Shadows in the Dark

Rain had been falling since morning, turning the Academy’s stone courtyards slick and the air heavy with dampness. Classes ended earlier than usual, but most students lingered indoors, gathered in the warmth of the dining hall or the libraries. I’d hoped to retreat into my dorm and disappear beneath the sheets for the evening, to forget for a while that the whole school seemed to view me as a walking disaster.

But fate—or someone’s design—had other plans.

By nightfall, the first whispers reached us: Serenya hadn’t returned.

“She was in the library,” Amara said, frowning as she shut her book with more force than necessary. “She stayed behind to finish her research, but that was hours ago.”

“That’s not like her,” Selindra murmured, her voice as calm as ever but her eyes betraying unease. “Serenya never loses track of time.”

Duric—who was rarely serious about anything—paced in a circle, his boots slapping against the polished marble floor. “Maybe she fell asleep on a pile of scrolls? Wouldn’t be the first time.”

But no one laughed. Not even Cedric, whose jaw had been tight for weeks, every word to me clipped and suspicious.

“I’ll go look,” Amara declared, already striding toward the door. Cedric followed without hesitation, Selindra after them. Duric hesitated, glanced at me, then shook his head. “Stay here,” he muttered.

I clenched my fists. Stay here. As if I hadn’t been part of the group from the start. As if I were the threat, not the friend.

Minutes stretched into hours. The bells tolled curfew. Still, Serenya didn’t return. And then, the alarm sounded—three sharp clangs that reverberated through the Academy, a signal no one could ignore.

She had been found.

We rushed to the eastern courtyard, where lanterns threw shaky circles of light onto the slick cobblestones. Two guards carried Serenya between them, her body limp, her silver-blonde hair plastered to her face with rain and mud. The sight rooted me to the spot. Serenya, always so composed, always so gentle—reduced to this broken, trembling figure.

Gasps rippled through the gathered crowd.

The headmaster pushed forward, his robes trailing in the puddles. “What happened? Speak, child!” His voice rang harsh in the night.

Serenya stirred. Her lips trembled, her eyes fluttering half-open, but she seemed to see nothing—not us, not the guards, not even the lantern light. And then, in a voice so faint it was almost drowned out by the patter of rain, she whispered:

“He… is not… human.”

The words struck like lightning.

For a heartbeat, silence reigned. Then, whispers erupted, swelling like a tide.
“Not human?”
“She must mean Redcliffe—he was always strange—”
“Of course it’s him, who else?”

I staggered back. “No—she doesn’t mean me—she can’t—”

But eyes turned. Dozens of them. Suspicion sharpened into certainty, like blades drawn in unison.

“Restrain him,” the headmaster snapped.

“What?!” My voice cracked, desperate, as the guards advanced. “You can’t possibly believe this! She’s delirious!”

“Every accident. Every mishap. Every fire, every injury—you at the center, always!” one instructor barked. His face twisted with the same disdain he’d shown me since the first week. “And now even Princess Serenya speaks the truth.”

“She’s unconscious!” I shouted, backing away. My heels slipped against the wet stones. “You can’t use her words—she doesn’t even know what she’s saying!”

But my protests were swallowed by the crowd’s murmurs, by the guards’ heavy hands clamping around my arms. Cold iron shackles, etched with glowing runes, snapped around my wrists. My magic cut off in an instant, leaving me hollow.

“No!” I struggled, but the grip was unyielding. “You’re making a mistake! I didn’t do anything!”

The royals stood apart, their faces pale and stricken. Amara shook her head over and over, lips parted as if to speak—but no sound came. Cedric’s eyes burned, suspicion winning over friendship. Duric, for once without a joke, looked away, shame flickering across his face. Selindra’s gaze was cold, assessing, as though already weighing evidence for and against me.

And Serenya… Serenya was carried away to the infirmary, unconscious again, her damning words echoing louder than the rain.

Dragged toward the detention wing, I lifted my head, searching the crowd one last time.

That was when I saw them.

The student council.

They stood near the courtyard’s edge, cloaked in shadows, their uniforms pristine even in the downpour. Not one of them had spoken during the uproar. Not one of them had tried to calm the chaos. They simply watched.

And Valen—their silver-haired leader—met my gaze across the rain-slick stones. His lips curled into the faintest of smirks.

Just for a heartbeat. Then it was gone, replaced by polite concern as he leaned toward another council member and whispered something too soft to hear.

The guards shoved me forward. The crowd parted. The whispers followed.

Monster.
Not human.
Demon.

Each word clung to me like the rain soaking my clothes, seeping into my bones.

By the time the iron gates of the detention wing closed behind me, I knew one thing with chilling certainty:

Whoever had taken Serenya, whoever had planted those words on her tongue, had succeeded.

And I was alone.