Even from a distance, the Academia stood out like a monument to another world. Its silhouette, part medieval fortress, part futuristic marvel, rose above the treetops. Spires of obsidian and glass jutted skyward, etched with glowing runes that pulsed faintly with arcane energy. In the slanted light of morning, it shimmered, otherworldly, untouchable.
From the deck of the ship, Valeria stood motionless, eyes fixed on the approaching dock, her grip tight around the strap of her bag. Wind tugged at her dark cloak, sending strands of silver-blonde hair flicking across her face. She didn’t glance back at the others.
The moment the gangplank touched wood, she descended. Her boots hit the dock with crisp, echoing clacks. She kept her gaze ahead, refusing to look behind her. Refusing to look for him.
That insufferable werewolf.
She could still feel the ghost of his hands on her arms, the way he’d caught her mid-stumble back on the ship. Embarrassing. Infuriating. Unforgettable. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of a second encounter.
The docks teemed with activity, students spilling off boats and airships, voices rising in a cacophony of excitement, nerves, and bravado. Robes fluttered. Suitcases levitated. Magical familiars perched on shoulders or prowled at heels. Some students looked around with wide-eyed wonder, others moved with practiced confidence, their expressions cool, unreadable.
Valeria didn’t slow. She didn’t spare them a single glance.
She cut a straight line through the crowd, her posture regal. The dock gave way to a wide stone path flanked by floating lanterns that flickered softly with enchanted flame. It led toward the Academia’s main gates, carved into a high wall of black stone.
To the world outside, this was just an elite academy for prodigies. To humans, it was prestigious, even mysterious, but ordinary. They had no idea that within these walls gathered the supernatural elite. Vampires. Witches. Werewolves. Shifters. Elementals. Beings who could split the sky or bend the sea if they chose to. The hidden world trained here, preparing for a future kept carefully veiled from human eyes.
Valeria’s heels clicked crisply against the marble, echoing faintly under the vaulted ceiling of the grand hallway. The hum of students swirled around her, murmured spells, hushed gossip, the occasional burst of laughter, but she paid it no mind. Her posture was perfect. Her gaze, unwavering.
But then it came like a breath of winter brushing the nape of her neck.
A chill. Not cold from temperature, but from instinct.
She slowed.
Her skin prickled, and her eyes narrowed as she subtly scanned the crowd, weaving between pillars and stained-glass shadows. Something wasn’t right. The air had shifted.
That’s when she saw her.
Still as stone in a river of motion, a girl in obsidian stood out like a tear in the fabric of the world. Her clothes were dark from throat to toe, tailored sharp as knives. Black lipstick glinted under the colored light, but it was her eyes that stopped Valeria cold, void-black, featureless, as if they'd been carved out of night itself.
A witch.
Valeria's foot caught the edge of a step. Just enough.
She stumbled.
Someone behind her didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. She bumped hard into a shoulder and spun with a hiss of embarrassment—but when she looked up, her heart clutched.
The witch. Of course.
No whites, no pupils. Just darkness.
“Watch your step, vampire,” the girl said, her tone like cold steel wrapped in silk.
Valeria straightened, expression freezing over. She said nothing, not yet.
“I figured you'd be taller,” the witch added, tilting her head. “They say your kind likes to look down on the rest of us. Guess that’s harder when you’re flat on your ass.”
Valeria’s eyes flashed crimson. “And I thought witches knew subtlety. Or did you trip me just for the theatrics?”
The witch’s lips curved slightly. “What’s the matter? Did the Princess forget how to glide?”
A few students had slowed, sensing something brewing. Magic trembled faintly in the air, like a match waiting to strike.
Valeria stepped forward, chin high. “Careful,” she said. “Staring too long into the abyss can get you swallowed.”
“Oh, honey,” the witch said sweetly. “I am the abyss.”
She turned, cloak swirling, and disappeared into the crowd without another word—just that lingering smirk burned into Valeria’s memory like a brand.
Valeria gritted her teeth and strode on, her pulse pounding now not with fear, but fury.
She didn’t see the second figure until it was too late.
They collided. Her shoulder slammed against a firm chest and she recoiled, already growling, eyes flashing again. “What now—”
“Easy,” came a drawling voice, maddeningly calm. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your death glare duel.”
She looked up.
The werewolf eyes met hers, glinting with amusement. A cocky smile. Hair tousled just enough to look accidental. It was him.
The werewolf from the ship.
Of course.
“You,” Valeria said flatly.
He grinned. “Me. Looks like you’ve made more than one enemy today. Impressive, even by my standards.”
She rolled her eyes and stalked past him without another word, heart thudding like war drums in her chest. But she could feel them; both the witch, and the wolf were watching.