Six hours. That's how long it took to drive from everything Arwen had ever known to whatever the hell Blood Moon Academy was supposed to be. Six hours of Margaret's white knuckles on the steering wheel, checking mirrors like someone might be following them, and roads that definitely weren't on any normal map.

The forest kept getting thicker and weirder until suddenly they weren't in the forest anymore. They were driving through these massive iron gates that definitely hadn't been there two seconds ago. The gates swung shut behind them with a sound like a coffin slamming closed.

"Okay, that's not creepy," Arwen muttered.

Blood Moon Academy looked like someone had taken every haunted castle from every horror movie and mashed them together. Black stone towers reached up toward storm clouds, connected by bridges that shouldn't have been able to support their own weight. Gargoyles perched on every corner, their stone eyes tracking the car as it wound up the circular drive.

Some of them weren't entirely stone. A few turned their heads to follow the movement.

"It's really big," Arwen said, staring up at the Gothic facade.

"It is," Margaret said automatically, but her heart wasn't in it. She looked like she was having second thoughts about this whole plan.

They pulled up to the main entrance where stone steps led to doors that had to be twelve feet tall. The doors opened before they could knock.

"Miss Blackthorne, I presume?"

The woman standing in the doorway looked like she'd stepped out of the 1800s. Tall, severe, with steel-gray hair pulled back in a bun so tight it probably gave her headaches. Her eyes were winter-ice pale.

"I'm Headmistress Thorne. Welcome to Blood Moon Academy."

The entry hall was enormous. Vaulted ceiling that disappeared into shadows, walls lined with portraits that definitely moved when she wasn't looking directly at them, and a grand staircase that curved up on both sides. The whole space was lit by floating candles that cast warm light but no shadows.

Magic hung in the air like humidity—thick enough to taste, old enough to have weight. It made her skin tingle and her nerves sing.

They walked through hallways lined with suits of armor that turned to follow them as they passed. Students moved through the corridors in small groups, and it was the way they reacted to her that made Arwen's stomach clench.

The moment she stepped into the main courtyard, everything changed.

It started with the plants. The grass beneath her shoes burst into bloom—tiny wildflowers pushing up between the blades in a perfect circle around where she stood. Then, just as quickly, they withered to ash. Then it bloomed again. The cycle repeated over and over, life and death in fast-forward.

Students who'd been walking to classes stopped dead. Conversations died mid-sentence. Every supernatural on the quad turned to stare at her with expressions ranging from curiosity to outright fear.

"What is she?" someone whispered.

"I've never sensed anything like that before."

"She doesn't smell like any of us."

"Look what she's doing to the plants."

A vampire student with pale skin took one look at Arwen and hissed, backing away. "She smells like winter death and starlight," he told his companion. "That's not werewolf."

More students were gathering now, forming a loose circle around her but staying well back. Their whispers created a constant buzz of speculation and fear.

"What do you think she is?"

"I've never seen anything like her."

"Look at her eyes."

Arwen felt like a zoo animal on display. Every face was turned toward her, studying her, judging her.

"You have an unusual scent, Miss Blackthorne," Headmistress Thorne said quietly. "Our students are naturally sensitive to such things. They'll adjust."

---

The next hour was a blur of forms and formal introductions in the administrative office. Margaret was finally escorted to the door with promises that Arwen would be well cared for.

"Be safe," Margaret whispered, hugging her tight. "And remember—you're stronger than you know."

Then she was gone, and Arwen was alone.

A student volunteer appeared to show her to the dormitory. The girl looked about sixteen, with dark skin and eyes that held flecks of gold that definitely weren't natural. She introduced herself as Lydia.

"Don't mind them," Lydia said as they walked through the corridors. "New students always cause a stir, especially ones with interesting lineages. It'll die down once they get used to you."

The dormitory was in one of the smaller buildings. Arwen's room was on the third floor—small but comfortable, with a window that looked out over the main courtyard. Her few belongings looked pathetic scattered across the unfamiliar furniture.

"Dinner's at six in the great hall," Lydia said. "I can come get you if you want."

After Lydia left, Arwen sat on the bed and tried to process everything. Outside her window, storm clouds kept gathering, and lightning flashed across the sky in patterns that looked almost like writing.

She was unpacking when voices drifted up from the courtyard below. Curious, she moved to the window and looked down.

A group of students was crossing the stone courtyard, but it was the figure walking alone behind them that made her breath catch.

He was tall, probably her age, with dark hair and sharp features. Even from three stories up, she could see the predatory grace that reminded her of werewolf alphas. But there was something else about him, something that made her pulse quicken.

As if he could feel her watching, he stopped and looked up.

Their eyes met across the distance, and the world seemed to pause.

His face went completely white, like he'd seen a ghost. His mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out.

For a moment that stretched longer than it should have, they stared at each other. She'd never seen him before in her life, but something about that look he was giving her felt familiar. Like recognition. Like grief.

Like she'd just broken his heart without saying a word.

Then his expression twisted into something between rage and anguish, and he turned and walked away so fast it was almost running.

Thunder rolled across the sky, and the first drops of rain began hitting her window. The boy in the courtyard had looked at her like she was someone else entirely. Someone who'd hurt him badly.

And the worst part was, she was starting to wonder if he might be right.

Thunder rolled across the sky, and the first drops of rain began hitting her window. Whatever she'd gotten herself into by coming here, Arwen had the feeling it was going to be a lot more complicated than just learning to control mysterious magical abilities.

The boy in the courtyard had looked at her like she was someone else entirely. Someone who'd hurt him badly.

And the worst part was, she was starting to wonder if he might be right.