Rhea Marlowe didn't believe in miracles. Especially not the kind that came in heavy cream-colored envelopes sealed with wax and stamped in silver.
But there it was.
Lying on the cracked kitchen table of her apartment, between a half-eaten apple and a pile of overdue bills. The wax seal shimmered with the emblem of an owl mid-flight, clutching a scroll in its talons. She had seen that symbol once before, on a forum post that vanished minutes after she read it.
Elaris Institute.
The kind of place whispered about in academic corners, where tech billionaires, Nobel Prize winners, and political powerhouses all seemed to have once gone, but no records could prove it.
Rhea hadn't applied.
She picked up the envelope, her name calligraphed in ink that shimmered faintly under the kitchen's flickering fluorescent light. Her fingers trembled as she cracked the seal.
> Congratulations.
You've been selected as one of thirty elite students invited to the Fall Class of the Elaris Institute.
Please arrive at Location REDACTED by August 17, 06:00 AM sharp. Transportation has been arranged.
All further instructions will follow in person.
Do not attempt to contact us.
We will find you.
No return address. No contact details. Just a train ticket enclosed, departure in two days.
Rhea stared at the letter for a long time, heart hammering.
She was smart, sure. Top of her class, even with two part-time jobs and a sister to take care of. But she wasn't a prodigy. She wasn't a hacker or an Olympiad gold medalist. And she certainly didn't belong at a school that didn't officially exist.
So why her?
She didn't tell anyone. Not her foster mother. Not her friends, what few she had left. Not even her little sister, who clung to her every night like the world might take Rhea away any second. Because maybe it would.
August 17 – 4:59 AM
The train station was almost empty. Fog curled along the edges of the platform like something alive. Rhea waited beside an old iron bench, clutching the leather satchel that held everything she owned.
At exactly 5:00, a single train screeched into the station—sleek, black, and utterly silent. No conductor. No announcement. The doors hissed open.
She hesitated for only a second. Then she stepped inside.
The inside was unnervingly beautiful—white velvet seats, polished oak tables, softly glowing orbs of light that followed her as she walked down the aisle. A handful of students already sat scattered through the car, each alone, eyes avoiding one another.
No one spoke.
Rhea took a seat by the window. As the train pulled away, her phone buzzed once.
Signal lost.
She wouldn't get it back.
Somewhere past sunrise, the doors opened again—and in walked a boy who made the air seem colder.
He was tall, all sharp edges and storm-gray eyes that scanned the room like he was hunting. His black coat looked expensive, and his presence immediately shifted the atmosphere, like everyone else had just become extras in his movie.
He slid into the seat across from her, without asking.
"Rhea Marlowe," he said, not a question.
She stiffened. "How do you know my name?"
He offered a small, unreadable smile. "They made a mistake letting you in."
The silence after that felt like a noose tightening.
"Excuse me?" she asked, voice low.
"You weren't supposed to be chosen," he said, watching her reaction like a scientist observing a test subject. "But now you're here. And once you enter Elaris… you don't leave."
The train plunged into a tunnel, and everything went dark for a moment. When the lights flickered back, he was gone.
So was her letter.
Only a single slip of paper lay on the table where it had been.
> "The Order is always watching.
Speak no secrets.
Trust no one."