The Crescent Moon.

First Day Of School.

~Aria~

The morning light spilled through the thin curtains in soft amber waves, brushing against the faded walls of my room. The air was cool, almost cold, and it smelled faintly of old books. I blinked awake slowly, eyes adjusting to the unfamiliar ceiling. For a few moments, I forgot where I was. The gentle hum of birds outside, the rustling wind against the ivy-covered walls—it wasn’t the city. It wasn’t home.

It was Black Hallow.

Lenore’s cottage creaked as it settled, the sound almost comforting. I sat up, wrapping my arms around myself, the ache in my chest returning like a bruise pressed too hard. Today was the day. My first day at Black Hallow High.

The thought alone made my stomach twist.

Dragging myself out of bed, I padded to the bathroom. The tile floor was freezing, and I winced as my bare feet met it. I turned on the shower, letting the steam fog the mirror as I undressed. The water was warm, thankfully. As it cascaded over my skin, memories from my old life swirled in—laughter with Mom over burnt pancakes, Dad’s off-key singing in the car, the scent of cinnamon candles during winter.

They were gone.

The ache bloomed again, sharp and quiet.

I didn’t cry. Not anymore. My tears felt like a private thing now, like an offering I couldn’t afford to waste.

By the time I stepped out, the air had cooled, and the mirror was fogged. I wiped it with my hand, catching my reflection—damp hair clinging to my cheeks, eyes darker than they used to be, shoulders slightly hunched as if I carried something invisible.

Back in my room, I slipped into the outfit Lenore helped me pick the night before: black jeans, a deep green sweater, and my worn boots. She’d called it “witchy chic” with a wink. I wasn’t trying to make an impression, but if I had to walk into a room full of strangers, I at least wanted to feel like myself.

Downstairs, the smell of scrambled eggs and beacon hit me. Lenore stood at the stove, humming softly, two mugs set out and toast already browned on a plate.

“Morning, love,” she said with a smile. “Ready for the big day?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

She handed me a mug. “Peppermint and chamomile. Good for the nerves.”

I took it gratefully, wrapping both hands around the warmth.

Breakfast was quiet. She didn’t ask too many questions, and I didn’t offer much. When it was time, she grabbed her bag and car keys. “Let’s get you to Black Hallow.”

“Be gentle with her,” she joked as I struggled with the handle. “She’s old but loyal.”

The engine coughed and spluttered before it roared to life, shaking like a beast waking from a long nap.

The ride through town was slow, the truck rumbling along the narrow road. Black Hallow looked different in the morning. Quaint, even. Fog lifted slowly off the fields. The streets were lined with crooked lampposts, brick houses, and ivy-covered fences. We passed the old church with its tilted steeple, the fishing dock stretching into the gray-green lake, and the old library that leaned slightly to one side like it was listening.

And then, the school.

Black Hallow High.

It looked like something out of a gothic novel different from the other day I saw it. The iron gate creaked as Lenore pulled in. Kids were scattered across the lawn, huddled in groups, laughter rising into the crisp air.

“You’ll be okay,” Lenore said as she parked. “Give it time.”

I nodded, swallowing my nerves. “Thanks.”

“Text me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

I stepped out, slinging my bag over my shoulder. The cold nipped at my cheeks, and I felt every eye on me. Whether real or imagined, I couldn’t be sure. But I walked forward.

Inside, the halls smelled of floor wax and old paper. Lockers lined the walls, and faded posters for clubs and dances fluttered as students brushed past. I found the office easily enough. The woman behind the desk wore glasses on a chain and looked like she’d been working here since the first brick was laid.

“New student?” she asked.

I nodded. “Aria Blake.”

She checked her clipboard. “Ah, yes. Principal Wren’s expecting you. Down the hall, second door on the left.”

The name didn’t fit the image in my head. I imagined a stiff man in a gray suit. But when I knocked on the door and heard a warm “Come in,” I was surprised.

Principal Wren was a woman in her forties with short auburn hair and a soft voice. Her office was filled with books and plants, and a small dog dozed in the corner.

“Aria,” she greeted me. “Welcome to Black Hallow. I’m sorry it’s under such hard circumstances.”

“Thank you,” I said softly.

She handed me a folder. “Your schedule, a map of the school, and a list of extracurriculars in case you want to get involved. And don’t worry—we all know high school isn’t easy, especially when you’re the new face.”

I nodded, clutching the folder.

“If you need anything, my door’s always open.”

The bell rang as I left her office, echoing down the corridor like a summons.

First period: English.

I followed the map, my boots clicking on the polished floor. When I stepped into the classroom, it was like every movie nightmare rolled into one. Heads turned. Conversations paused. The teacher looked up from her desk.

“You must be Aria. Come in.”

He pointed to an empty desk near the back. I slid into the seat, keeping my eyes low. The class resumed, the teacher launching into some lecture on algebra. I heard bits and piece.

I tried not to stare at the students around me, but some of them stared at me. A red-haired girl with a pierced brow watched me like she was waiting for me to trip. A boy with shaggy dark hair a few rows up kept glancing back when he thought I wasn’t looking. There was something in his eyes—curiosity, maybe. Or something else.

By lunch, I’d already memorized the map. The cafeteria was noisy, the tables full of groups that clearly knew each other well. I wandered to the edge, trying to find a spot that didn’t feel too exposed.

“Hi.”

Just one word, soft and casual, but it broke through the noise in my head like a hand pulling me out of water.

I turned.

The girl next to me had soft brown skin, long black curls pulled into a messy braid, and a pair of dark eyes that actually looked kind. She leaned slightly toward me, like she didn’t want to scare me off.

“I’m Marla,” she said.

I blinked, trying to catch up. “Oh. I’m—uh—Aria.”

Her smile widened a little. “I figured. You’re the new girl.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “That obvious, huh?”

She tilted her head and whispered, “You didn’t even sit for thirty seconds before Brian tried to text half the school about you.”

My eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Don’t worry,” she said, her grin crooked. “He’s harmless. Just nosey.”

I glanced at her again, properly this time. There was something easy about her presence—like she didn’t expect anything from me. Like she wasn’t trying to put me in a box. That alone made my shoulders drop a little.

She nudged her chin toward the teacher at the board. “That’s Mr. Hannis. He’s fine if you stay on his good side. But don’t ask him to explain algebra twice—he’ll pretend your confusion is a personal attack.”

I almost laughed, which surprised me.

Maybe it showed, because Marla grinned.

“Thanks,” I whispered. “For… being nice.”

Her expression softened. “You looked like you needed it.”

I gave Marla a small, grateful smile before turning my gaze back to the front of the class. Mr. Hannis was scribbling some formula across the board in thick chalk, something about polynomials. I wasn’t following. My mind was still catching up to the fact that someone had actually spoken to me without that awkward mix of pity and curiosity I’d been getting since the accident.

Then I felt it again.

That prickle at the base of my neck.

The feeling of being watched.

I shifted in my seat, casually, pretending to look out the window again—but instead, my eyes slid to the right. To the far end of the classroom.

That’s when I saw him.

A boy, maybe seventeen, leaned back slightly in his chair, one arm draped across the desk like he hadn’t a care in the world. He had dark hair, thick and slightly unruly, like the wind didn’t dare touch it without asking. His eyes—God, his eyes—were a shade I couldn’t place. Somewhere between silver and stormcloud. Too pale to be warm. Too sharp to ignore.

And they were looking right at me.

Not in a cruel way. Not mocking.

Just watching.

Like I was a question he’d been waiting to ask.

I looked away quickly, heat blooming in my cheeks. My pulse thundered in my ears.

Marla must have noticed because she leaned in and whispered, “Careful. That’s Elia Fenwood.”

“Fenwood?” I repeated under my breath.

“Yeah,” she said. “He’s… complicated.”

I gave her a look.

Marla shrugged. “His family’s lived here forever. Own half the land past the river. They keep to themselves mostly. Elia’s not like the other guys at school. He’s... different.”

I dared another glance.

Elia hadn’t looked away.

His chin tilted slightly, like he’d caught me staring and didn’t mind. Like he wanted me to keep going.

There was something strange about him. Something still, like he didn’t quite belong in the room with the rest of us. The air felt different around him—like the pressure shifted when he moved.

“Different how?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

Marla hesitated. “You’ll see. Everyone does, eventually.”

That didn’t exactly help my nerves.

Before I could ask more, the bell rang, sharp and sudden. Students stood, chairs scraping against the floor, voices rising in the usual end-of-class chaos. I gathered my notebook quickly, stuffing it back into my bag with fingers that trembled more than I liked.

Marla was already at her feet. “You heading to Bio next?”

I nodded.

“Same. I’ll walk with you.”

As we made our way to the door, I chanced one more look back.

Elia was still sitting.

Still watching.

And this time, when our eyes met—he smiled.

Not a wide grin. Not the cocky kind boys give when they think they’re charming.

No. It was slow. Barely there. But it landed in my chest like thunder rolling far off in the distance.

Like a warning.

Or a promise.