The letter arrives on a Tuesday, slipped beneath my door like a secret that knows it doesn't belong to me.
I almost miss it.
I'm on the floor, back against the bed, counting the cracks in the ceiling because it's easier than counting the bills spread out beside my knee.
Electricity.
Water.
Rent.
The usual chorus of red ink and final notices.
My phone buzzes once on the mattress above me, then goes quiet.
I don't check it.
That's when I notice the edge of parchment where there should only be dust.
I stare at it for a long second, convinced it's a trick of the light.
The hallway outside my apartment is narrow and dim, the kind of place where footsteps echo and neighbors pretend not to exist.
No one slips letters under doors here.
If they knock at all, it's with a fist and impatience.
I reach out anyway.
The paper is thick.
Too thick.
Cream-colored, with a faint shimmer woven into it like threads catching light.
My name is written across the front in ink so dark it looks almost wet.
Nyra Vale.
My stomach tightens.
I haven't used that name in years.
I close the door slowly, as if the letter might try to escape.
My fingers hover over the seal,something embossed, circular, unfamiliar.
I don't recognize the symbol, but my chest reacts like I do.
A dull pressure settles behind my ribs, quiet but insistent.
"Don't be stupid," I murmur.
The sound of my own voice steadies me.
I break the seal.
The letter smells faintly of smoke and something older,stone maybe or rain trapped where it doesn't belong.
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Aurelian Academy…
I stop reading.
Accepted.
My pulse thuds hard enough that I have to press the letter flat against my thigh to keep it from shaking.
I skim the next lines, faster now, words blurring together until one sentence forces itself into focus.
Your legacy has been sealed long enough.
My breath catches.
"No," I whisper.
I read it again.
And again.
The words don't change.
The letter doesn't mention how they found me.
It doesn't explain why now.
It simply states facts, as if my life has been a paused story and they've decided to turn the page without asking.
Aurelian Academy.
I know the name.
Everyone does, even if they pretend not to.
An institution that doesn't officially exist, whispered about in the same tone people use for fires that burned down cities or families that vanished overnight.
I fold the letter once.
Then twice.
My hands move automatically, like muscle memory.
Like I've done this before.
I haven't.
The knock comes five minutes later,sharp, deliberate.
"Nyra?" Mrs. Hale calls through the door.
"You home?"
I shove the letter under the mattress and stand too quickly, the room tilting for a second before righting itself.
When I open the door, she's already peering past me, eyes sharp and curious.
"You look pale" she says. "Everything all right?"
"Fine" I lie.
She hums, unconvinced. "Mail came earlier.
Thought I heard someone at your door."
My chest tightens again.
"Must've been the wind."
She smiles thinly, the way people do when they know better but don't care enough to push.
"Well. If you're heading out, don't forget trash day's tomorrow."
"I won't."
She turns to leave, then pauses. "Nyra."
"Yes?"
Her gaze lingers on me, heavier now.
"Some places don't like being ignored."
I don't respond. By the time I blink, she's gone.
I don't sleep that night.
Every time I close my eyes, I see the words sealed long enough burning behind my lids.
By morning, my decision's already been made.
Not because I'm brave, or reckless but because refusing feels like stepping off a cliff I've already fallen from.
The bus station smells like oil and stale coffee.
I clutch my single bag to my chest and avoid looking at anyone for too long.
The ticket clerk doesn't ask questions when I give her the destination printed at the bottom of the letter.
She just slides the ticket across the counter, eyes flicking to my face and then away, like she's been trained not to remember me.
The bus ride takes hours.
The city thins, buildings giving way to trees, then to land that feels untouched in a way that makes my skin prickle.
My phone loses signal.
The other passengers grow quiet.
By the time the bus stops, I'm the only one left.
"End of the line," the driver says, not looking at me.
I step off.
The road is narrow, winding uphill toward iron gates that rise from the fog like a warning.
Stone pillars flank them, etched with the same symbol that sealed my letter.
As I approach, the gates open on their own, metal groaning softly.
I swallow and walk through.
Aurelian Academy looms ahead,towers of dark stone, windows glowing faintly as if the building itself is breathing.
The air hums, low and constant, like the echo of a heartbeat.
A woman waits at the entrance.
Tall.
Silver-haired.
Her eyes are sharp enough to cut.
"Nyra Vale," she says, before I can speak.
"Yes."
"I am Headmistress Thorne. You're late."
"I arrived when I was told."
Her lips curve slightly.
"Time behaves differently here."
She gestures me inside without another word.
The entrance hall is vast, lined with banners I don't recognize.
Students gather in small clusters, voices hushed.
Some look confident.
Others look terrified.
A few look bored, which unsettles me more than the fear.
As we walk, I feel it again,that pressure in my chest, growing heavier with every step.
"That name," I say suddenly.
"Why use it?"
Headmistress Thorne stops.
Turns.
"Because," she replies calmly "it is yours."
Before I can argue, a ripple of movement near the stairs catches my attention.
A boy stands apart from the others, leaning against a column like he doesn't belong to the same world.
Dark hair.
Stillness sharpened into control.
When he looks up, his gaze meets mine with unsettling intensity.
The hum in the air spikes.
Something in me reacts,
quiet,
instinctive,
undeniable.
"Who is that?" I ask.
The he
admistress's expression hardens.
"Someone you would be wise to avoid."
The boy's eyes don't leave me.
And for the first time since the letter arrived, I understand something with chilling clarity:
This place didn't just call me here.
It was waiting.