Adaeze stood before the North Tower, her breath forming soft clouds in the chilled Welsh air. A heavy mist clung to the stone walls like ivy, and the structure itself loomed over her like an ancient sentinel. She clutched the white envelope tighter as she climbed the creaking stairs to Room 237. Each footfall echoed like a whisper of warning.
The dormitory hallway was dim, lit only by flickering sconces and the occasional glint of moonlight through the arched windows. Room 237 was near the end, its wooden door slightly ajar. She pushed it open, revealing a space both beautiful and unnerving.
Two twin beds with dark oak frames sat on opposite sides of the room. Heavy velvet drapes obscured the windows, and a bookshelf lined the far wall, already filled with aged tomes bound in leather and chains. A single lamp flickered on the desk, revealing dust motes swirling in the golden light. But what drew Adaeze's attention most was the mirror hanging between the beds.
Her reflection stared back at her, except it wasn't quite right. Her eyes looked a little too wide. Her smile a little too slow.
Adaeze turned away.
She set her suitcase on the bed nearest the window and opened the envelope. As she read the schedule, something odd jumped out at her: a class simply titled "Midnight Study" held three nights a week in a room that didn't appear on the map.
She was still processing it when there came a knock at her door.
Standing there was a girl with tightly braided black hair and skin the color of sun-kissed bronze. She wore the academy's uniform, a dark blazer, white blouse, and a strange brooch shaped like an eye.
"You must be the girl from Jos," the girl said, smiling. "I'm Clara. Your roommate. Finally."
Adaeze smiled back, though it was hesitant. "Finally?"
Clara stepped inside, closing the door with a soft click. "They said I'd get a roommate this semester. Been here for two years. No one ever stayed."
"Why not?"
Clara shrugged, tossing her bag on the other bed. "They either left or... disappeared."
Adaeze's heart skipped. "Like, expelled?"
Clara didn't answer immediately. Instead, she began unpacking, casually speaking as though discussing the weather. "Edevane doesn't expel students. They simply vanish. Their names vanish from the records. Professors forget them. Even their rooms erase all traces. Like they were never here."
Adaeze sat down slowly. "And you're okay with that?"
Clara gave a sharp laugh. "No one's okay with it. But we're all here for a reason. Most of us were chosen. Some of us were... taken."
Adaeze tilted her head. "Taken?"
Clara stopped what she was doing. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "You're from Jos, right? Nigeria?"
Adaeze nodded. "Zarmaganda, precisely."
Clara stared at her. "Do you remember any odd dreams before the letter came? Whispers you couldn't place? A voice calling you by name in languages you didn't understand?"
Adaeze thought for a second. She remembered. A week before the black envelope arrived, she'd dreamt of walking through a forest of books where the trees whispered in Igbo and Latin. She'd woken up with a scratch on her arm shaped like a rune she later found drawn on the envelope.
"You're not the first," Clara said. "The Wraiths call from different places. Nigeria. Romania. India. Brazil. Places with old bloodlines, old power. Jos is a hotbed of ley lines and spiritual fractures. They've been watching you for a while."
Adaeze wanted to laugh it off. Tell Clara she was being dramatic. But nothing about Edevane allowed room for normal explanations.
"So what happens to the ones who stay?" she asked.
Clara walked over to the mirror. She stared at their reflections, her fingers gently brushing the frame.
"We learn. We adapt. We obey the rules. And when we don't, we either become part of the legend... or part of the school."
The mirror darkened for a moment. Adaeze swore she saw another girl standing beside Clara, one whose mouth was open in a silent scream.
She blinked. The figure vanished.
"And if I want to leave?" Adaeze asked.
Clara turned, her expression grim.
"You can't. Edevane isn't just a school. It's a gate. And you walked through it the moment you accepted the scholarship. There's no going back. Not unless you break the pact."
Adaeze leaned back against the headboard. She thought of her parents, weeping and searchi for her, Of the strange old woman at the market who warned, "Some gifts are curses in disguise."
And she thought of the black envelope that had no return address.
"I would have just listened to my parents and stayed back. I guess curiosity does kill the cat." She thought.
She was the girl from Jos. And she wasn't alone anymore. But she was trapped.