Blackmere University looked exactly how I imagined a place that destroyed lives would.
Ancient. Expensive. Drenched in legacy and lies.
Stone pillars, arched walkways, and vines climbing across hundred-year-old buildings like they were trying to escape. Everything smelled like rain and privilege. Even the air had an attitude.
I adjusted the strap on my fraying backpack and stepped through the front gates like I hadn't been having second thoughts since I got off the train.
No one here knew me. And I liked it that way.
But they'd know my name eventually. Especially him.
Because I didn't come to Blackmere for the scholarship.
I came to uncover what happened to my sister.
Her name was Lila Monroe. A rising star on campus. Until she wasn't.
She died here two years ago.
Fell from the roof of the humanities building.
They said it was an accident.
They whispered suicide.
I knew better.
Lila didn't fall. She was pushed — whether by someone or something.
And I wasn't leaving until I knew who did it.
I pushed through a pair of heavy oak doors into the main hall. It looked like a cathedral — echoey, cold, and too damn perfect. The polished floors reflected back a version of me I barely recognized: jeans that didn't fit right, hair tied in a messy bun, hoodie two sizes too big.
Invisible.
That was the plan, anyway.
Until I opened the classroom door and walked straight into a buzzsaw of stares.
Conversations paused. Heads turned.
Like I was the plot twist no one saw coming.
"That's the new girl," someone whispered. "Transfer. Mid-year."
Another girl leaned over, her designer bag spilling onto the floor. "Why now? No one transfers to Blackmere mid-year unless they're hiding something."
I kept my head down and slid into a seat in the middle row. Neutral territory. Not front-row try-hard, not back-row rebel.
I was here to observe. Not to be observed.
But fate had other ideas.
A beat later, the door swung open behind me — and the energy shifted.
Like an invisible storm rolled in and everyone just braced for it.
I didn't even have to turn around. I felt it.
The stare.
Heavy. Calculated.
My skin prickled.
I looked over my shoulder and met eyes with the last person I wanted to see on day one.
Killian Vale.
He was tall, sharp-jawed, dressed in black, and walking like he owned every inch of air in the room. His hair was dark and messy in a controlled kind of way — like he spent thirty minutes making it look effortless.
His eyes?
Green.
But not soft or sweet.
They were the kind of green that said, I see through you. And I'm not impressed.
He didn't smile. Just stared like he was scanning for weakness.
Then he walked past me and dropped into the seat two rows behind.
I turned back to my desk, heart hammering, pretending I wasn't shaking a little.
Killian Vale. My sister's old classmate. The last person seen talking to her before she died.
His name was circled in Lila's journal three times.
And now he was sitting behind me.
"Welcome," came a bored voice from the front of the room.
I looked up to see a professor with wild white hair and a jacket that looked like it had been borrowed from the Victorian era.
"Professor Halvers," he said. "Lit Theory. If you're not a fan of tragic endings, I suggest transferring out now."
Someone in the back chuckled.
Killian didn't.
Neither did I.
Class passed in a blur of notes, forced introductions, and fake laughter.
When it ended, I stayed seated until the room emptied.
Killian brushed past me without a word, his leather bag slung low, shoulders broad, eyes focused straight ahead.
Like I didn't exist.
Good.
Let him think that.
Because I needed time. Time to figure him out. To figure out who he was back then. And who he is now.
Only… that night, I found a note in my dorm.
Folded paper. No name. No handwriting.
Just one line:
"Lila wasn't the only secret Blackmere buried."
I stared at it long after lights out, lying on a stiff twin bed in a room that didn't feel like mine, wondering how anyone even knew I was here.
Wondering who else was watching me.
[Creator's Note – Smith_10
]
Whew. First day, and Zara's already got a target on her back 👀
Mysterious notes? Check. Green-eyed storm boy? Double check. Oh, and we're just getting started.
What do you think Killian's hiding? And who do you think left the note?
Drop a comment, besties. I wanna know your theories 🖤
Next chapter's gonna bring heat — and maybe a little emotional whiplash 😏
See you in Chapter Two…
xoxo
–Smith_10