Fog wrapped the forest tight, like it was trying to choke it, clinging to gnarled pines along the rocky trail to Blackmoon Academy. Lila Sinclair kept moving, boots crunching gravel, her old backpack heavy on her shoulders. It was 2025, but out here time felt fake. No phone signal, no tech hum, just leaves rustling and a creepy vibe in the air that made her skin crawl. Her breath puffed out, mixing with mist that seemed to whisper stuff she didn't want to hear.
Nineteen years old, Lila was no stranger to rough times. Foster homes that smelled of bleach and broken dreams had made her tough, but this scholarship was her shot at something better, a ticket to Blackmoon, a place for werewolves where elites sharpened claws and instincts. She wasn't one of them, not really. No pack, no big name bloodline, just a stubborn streak and a moon shaped scar on her collarbone that itched now, like it knew the academy's old power.
The path got tight, cliffs dropping sharp on one side, their edges lost in fog. Howls echoed from below, wolves or students messing around? Lila shivered, not cold but feeling eyes she couldn't see. She'd heard talk about Blackmoon, a fortress where outsiders like her were rare and barely wanted. Her fair skin prickled under her worn jacket, dark hair with red streaks catching faint light as she pulled her hood up.
A branch snapped close. Lila froze, heart banging. "Who's there?" she called, voice eaten by mist. Nothing, then a whisper slid through, soft and spooky. "Outsider, betrayer." It was gone fast, but her scar throbbed, like it was alive. She kept going, heart pounding harder, the academy appearing through the fog, gothic towers cutting the gray sky, ivy strangling stone walls like veins, stained glass windows throwing weird colors that danced on the ground.
The whispers didn't stop, growing sharper as she neared the gates, like voices trapped in the mist. "Crescent, betrayed." Her scar burned, a hot pulse under her skin, and she pressed her hand to it, trying to calm the strange heat. Was it always this sensitive, or was this place doing something to her? She shook her head, telling herself it was just nerves, but the air felt heavy, like it was watching her, waiting for her to slip up.
Gates creaked open, like they felt her coming. The courtyard was stone, lit by lanterns flickering wild shadows. No welcome crew, just towers staring down, judging her. Lila's jaw clenched. She wasn't here for buddies, she was here to show she belonged, but the air buzzed with power, making her teeth ache, like she'd walked into a trap. The lanterns swayed, casting light that seemed to twist, forming shapes in the fog, wolves maybe, or something older, their eyes glowing faint before vanishing.
Inside, the main hall smelled of old wood and something sharp, blood maybe. It hit her like a punch, and she stumbled, boots echoing loud. Corridors stretched like a maze, lanterns casting shadows that swallowed voices. "New blood, scholarship trash." Laughter sliced through, mean and mocking. Lila's cheeks burned, but she kept walking, head high, toward the dorms. Whispers followed, curling like smoke. "Crescent, betrayed." Her scar burned hotter, and she rubbed it, wondering what it meant, her fingers lingering on the raised mark that felt alive, like it was trying to tell her something.
Her room was a small box, bed, desk, window showing fog covered forest. She dropped her bag, flopped on the mattress, staring at a cracked ceiling. The whispers didn't stay outside, they seeped into her mind, replaying that word, "betrayer," over and over. She tried to ignore it, unpacking her few things, jeans, hoodies, a couple books she'd scavenged from library bins. Nothing like the fancy stuff the elite kids probably had. In the mirror, her eyes looked sharper than usual, almost wild, and that scar pulsed, like it was calling to the shadows outside.
Sleep was rough, dreams full of shadows saying her name, offering power and ruin. She saw flashes of a forest, not this one, older, darker, with wolves circling, their eyes glowing like the lanterns. A woman's voice, cold and familiar, whispered, "You're mine," and Lila woke sweating, heart racing. The fog was thinner at dawn, but the academy still loomed heavy, towers watching, ivy moving like it breathed. The whispers stuck in her head, a twisted call to secrets she wasn't ready for.
Orientation was all rules, barked by betas in stiff uniforms. No shifting outside zones, pack loyalty first, outsiders on thin ice. Lila nodded, but her mind was on that scar, pulsing like a heartbeat. What if she wasn't all human? It thrilled her, a dark spark, but scared her too. She wasn't like these elite wolves with their smug bloodlines, she was a stray, and they knew it. Their stares followed her through the halls, and she felt the weight of their suspicion, like a blade at her back.
Night came, fog thicker than ever. Lila stood at her window, staring into the dark. A figure moved in the mist, tall, cloaked, still as death. It watched her, then vanished into pines. Her mother? No way, she'd left her years ago. But unease sank deep, a creepy promise Blackmoon wasn't just a school. It was a cage, and she was prey, caught in a web of instinct and forbidden wants.
Whispers got loud that night, leaking through walls. "She comes, the betrayer rises." Lila pulled covers over her head, heart racing. Tomorrow was her first real day, and Blackmoon's secrets were starting to unravel, pulling her into a twisted dance of power and danger she wasn't sure she could fight, or wanted to. She tossed in bed, the scar's pulse keeping her awake, like it was counting down to something big. The fog outside seemed to press closer, whispering her name, and she wondered if she'd made a mistake coming here, or if this was where she was meant to be, caught in a game she didn't understand yet.
The air in her room grew heavy, like the academy itself was breathing, watching her. She got up, pacing, trying to shake the feeling. The floorboards creaked, and she froze, thinking she heard footsteps outside her door. Nothing. Just her mind playing tricks? But the whispers came again, clearer, like they were inside her head now. "Find the truth, or it finds you." Her scar burned so hot she gasped, pressing her hand to it, feeling the raised skin pulse like a second heart. She looked out the window again, the fog swirling thicker, shapes moving in it, wolves or something worse. The cloaked figure didn't return, but its presence lingered, like a shadow stitched to her soul. She climbed back into bed, but sleep stayed away, the whispers and the scar keeping her trapped in a restless haze, the academy's secrets circling closer, ready to bite.