They walked through a maze of winding corridors. A few ancient oil paintings lined the walls, their subjects staring mournfully back. Dust lingered like shadows in the corners.
"The East Wing is exclusively for female students," Morgana said. "I'll be taking you to your room."
Her tone was cryptic. Deliberate.
Shannon nodded absently, stormy grey eyes still etched in her memory, thoughts juggling wildly in her head.
"Rules are strict at Verdes," Morgana continued. "Curfew is at nine. No wandering beyond your wing at night. Lights out by ten. Some halls are... under restoration. Stay clear of those areas. And the forest surrounding the school is off-limits."
"Why?" Shannon asked, finally speaking. That one bit had caught her attention.
"There've been... incidents," Morgana replied smoothly. "Nothing to concern yourself with, of course," she purred.
They stopped before a heavy oak door at the end of the corridor. A metal plate above it read: East Room 17.
Morgana pushed it open.
Shannon blinked. Her jaw nearly dropped—though she wasn't sure if it was from shock or awe. Perhaps a mix of both.
The room looked plucked from another century. Grey stone walls, cool and uneven to the touch. A tall arched window let in a thin stream of cloudy light. In the corner stood an ornate armoire, carved with wolves and moons. A fireplace—recently used—rested near the foot of a high four-poster bed draped in crimson velvet.
Candles flickered in iron sconces on the wall.
The air smelled faintly of aged wood and something wild—pine needles... and something less definable.
"This is your space," Morgana announced. "Meals are served in the Canteen. You'll receive your class schedule tomorrow."
"Your bags have already been brought in. Though you'll be given trunks and a chest."
Shannon stepped in behind her. "It's... certainly unique." She couldn't think of more befitting words.
She had never been to a place like this—where ancient customs still thrived.
Morgana offered a thin smile. "We value tradition. Change disturbs the balance."
Shannon flinched. The woman's words unnervingly mirrored her thoughts.
"Oh." She nodded, lips pressing tight.
"With that, I'll leave you. Get comfortable—and don't forget the rules."
The door shut with a heavy thud, releasing a flood of relief through Shannon.
She walked the room warily, then made her way to the armoire to check Morgana's claim.
Her belongings were indeed heaped inside. She began arranging them, aiming for some semblance of order.
Her phone beeped from her purse.
Shannon pulled it out.
A message.
DAIN
"Settling in?"
A small, imperceptible smile curled her lips. Her expression softened.
She sighed.
Her fingers tapped across the screen.
"Trying."
Dain had been her neighbor back in Armstery Town—the only boy whose presence didn't remind her of her insanity—the way others often made her feel.
They'd been in the same class back at her old school. She could still recall his face when she told him she was leaving. He'd looked sullen—then quickly tried to hide it with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Shannon's fingers grazed her right cheek, the memory still vivid.
He had kissed her there and said, "Whenever you come back, I'll be here waiting."
The words echoed now, as clearly as if he'd just spoken them.
She stared at the three little typing bubbles.
Her phone buzzed again.
"I miss you."
She read it once.
Then twice.
Ten times.
Her thumb hovered above the screen. So many 'what ifs' tangled in her mind. A voice inside pulled her back—Guilt bled through her like ink in water—he was a light she didn't deserve, not with the shadows already clawing at her heels.
In the end, she didn't reply. Her fingers pressed on the button and the lit screen dimmed in her hand.
Sighing, she tossed the phone onto the bed and resumed unpacking. She wanted to finish before twilight.
A few minutes later…
A bell rang out—loud and jarring. Shannon winced.
She jerked her head up from where she was squatting.
It rang again.
A third time.
And then a fourth time.
What the hell did that mean?
She stood slowly, confusion furrowing her brow.
Then she remembered: the envelope Morgana had given her.
She grabbed the large brown packet from the dorm desk, tore it open, and spilled its contents.
Papers—documents stapled together. The cover page had her name, date of birth, and academic profile.
Then she found the one that mattered.
DORMITORY RULES AND REGULATIONS
She sat on the bed, ignoring its comfort, and read:
> A bell signals specific daily events. The number of chimes indicates:
One chime – Warning bell
Two chimes – Student training sessions
Three chimes – Assembly or announcements
Four chimes – Emergency (students must gather at the designated safety point immediately)
Her brows drew tight. Her heart kicked against her ribs at the fourth clause.
Still, she continued reading.
> 2. General Conduct
—All residents must maintain discipline, observe quiet hours, and adhere to curfew regulations.
3. Violation Consequences
—Any breach of these rules may result in disciplinary action.
She flipped the paper—blank. "What are those actions?" She whisper underneath her breath.
Frowning deeper, she found another sheet beneath it.
CRUCIAL INFORMATION
> 1. Visitation Policy —Visitors are only allowed on the last weekend of each month. Approval required.
2. Electronic Device Restriction —Phones and other devices are prohibited. Unauthorized items will be confiscated.
Shannon's eyes widened. "Unbelievable," she whispered, rereading it in disbelief.
She completely ignored the bell's meaning, too caught up in the words.
> 3. Withdrawal Policy —Students cannot withdraw unless in extreme cases of near-death experience.
Her lips parted in shock.
"What the fuck?!"
She might've laughed—would've, even—if it sounded like a joke.
But it didn't.
Not even a little.
A cold, creeping stillness settled in her chest. The kind that didn't just chill skin—it crawled deeper, wrapped itself around bone.
Her hands went limp, the paper slipping from her fingers like dead weight.
The room, once merely old, now seemed sentient. Watching. Listening.
The flickering candlelight stuttered—once, twice—before flaring back to life as if gasping.
She couldn't breathe.
This place is wrong.
Every instinct screamed it.
Her stomach churned violently. The air was too thick, like it hadn't been moved in decades.
The rules…
The words…
They weren't just guidelines. They were warnings.
Her mother had sent her here, clueless—believing this school could fix her.
But something here was broken. Something ancient—Yet alive.
And now…
There was no way out.