London never slept, but Ravenscourt International Academy pretended it did.
By day, the school was immaculate—iron gates polished to a diplomatic shine, ivy crawling up stone walls older than several countries, uniforms pressed sharp enough to cut ambition into shape. By night, Ravenscourt exhaled. The halls dimmed, secrets loosened, and the past pressed closer to the present.
Elliot Carter noticed this long before the time capsule did.
He stood at the edge of the south courtyard, hands in the pockets of his wool coat, watching construction lights flood the ground like artificial moons. Renovations were underway—another donor-funded upgrade announced in the morning assembly with the casual arrogance of people who never worried about cost. The headmaster had called it progress.
Elliot called it disruption.
The oak tree at the center of the courtyard had been fenced off, its roots exposed like veins. It had been there since Ravenscourt's founding, older than the academy's reputation, older than the myths whispered between scholarship students who believed the ground itself knew things.
Elliot didn't believe in myths.
He believed in patterns.
And something about tonight felt… misaligned.
"Carter," a voice called behind him. "You look like you're about to brood your way into a Victorian novel."
Elliot turned. Amelia Rhodes stood a few steps back, scarf wrapped loosely around her neck, eyes sharp with amusement. She looked like she belonged in Ravenscourt in the way paintings belonged in museums—effortlessly, unapologetically.
"Just observing," Elliot said.
"Observing what?"
"The way this place pretends nothing ever changes."
Amelia smirked. "You mean except for the new science wing, the biometric locks, and the fact that tuition just increased again?"
He shrugged. "Surface changes."
She studied him for a moment, then glanced toward the construction site. "You ever notice how Ravenscourt renovates everything except its values?"
Elliot blinked. "You sound like Arjun."
"High praise," she said lightly. "He's usually right."
A shout echoed from the courtyard as a construction worker struck something solid beneath the soil. The sound wasn't stone. It wasn't metal piping either. It was… hollow.
Elliot felt it in his chest before he heard it again.
Thunk.
The ground remembered.
"Did you hear that?" Amelia asked.
Elliot was already moving.
They weren't supposed to be there.
That was, technically, the only rule Elliot had ever enjoyed breaking.
The workers had stepped away for the night, tools scattered and tarps half-draped like abandoned ideas. Amelia vaulted the fence with practiced ease, landing silently. Elliot followed, less graceful but determined.
"Please tell me this isn't your attempt at getting expelled," Amelia whispered.
"If it is," Elliot murmured, "I'd prefer it be memorable."
They reached the disturbed patch of earth. The oak tree's roots framed it like ribs.
Elliot crouched, brushing soil aside with his hands. His fingers struck something cold.
Metal.
"Amelia," he said quietly.
She knelt beside him, breath hitching as more dirt gave way. A rusted cylinder emerged—sealed, heavy, unmistakably intentional.
"A time capsule?" she whispered.
Elliot stared at it, pulse roaring in his ears. Ravenscourt didn't commemorate the past. It buried it.
"This wasn't part of any renovation plan," he said.
"Obviously," Amelia replied. "Look at it. This thing's ancient."
Not ancient, Elliot thought.
Deliberate.
They lifted it together. The metal creaked like it resented being remembered.
"Okay," Amelia said, grinning despite herself. "This is officially the coolest thing that's happened all term."
Elliot didn't smile.
He felt watched.
The abandoned debate room was the only place in Ravenscourt where surveillance cameras mysteriously failed. Madison Brooks had discovered that during her first month, then never explained how.
"This better be good," Madison said, spinning her chair as Elliot and Amelia entered. "I was in the middle of proving our firewall is held together by vibes and optimism."
Elliot placed the capsule on the table.
Madison froze.
"…Oh," she said. "You brought lore."
Within minutes, Arjun Malhotra joined them, eyes narrowing as soon as he saw it.
"Where did you find that?" he asked.
"South courtyard," Amelia said.
Arjun exhaled slowly. "That area was sealed in 1994."
Elliot looked up. "How do you know that?"
Arjun tapped his temple. "Because Ravenscourt archives are inconsistently digitized, and I got bored."
The door creaked open again.
Kai Zhang stepped in, broad shoulders blocking the light, expression unreadable. He glanced at the capsule once.
"Whatever that is," he said, "it's important."
"Finally," Amelia said. "Someone with instincts."
"Instincts," Kai replied calmly, "and eyes."
Last to arrive was Hiro Tanaka.
He smiled.
And Elliot's unease sharpened into something colder.
"That," Hiro said, approaching the table, "is going to cause problems."
The capsule opened with a sound like a held breath finally released.
Inside were letters.
Not one. Not two.
Dozens.
Each envelope was labeled with a date.
And a name.
Elliot's name sat at the top.
Amelia sucked in a sharp breath. "That's not funny."
"I didn't do this," Madison said immediately. "I swear."
Arjun's face had gone pale. "What are the dates?"
Elliot checked.
Some were years in the past.
Some were tomorrow.
And one—
—was dated tonight.
Hiro tilted his head. "Open it."
Elliot hesitated.
Then broke the seal.
The letter inside was handwritten.
If you're reading this, it began, Ravenscourt has already chosen who you're supposed to be.
Elliot swallowed.
The question is whether you will accept it.
The final line burned into his vision.
Prediction One: A truth buried beneath this school will be uncovered tonight.
The lights flickered.
Somewhere in Ravenscourt, an alarm began to sound.
Kai straightened. "We're not alone."
Madison's fingers flew across her keyboard. "We've been flagged."
Amelia smiled, adrenaline sparking in her eyes. "Guess fate didn't like being disturbed."
Elliot looked at the letter again.
The ground remembered.
And now—
So did Ravenscourt.