Life at home

Chapter one

The smell of burnt bread filled our tiny kitchen again. I sighed and waved the smoke away with my hand, my throat tight as my stepmother’s sharp voice echoed from the living room.

“Anna! How many times must I tell you to pay attention? You’re useless, just like your mother was!”

Her words cut deep, as they always did, but I didn’t answer. Silence had become my only shield. The last time I spoke back, she threw a glass at me. The scar behind my ear still tingled whenever I remembered.

I pulled the bread out of the old toaster, scraped off the black parts, and placed it neatly on a chipped plate beside a cup of coffee.

Clara, my stepsister, was still upstairs recording another one of her videos. I could hear her fake laugh echoing through the ceiling.

I glanced at the window. Morning light poured through the thin curtains, painting the cracked walls gold.

Somewhere in the distance, the town clock chimed eight. I should have been at school by now, but Veronica insisted I stay home to clean. She said we were expecting “important guests,” though no one ever came for me.

Sometimes I wondered why I still hoped for something better. Every day felt like the same dull gray loop.

Yet deep inside, something small, something stubborn, refused to die.

I had just set the table when I noticed a faint shimmer near the door. It was like a flicker of light from nowhere.

I frowned and walked closer. There, on the dusty floor, lay an envelope that hadn’t been there before. Someone had slid it under the door without a sound.

I hesitated, listening for Veronica’s footsteps. When I was sure she wasn’t coming, I bent down and picked it up.

The envelope was cream-colored and thick, sealed with deep blue wax pressed into the shape of a crescent moon. My name was written on it in elegant handwriting.

Anna Morell.

My heart skipped. No one ever wrote to me.

I turned it over, but there was no return address, no stamp. Just that strange moon symbol that seemed to shimmer faintly under the light.

I tore it open with trembling fingers. Inside was a sheet of parchment and a metallic blue card.

“Congratulations. You have been selected to receive a full scholarship to Silverstone Academy. Classes begin immediately. Report by Monday.”

I blinked, then read it again. Silverstone Academy. The name alone sent a chill through me. It was the most prestigious school in the entire region, known for its powerful students, secret traditions, and a history wrapped in mystery.

But I hadn’t applied. I couldn’t even afford the uniform, let alone tuition.

Before I could think further, Veronica’s voice cut through the air like a knife. “What’s that in your hand?”

I froze. “Nothing. Just a flyer.”

She appeared in the doorway, her high heels clicking against the tiles, her perfectly curled hair catching the morning light. She snatched the letter from me and read it. Her expression darkened.

“A scholarship? To Silverstone? Don’t make me laugh.” She slammed it down on the counter.

“Do you really think a school like that would want you? You can’t even cook bread without burning it.”

Her words stung, but I stayed quiet.

“Who sent it?” she demanded.

“I don’t know,” I said softly. “It was under the door.”

Veronica’s eyes narrowed. Without a word, she turned toward the fireplace, letter in hand.

My heart dropped. “Please don’t-”

But she had already thrown it in.

The flames swallowed the paper whole, and for a moment, I thought that was it. But then the fire changed color. The orange glow shifted into a deep, ghostly blue. A cold wind swept through the kitchen, rattling the windows. The ashes lifted into the air and spun like a storm of silver dust.

Veronica stumbled back. I stood frozen, staring at the unnatural flame.

When it finally went out, the only thing left in the ashes was the metallic blue card. It floated out of the fireplace and landed softly at my feet.

The crescent moon symbol pulsed once, as if alive.

I reached down and picked it up, feeling warmth against my palm. Veronica’s face was pale, her lips tight. She muttered something I didn’t understand and left the room.

For a long time, I stood there, staring at the card. It didn’t make sense, but somehow, it felt like it had been meant for me.

That night, I packed quietly. A few worn clothes, my mother’s silver necklace, and the mysterious card. My father hadn’t called in weeks, and Veronica barely looked at me. She didn’t stop me when I left. Maybe she was glad to see me go.

The next morning, I took the first train to Silverstone.

As the town faded behind me, I pressed my forehead against the window, watching fields blur past. For the first time in years, I felt something close to hope. But beneath it, there was something else too-a strange unease, like something was watching me.

When the train finally stopped, my breath caught.

Silverstone Academy stood on a hill surrounded by forests and mist. The gates were tall, black iron carved with wolves and moons. The air around it felt alive, humming faintly.

I stepped out of the cab, clutching my bag. The main building looked more like a gothic castle than a school, its towers scraping the sky. Students in black and silver uniforms crossed the courtyard. They looked confident, powerful, like they belonged. I felt invisible.

I was halfway to the entrance when I heard the roar of engines.

Three motorcycles stopped near the gates. The riders swung off their bikes, leather jackets gleaming in the sunlight.

They looked like they didn’t belong in any school.

The one in the middle leaned against his bike, dark hair falling over his eyes. His smirk was dangerous and lazy all at once.

“You’re blocking the road,” he said.

“I-I’m sorry.” I stepped aside quickly.

The one with silver piercings grinned. “You don’t look like our usual kind. Lost, sweetheart?”

The third didn’t speak. His eyes, golden like fire, locked on me. I felt something strange then, like the air between us thickened. He tilted his head slightly, as if he recognized something in me that I didn’t even know existed.

“Leave her alone, Damon,” the first one said.

Damon laughed. “Just saying hello.”

I looked down and hurried toward the building, my cheeks burning.

Behind me, I heard one of them say, “Did you feel that?”

“Yes,” another replied. “The air shifted.”

The quiet one spoke last. “She’s not ordinary. I can smell it.”

Their voices faded as I entered the main hall, but their words clung to me.

That night, in my new dorm room, I couldn’t sleep. The moonlight poured through the window, painting the floor in silver lines. I kept thinking about the letter, about the blue flames, about the way that golden-eyed boy had looked at me.

Then, suddenly, my back burned.

I gasped and ran to the mirror. My hands shook as I pulled down my collar. The mark on my skin-the one I had always thought was just a strange birthmark-was glowing softly, pulsing with light.

The air in the room grew colder. I felt a whisper brush against my ear.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

I spun around, but the room was empty. The lights flickered once, then went out completely.

My heart pounded as I pressed my hand over the mark, trying to steady my breath.

Outside, through the open window, the sound of howling rose from the forest. Three voices, wild and haunting, echoing under the same moonlight.

And deep inside me, something ancient and powerful stirred for the first time.

TBC