, her voice a snarl. "You foolish girl!"
Elias stepped beside Amara, slicing his palm and pressing his blood against hers. "We choose truth, not your lies."
The roots convulsed violently, the mural cracking open. A stench of rot and centuries-old secrets filled the hall. Students stumbled back in terror.
From the cracks rose the truth: a vision unraveling before them. Ravenwood had been built on sacrifice, fed by children's loyalty and blood, sustained by fear. The Headmistress, the faculty, the masked boy they were not guardians but parasites.
The school itself was the parasite.
Amara screamed, forcing every ounce of will against the whispers clawing at her. "You don't own me!"
The mask shattered. The boy's face dissolved into ash. The hall roared like thunder, the walls shaking, glass shattering in windows high above.
Students shrieked as the roots turned to dust beneath their feet. The mural collapsed. The altar cracked in two. The Great Hall Ravenwood's heart was dying.
Through the chaos, Amara and Elias ran. The corridors were collapsing, staircases folding in on themselves. Shadows tried to drag them down, but Elias pulled her forward, his grip iron.
"Don't look back," he gasped.
The entrance doors loomed ahead, tall and ancient. Amara felt the last of Ravenwood's pull clawing at her ribs, the whispers shrieking, begging, threatening. For a moment she faltered.
Then Elias's voice cut through the storm. "Together, Amara. Always."
She flung the doors open.
Cold dawn spilled inside.
The moment her feet crossed the threshold, the pain vanished. The whispers died. Ravenwood's scream echoed behind her as the doors slammed shut forever.
Amara collapsed on the stone steps, the world suddenly quiet, unbearably quiet. Her chest heaved, her bloodied palm throbbing. Elias sank beside her, his face pale but steady.
The sky was breaking into light, soft and golden.
Amara stared at it, tears slipping free. "It's over," she whispered.
Elias nodded. "You're free."
The ruins of Ravenwood smoked in the distance, the once-mighty school nothing more than a husk. Students scattered into the woods, shadows of themselves. Celeste and Mara were gone, swallowed by the collapse. The Headmistress's voice would never whisper again.
Amara rose slowly. Her body ached, but her spirit was unshackled. She looked at Elias her true friend, her anchor and felt something rare in the ashes.
Victory.
As they walked away from the smoldering ruins, she didn't look back. Ravenwood would remain behind her forever, a ghost of what once was.
Ahead lay a future unmarked by whispers.
And for the first time, the world was hers.
_ Echoes Beyond the Gates
The world felt different under the sun. It was warmer, brighter, yet Amara still carried the memory of Ravenwood in her bones. Weeks had passed since the school collapsed, swallowed by its own lies, yet sometimes she woke at night expecting to hear the whispers again.
But there was only silence.
Amara now lived with an aunt in the countryside, far from the gray cliffs of Ravenwood. Fields stretched wide, the air smelled of pine and wet earth, and mornings came with birdsong instead of bells. It was simple. It was quiet. Almost too quiet.
She sat by the window one afternoon, notebook in hand, sketching the twisted mural she would never forget. The roots, the altar, the mask shadows etched into her memory. Her pen paused when she realized she wasn't drawing the school anymore, but Elias. His sharp eyes, his steady hands, the way he had stood by her when everyone else betrayed her.
A soft knock pulled her from her thoughts.
"Still drawing nightmares?" Elias's voice teased lightly as he stepped inside.
Amara smiled faintly. "Not nightmares. Reminders."
He leaned against the frame, arms crossed. "We survived, Amara. That's enough."
"Is it?" she whispered. Her gaze drifted to the hills beyond, where the sky stretched endless. "Sometimes I think Ravenwood isn't gone. Like it's still watching."
Elias walked closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe it will always echo. But echoes fade. What matters is what you do now."
She closed the notebook slowly, meeting his eyes. For the first time, she felt the truth settle Ravenwood hadn't claimed her. She had claimed herself.
They stepped outside together, the grass brushing their ankles, the horizon wide and untouched. Amara inhaled deeply, the air filling her chest without pain. No whispers followed. No shadows clung.
As they walked, she thought of the students left behind, of those who hadn't escaped, of the friends who had betrayed her and the enemies who had shaped her. Ravenwood was a grave, but also a lesson: strength wasn't in loyalty to fear, but in refusing it.
The sun dipped low, painting the fields in gold. Elias nudged her gently. "So, where to now?"
Amara smiled, small but real. "Anywhere but back."
And together, they kept walking, leaving Ravenwood as nothing more than a scar on the past and a story to be told one that would never be forgotten, yet no longer held power over them.
Author _ Dãmié Bøy 🧸 ✍️ 📝