The moon hung low over the ancient iron gates of Blackmoor Academy, casting an eerie silver glow across the old forest. The gates, tall and arched with runes etched into the metal, groaned open as if they hadn't moved in centuries. A soft breeze danced through the trees, carrying whispers no human ear could hear.
A sleek black carriage pulled itself to a stop, though no horses were in sight—only a faint mist that twisted and slithered like living shadows around the wheels. The door creaked open slowly.
Out stepped Hope.
She wore a dark hoodie and combat boots, her emerald eyes glowing faintly beneath her hood. Her face was calm, expression unreadable—but her aura? Unmistakable. It wrapped around her like a storm held barely in check.
She wasn't normal. Not here, not anywhereShe was a tribrid—the only one known to exist. One-third witch, one-third vampire, one-third werewolf. A miracle. Or a mistake.
Her parents were dead. No graves, no closure—just stories of sacrifice, betrayal, and war. She had spent her life hidden, bouncing between safe houses and secret guardians. But no one could hide forever. And now, she was here. Blackmoor Academy, the one place where all three sides of her identity were supposed to find balance—or fall apart.
She took her first step onto the stone path and looked up at the school. The towering structure loomed against the night sky, all black spires, stained glass windows, and ancient enchantments pulsing through its walls. Students walked past—some laughing, some sparring, some floating or growling or casting sparks from their fingertips.
Werewolves. Vampires. Witches.
And her.Waiting at the top of the marble steps was Richard, the school's founder and headmaster. He looked like he belonged in a library, not a warzone—salt-and-pepper hair, tired eyes, and a long coat that hid more than chalk and notes. He was human. And yet he was the only one keeping this academy from tearing itself apart.
"Hope," he said, his voice warm but cautious. "We've been expecting you."
Hope stopped two steps below him. "I'm not here to make friends."
Richard gave a soft smile. "That's usually how the best friendships begin."
Flanking him were his two daughters.
Celeste, the older one, stood tall and graceful, her icy-blue eyes almost too observant. Her aura shimmered with controlled magic—she was an alchemist in training, already one of the top students. Cool, calm, and unreadable.
Jessa, the younger sister, had curly red hair, boots that looked like they'd kicked more than just doors open, and a bandaged knuckle on her left hand. She grinned openly at Hope.
"I like her," Jessa said, elbowing her father. "She looks like she could win a fight and set a library on fire in the same day."
"Let's not encourage that," Celeste murmured, but she was watching Hope with open curiosity.
As they entered the school, Hope felt dozens of eyes on her. The grand hall was alive with magical energy—portraits whispering, chandeliers floating, and a piano playing itself in the corner. Students paused mid-conversation to stare.
Whispers started instantly.
"Is that the tribrid?"
"She doesn't look that scary…"
"She's the one whose parents died in the Ashfall War, right?"
"She's trouble."Hope walked straight past them. She didn't need to prove anything.
At the edge of the room, leaning casually by the windows, was a boy with dark curls falling across his forehead. He wore a soft hoodie and held a worn leather notebook in his hands. He wasn't glowing. He wasn't growling. He wasn't casting spells.
He was just... normal.
London.
He looked up when Hope walked in. Their eyes met for less than a second. Something flickered behind his quiet gaze—like recognition. Or warning. Or fate.
Hope frowned and looked away. She didn't believe in fate.
But something about him felt... different.
She followed Richard and his daughters down a hallway lined with ancient artifacts. The air shimmered with protective"I should warn you," Richard said, glancing back at her. "There are others who won't be thrilled about your presence here."
Hope raised an eyebrow. "Let them try something."
"You might not want to be so eager about that," Celeste said softly. "This school has a history of turning people into what they fear most."
"Then they'll become me," Hope muttered.
Behind them, unseen, a pair of eyes watched from the shadows. Cold. Patient. Waiting.
Hope's arrival had sent a ripple through the supernatural world.
And Blackmoor Academy had just become the center of something much bigger than anyone realized.