Chapter 2
TWO
LINDSAY
I step through the portal, and the world rips out from under me.
There’s no floor. No sky. No air.
Just color and sound and motion; too much of it.
Gold threads spiral past my skin like veins of lightning.
Deep violet shadows curl around my ankles.
I’m falling and floating at the same time, weightless and heavy.
A low thrumming fills my ears, deeper than sound, like something old is watching and measuring.
I choke back a curse. My stomach flips, my head spins, my body has no clue which way is up. This is worse than the single time I went on a roller coaster. So much worse. I’m going to be sick.
"Should’ve stayed in bed," I mutter through gritted teeth, my voice snatched away by the windless pressure.
The threads tighten. The shadows pulse.
Then…snap. My feet hit solid ground. Hard enough to rattle my teeth. I stagger forward, grab empty air, and nearly eat cobblestone.
Cobblestone?
I shake my head to clear it. What kind of Alice in Wonderland shit is this?
The man from the diner stands a pace ahead. Completely unruffled. Like we didn’t just step through a goddamn dimensional blender.
I suck in a shaky breath.
The portal is gone. Nothing but a towering iron gate stands in front of us now, runes writhing across the bars as if they are alive. Beyond it is a castle. Not a fairy tale one. Not even Hogwarts.
This place is awake. The stone breathes.
The spires twist high into a sky that looks too dark for daylight, ink-black clouds veined with silver and blue that matches my hair.
Arched windows glow from within, deep crimson and amber.
Iron balconies hang at impossible angles, tilting sideways in ways no one could actually use.
The whole place almost seems to vibrate with something I can't name, low and constant. A pulse I can feel in my bones. My mouth goes dry. This isn’t a school.
It’s a predator, dressed in stone. I wouldn't be surprised if real-life gargoyles perch on the rooftops, ready to swoop down and carry you off, and Dracula roams the halls.
Definitely not in Kansas anymore. The gates shudder. Then creak open with a groan that feels too loud in the still air. A figure waits just beyond.
Tall. Robed in dark colors. Pale-eyed beneath a deep hood. The air shifts as my so-called escort moves. I scramble to follow. The man lowers his hood. Not as young as the one beside me, not as cold, but the same inhuman stillness clings to him.
“Miss Blake,” he says. “Welcome to Blackthorn Academy. I am Headmaster Veyne.”
I manage a nod. My voice refuses to cooperate.
Veyne’s gaze flicks to the man next to me. “You’ve done your part.”
The other man inclines his head once. No farewell. No glance my way. Then he turns and walks away, coat flaring behind him, and strides across a wide open quad. Students part for him, as if they don’t want to be within touching distance of him.
“You’ll find admissions up ahead in that gray building on your right, the secretary will assign your dorm, and you can get settled. Your things will be brought to your room.”
I shake my head, trying to wrap my head around this place still. “My things?”
“Clothing. Necessities. That sort of stuff.” He waves his hand in the air as if it is all trivial.
I nod, as if any of this is normal. He returns my nod as if the conversation is over, and he turns and walks away.
“Okay,” I draw out the word and rock back on my sneakers.
And just like that—I’m alone.
Fine.
I square my shoulders and head toward the gray building, through a massive arch into what looks like it could be an admin wing. That, and it is in the direction he pointed.
A polished brass plaque reads ADMISSIONS next to the door. This is it.
Inside, the air is cold. And it's brighter. Too sterile after the pulsing magic outside. A desk waits at the far end of the walk-in office. Behind it there’s a woman with slicked-back hair, ink-stained fingers, and an expression like she smells something unpleasant. Her gaze lands on me and narrows.
“Name?” she snaps.
“Lindsay Blake,” I manage.
Her fingers dance across a crystal-topped slate. Light flickers. Symbols scroll in the open air.
“Hmph.” Her mouth twists. “Human. Has to be a mistake. Above my pay grade.”
She doesn’t bother hiding the disdain.
“Overflow dorm. Fourth floor. East wing.” She shoves a folded map with a schedule across the desk, not meeting my eyes. “Orientation starts tomorrow. Dismissed.”
Dismissed. Just like that. I pocket the schedule, grip the map, and turn before I say something that’ll get me hexed. Because I’m pretty sure she might have some kind of magic.
So this is how it’s going to be.
I step out of Admissions gripping the stupid folded map like it’s going to save me. I’m pretty sure it won’t.
The thing looks hand-drawn, like actual ink blotches, smudged corners, half the names faded, and a stain that looks suspiciously like coffee. Fourth floor, east wing, overflow dorm circled in red. That’s it. No directions. No magical glowing arrow. Nothing.
Which would be fine if I wasn’t in a castle where people are literally summoning staircases out of thin air.
I pass a girl floating her bag behind her, like it’s on magical strings.
I dodge a trio of sleek-uniformed girls whose books shuffle themselves mid-air.
A guy in silver robes taps a rune and disappears straight through a wall.
Meanwhile, I’m squinting at this crayon map like a freshman on her first day of public school.
Real subtle, I think grimly. Guess we know who doesn’t belong.
I’m sure there is probably some kind of magical enchantment to get me where I’m going. If any of this is real. I mean, magic? Magic isn’t real. Maybe I bumped my head, and I’m unconscious on my apartment floor. I hope someone finds me.
The halls twist and sprawl. Archways open into massive courtyards where magic hums thick in the air.
Spiral staircases shift when I’m not looking.
The whole place feels like it’s breathing; gorgeous, surreal, and about two seconds from eating me alive.
By the time I find the east wing, my feet ache, and I’m ready to throw the damn map in the nearest trash.
An iron-banded door looms at the top of a narrow side stair—marked Overflow Housing in barely legible script.
Charming.
I shove the door open and immediately duck as a paper bird dives past my head.
“What the hell—”
“You must be new.”
A voice lilts from above. I look up.
A girl perches halfway over the railing of the landing just inside the doorway, red curls spilling down, a wicked grin on her face.
“Tamsin,” she says cheerfully, swinging over the rail to land beside me with a dancer’s grace. She sticks out a hand. “Welcome to the land of misfits and overflow.”
I shake her hand automatically. “Lindsay.”
Her grin widens. “Oh, I heard about you already.”
My stomach sinks. “You did? What did you hear?”
Can this place get any stranger?
“There are no real secrets at Blackthorn.” She loops an arm through mine like we’ve been best friends since we were babies, and tugs me inside, leading me up a small staircase to the landing she just hopped down from.
“Come on. I’ll show you which beds don’t creak like dying things.
You’re human, right? That part was true?
” she adds, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
I freeze. “What do you mean, human?”
Tamsin doesn’t even blink. “Relax,” she says, eyes dancing. “Some of us don’t care. But word’s out. You might wanna brace for a rough start tomorrow.”
“For what?” I ask.
She nods, steering me toward a hallway. “First classes, first impressions, first round of assholes trying to test and knock you down. It’s tradition.”
Fantastic. Magical school hazing, can’t wait.
She tugs me down a dim hallway, the iron-banded door I came through swinging shut down below with a metallic thud.
The air up here is cooler. Stale, with a faint trace of herbs and something else that is acrid, similar to the aftermath of a storm, sorta like the smell of the letter when I first opened it.
Overflow housing. I’m officially here.
Tamsin weaves us through a maze of narrow corridors, uneven floors, faded tapestries that cover windows, more shadows than light. The walls hum faintly, but not in the alive way the rest of the Academy does. More like…it's been forgotten.
We step into the main dorm space—a long, high-ceilinged room lined with eight mismatched beds on each side of the room and sagging curtains. A cracked fireplace sits cold at one end.
A few students glance up. Most don’t bother. One girl near the far wall lets out an audible scoff and turns away.
“Home sweet home,” Tamsin says brightly, tugging me toward an open bed near the window. “Best spot left. Trust me.”
I stare at all of the other students. “Are they all…?”
“Overflow?” She grins. “Yep. Late admits, troublemakers, half-bloods…like me, scholarship kids. And now—” she winks “—humans.”
That earns me another sideways glance. Whatever. Let them look.
Tamsin pats the mattress. “This one’s not cursed. Probably. Sheets are…fine. Just ward your stuff.”
Ward my stuff? What stuff? How would I even do that? I must have a deer-in-headlights look in my eyes, because she lifts her eyebrows and drops onto the bed next to the one she suggested I take.
“Right, I’ll help you once they bring up your things,” she says with a grin.
I sink onto the bed. Springs groan beneath me. Not exactly five-star, but it beats being shadow food. She swings her legs back and forth and pins me with a curious look.
“So,” she says, eyes bright. “How’d you land here, mystery girl?”
I snort. “Got a letter. Shadow monsters tried to kill me. Creepy escort dragged me through a portal. You know. Normal Tuesday. You?”
She laughs, a full, delighted sound. “Oh, you’re going to be fun. As for me, this is my second year, half-blood scholarship kid. I’m half fae, half witch.”
Tamsin lets me breathe for all of two minutes before she bounces to her feet.
“Come on,” she says, tugging me up. “You need food. And trust me—you don’t want to be late to dinner. The Houses notice.”
“Houses?” I echo, grabbing my map and trying to keep up as she speeds toward the stairs.
She waves a hand. “Yeah. Blackthorn’s split into four. Blood, Bone, Veil, and Fang. You’ll meet reps at orientation, but… unofficially?” She grins again. “It’s all politics and power games.”
Great. Just what I need.
We wind down staircase after staircase, passing clusters of students in midnight robes or shimmering cloaks, casually working magic like it’s nothing. Floating books. Whispered wards. One girl literally floating three inches above the floor.
I pinch myself. Hard. This has to be a fever dream—too much ice cream too close to bed. But I don’t wake up, and yeah, it hurts.
Tamsin keeps talking. “Hierarchy’s brutal.
First Blood witches and warlocks at the top—oldest lines, purest magic, really strong…
you get it. Everyone else falls somewhere below.
Shifters are the protectors. Fae are tricksters.
Scholarship and Half-blood students are just tokens to appear diverse.
Mundanes…well.” Her glance is quick. Pitying.
“Humans? They don’t usually get in at all. I think you’re the first in years.”
“Yeah, I’m getting that vibe,” I mutter, eyes darting to another student openly staring at me as we pass.
We round a corner, and the space opens up. The dining hall is like walking into a wall of sound and spice.
Vaulted ceilings stretch impossibly high, charmed stars glittering across the stone.
Massive windows show an endless night sky, even though it’s still day outside.
The air hums thick with the sound I’m starting to associate with magic; floating platters, shimmering goblets, voices twined with subtle glamour.
“How is this even…?” I whisper.
Tamsin smirks. “First time always hits hard. You get used to it.”
I’m trying to take it all in when a group of students sweeps past in a combination of silver and crimson robes, subtle runes glowing on cuffs. The air chills around them. The one at the front slows.
Tall. Pale hair. Eyes like frost to match his silver robe. A sneer already curling his lips.
Next to me, Tamsin stiffens. “That’s Auron Draven,” she whispers quickly. “First blood. Blood House heir. He’s not nice. Careful.”
He stops directly in our path. His gaze rakes over me, head to toe. Cold. Dismissive.
“So this is the stray Kael dragged in,” he says icily. Loud enough for nearby students to hear.
Heat flushes my cheeks, even though I have nothing to be ashamed of. I open my mouth to reply and tell him exactly where he could shove his words, but Tamsin grabs my arm. A subtle shake of her head as she tugs me away.
“Come on. Not worth it.”
Auron smiles. Razor-thin. “Smart advice. You won’t last long here, human.”
Then he’s brushing past, vanishing into the crowd, leaving frost in his wake. I exhale slowly. My fists are clenched without realizing.
“Asshole,” Tamsin says cheerfully, dragging me toward an empty table. “He’s always like that. He thinks he’s better than everyone, but that’s probably because he’s really powerful. Don’t let it stick.”
Easier said than done. As I sink onto the bench, my mind’s racing. Magic. Houses. Hierarchies. Enemies. And tomorrow—Orientation.
Where apparently the real games begin.
She winks. “Stick with me, and you might survive.”