The air inside Edevane Academy was colder than outside. Not the chill of weather, but of silence, ancient, waiting. Adaeze stepped across the threshold as the doors closed behind her with a deep, resonant thud that echoed through the vast foyer.
The entrance hall was cathedral-like, lined with dark wood paneling and high arches. The chandeliers above flickered with candlelight, not electric bulbs, but actual flames. Shadows moved in impossible directions. She swore the walls subtly breathed.
"You made it," said the voice again.
A woman emerged from the shadows, her features sharp and ageless, her eyes a strange shade of violet. She wore a long, charcoal robe fastened with silver clasps. No name tag, no greeting, just that eerie smile.
"I am Matron Elira. I oversee new arrivals."
Adaeze nodded cautiously. "Am I the only one who came today?"
The matron's smile widened. "You're the last one expected. Follow me."
They moved through silent halls that twisted and turned like the corridors of a dream. Paintings lined the walls, portraits of scholars whose eyes seemed to follow her. Some frames were empty, their canvases scorched. A fire? Or something else?
Finally, they arrived at a small office lit by a single oil lamp. A desk sat in the center, and on it, another envelope, this one white, sealed with black wax.
"Your orientation materials," said Matron Elira. "Class schedule, map, dorm assignment. Room 237. North Tower."
Adaeze picked up the envelope. Her name was written in the same golden script as the black one.
"What exactly is this scholarship?" she asked. "Why me?"
Matron Elira's expression did not change, but the warmth dropped another ten degrees.
"The Wraith's Scholarship is not given. It is summoned. It finds those whom knowledge seeks, even if they don't know they're searching."
That didn't answer anything, but something told Adaeze she wouldn't get a clearer response.
She followed the matron down another hallway toward the stairwell. A massive stained-glass window rose beside them, depicting a circle of twelve robed figures around a scholar bowed in offering. Blood pooled at his feet, and ghostly wraiths hovered above.
"Your journey began with a ticket," Elira said softly. "But understand this, Miss Nwosu, there are no return trips. Once knowledge is granted, it cannot be returned. Once the pact is made, it cannot be broken."
Adaeze felt the weight of her suitcase in one hand and the envelope in the other. Her throat tightened.
One-way.
Not just the flight.
Her entire life.