The envelope was waiting on the doorstep when Elara came home from work.
It didn't have a stamp. No name. No address.
Just a smooth, jet-black silk ribbon tied in a perfect bow, and a wax seal in blood red—stamped with a symbol she didn't recognize: a circle of thorns around an eye.
She turned it over in her hands. The paper was thick and cold like stone. Her name wasn't written anywhere, but somehow... she knew it was for her.
A shiver ran down her spine.
Elara looked up. The street was quiet. The streetlights flickered. Rain was starting to fall, soft and slow, like ash. She slipped the envelope into her coat pocket and hurried inside.
Her apartment was barely more than a box: mattress, bookshelf, kettle, cracked window. She'd lived there alone since last winter, when her last foster home locked her out for the final time. She didn't bother turning on the lights. The city glow outside was enough.
She sat on the edge of her mattress, the envelope in her lap.
Something about it felt... wrong.
But she untied the silk ribbon.
The seal broke on its own with a soft hiss, like something breathing.
Inside was a single sheet of parchment. Handwritten, with sharp, spidery letters:
You have been accepted to Hollowmoor Academy.
Full scholarship.
Orientation begins October 1st.
Pack only what you cannot live without.
The train will come at midnight.
Do not be late.
Do not tell anyone.
Below the message, a signature:
—H. Aldcroft, Headmaster
No contact number. No location. No school crest.
Just a train. At midnight.
Elara stared at the letter for a long time.
There was no way it was real. She hadn't applied to anything. She didn't even finish high school. Who would give her a scholarship?
But she couldn't ignore how the letter felt.
Heavy. Serious. Like a promise she didn't remember making.
Or a threat she didn't understand.
She stood up and turned on the light.
And that's when she saw it.
Blood.
Her thumb was bleeding—just a thin line—but enough to drip onto the letter.
The paper drank it.
The red drop vanished as soon as it touched the parchment, soaking in with a hiss.
The ink on the page shimmered, like it had come alive.
And a new line appeared at the bottom, freshly written:
We accept your blood. The contract is sealed.
She threw the letter across the room.
"What the hell—"
Her heart was racing. She wiped her thumb on her sleeve, but it was already healed. Not even a scar.
The letter lay motionless on the floor, completely dry.
Elara backed away from it, breathing hard.
This had to be a joke. Some rich-kid prank. Magic schools weren't real. That was stuff from books, not real life. Not hers.
And yet…
At exactly midnight, her apartment windows rattled. The floor shook. A deep, low sound rumbled through the air, like distant thunder—or train wheels on tracks.
She looked outside.
Through the rain and the fog, down the alley behind her building, a train was passing.
No tracks. No lights. Just a black iron engine, steaming and silent.
And it was slowing down.
Stopping.
For her.