Moonlit Academy

The acceptance letter had arrived on Luna's eighteenth birthday, carried by a raven with eyes like molten gold. Her parents had stared at it in disbelief—magic wasn't supposed to run in their family.

Three months later, she stood at the gates of the Moonlit Academy, her trunk floating behind her—one of the few spells she'd managed to master.

"First year?" A voice like aged whiskey made her spin around. Viktor Draven leaned against a gothic pillar, his pale features illuminated by the rising moon.

Luna's heart did something it definitely shouldn't have done. "Is it that obvious?"

His lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "You still have hope in your eyes. Give it a semester."

"Is that supposed to be a warning?"

Viktor stepped closer, and Luna caught the faint scent of old books and something darker. "Consider it friendly advice. This place has a way of changing people."

"Maybe," Luna said, surprising herself with her boldness, "I'll be the one to change it."

For the first time, something like interest flickered in his ancient eyes.