Blackmoor Academy had a silence about it when night fell. Not peaceful, not comforting—but expectant. Like the castle itself was holding its breath.
It started with the lights.
One by one, the lanterns along the east wall flickered out—unnoticed, at first, because no one was supposed to be near the Forbidden Wing after dark. But the night patrol—three upper-year vampires—noticed the cold spreading beneath their feet.
Then the howling began.
Not werewolves. Not anything known.
It was hollow. Deep. Like something ancient had awoken in the forest beyond the wards.
Richard was in his office when the runes etched into his floor began to glow blood-red. The protective barrier around the school stuttered. For a second, it went completely down.He bolted upright.
"JESSA! CELESTE!"
But they weren't in their rooms.
---
Meanwhile, Hope was in the North Tower library, reading with London by candlelight. He was thumbing through a book about phoenix legends, and she was trying to focus, but something felt wrong.
Too quiet.
Too still.
She stood and moved to the window. Her breath fogged the glass.
"Do you feel that?" she whispered.
London closed his book. "Yeah. Something's—off."
Suddenly, the glass behind Hope cracked like ice under a boot.She turned.
"MOVE!"
London tackled her just as the window exploded inward—something inhuman crashing through in a blur of black and steel.
The creature landed where she'd been standing. It was tall—nearly skeletal—but armored in bone and shadow. No eyes. Just slits of burning blue fire for a face.
Hope rolled to her feet, instinct kicking in. Her hands glowed silver. "What is that?"
London pulled a blade from beneath his coat. "Not friendly."
The creature roared—soundless but deafening—and lunged.
---
Across campus, Raphael was mid-shift when he heard the sirens go off—enchanted bells that hadn't rung in twenty years. He sprinted across the courtyard, claws ready, only to find two stone gargoyles moving on their own—crushing enchantedonly to find two stone gargoyles moving on their own—crushing enchanted statues and snapping at fleeing students.
"BLACKMOOR IS UNDER ATTACK!" a professor shouted, drawing a line of flame across the cobbled path. "TO THE BUNKERS!"
Celeste stood at the top of the stairs, eyes wide. But not with fear—with fascination.
Something powerful had entered the school.
And it wasn't Hope.
---
Back in the library, Hope hurled a blast of combined magic—fire, ice, wind—into the creature. It staggered, but didn't fall.
"Why won't it go down?!" she yelled.
London ducked beneath a clawed swipe. "Because it doesn't belong here. It's not from this realm!""How do you know?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he grabbed her hand, eyes burning with something ancient. "Trust me."
Their hands touched—and light exploded from between their palms.
The creature shrieked and recoiled as flame—phoenix fire—poured from London's body in a flash. Hope shielded her eyes. When she looked again, the creature was gone—ash on the floor.
London stood panting, his skin glowing faintly gold.
Hope stared at him.
"You—you used fire," she whispered. "You don't have powers."
London looked at his hands.
"I didn't," he said.Far away, in a forgotten part of the forest, a figure watched the burning light fade from the school tower.
She wore a student uniform.
Her eyes shimmered violet—unnatural.
And she smiled.
"One down."