FROST BOUND HEARTS

Isla's POV No one came with Isla Everhart to Silvercrest Academy. No one hugged her goodbye. No one reminded her to eat properly or text when she arrived. While other first-years lingered with their families, promising to visit or waving one last time, Isla adjusted the straps of her backpack, gripped her suitcases, and walked toward the academy alone. She told herself it was easier that way. The first thing Isla learned about Silvercrest Academy was that pictures were liars. The brochures showed elegant towers covered in snow, peaceful gardens, and smiling students wandering to class. They forgot to mention the flying carriage that nearly hit her in the face. A rush of wind swept past. Isla yelped and jumped aside as a carriage pulled by two silver-winged horses sped past her head. A girl leaned out of the window and waved. "Sorry!" Then the carriage disappeared into the clouds. Isla stared after it, expecting someone else to react. Nobody did. A boy nearby floated three textbooks beside him while eating a muffin. Two girls laughed as tiny sparks danced between their fingertips. A professor walked across the courtyard without giving the flying carriage so much as a glance. Right. This was a magical academy. She let out a quiet breath and finally looked around. Silvercrest stretched before her like something from a storybook. Snow rested on towering rooftops, enchanted lanterns floated above the stone paths, and frost flowers shimmered beneath the winter sun. Magic filled the air as naturally as laughter. It was beautiful. Beautiful enough to make her forget herself for a moment. That frightened her more than anything. She wasn't here to make friends or impress anyone with her magic. She was here to finish school, keep her head down, and leave without anyone remembering her name. A cold breeze brushed her cheeks. Before she could stop it, frost gathered at her fingertips. Her heart skipped. She shoved her hands into her coat pockets and kept walking, praying no one had noticed. She couldn't afford mistakes. Not with a name like Everhart. For years, people had looked at that name before they looked at her. They remembered the Winterfall Disaster. They remembered the family everyone blamed. They never cared enough to learn the truth. Isla swallowed the familiar lump in her throat. Silvercrest was supposed to be a new beginning. No one here knew who she was and she intended to keep it that way. Twenty minutes later, she was hopelessly lost. The tiny campus map in her hands seemed determined to confuse her. Every building looked the same, and she was fairly certain she had walked past the same marble statue three times. "I hate you," she muttered to the map. "Are you lost?" Isla looked up so quickly she nearly dropped it. A girl with curly brown hair and an impossibly bright smile stood beside her. "No." The girl glanced at the map. "You know it's upside down, right?" Heat rushed to Isla's face. She folded it immediately. "I knew that." The girl laughed. "No, you didn't." "I did." "You were arguing with it." "It started it." The girl grinned. "I'm Poppy Sinclair." She held out her hand. Isla hesitated before shaking it. "Isla." "I know. We're roommates." Of course they were. Poppy picked up one of Isla's suitcases before she could protest. "You walk really slowly." "You walk too fast." "You'll get used to me." "I sincerely hope not." Poppy only laughed. For reasons Isla couldn't explain, she found herself smiling too. Poppy talked the entire walk to the dormitory. She pointed out the library, the dining hall, and a clock tower that chimed every hour whether anyone wanted it to or not. Isla barely had to speak. Every time she thought the conversation had finally ended, Poppy found something new to say. By the time they reached their room, Isla wasn't sure whether she was amused or exhausted. Poppy pushed the door open excitedly. "Home!" Isla stepped inside and stopped. The room was warm despite the winter outside. Sunlight poured through the tall windows, enchanted lanterns floated near the ceiling, and neat pots of frost flowers rested on the windowsill. It felt welcoming in a way she hadn't expected. "If I'm going to be stuck here for four years," she said quietly, "at least it's a nice room." "I knew you'd like it." "You've known me for ten minutes." "I have excellent instincts." Isla smiled, shaking her head. They unpacked together. Well... Poppy unpacked while talking, and Isla unpacked while listening. She didn't have much to unpack anyway. A few sweaters, some books, a notebook and a framed photograph. Her fingers lingered on the frame. She looked at the smiling faces for only a moment before placing it face down in the drawer. Looking at it for too long always left her missing people she could never have back. The last thing she took from her suitcase was a small silver pendant. Its snowflake crest gleamed in the afternoon light. The Everhart crest. Once, she'd worn it proudly. Now she glanced toward Poppy before quietly slipping it beneath a stack of folded clothes at the back of the drawer. Some things were safer hidden. As she closed the drawer, something on the windowsill caught her eye. Frost flowers. She crossed the room almost without thinking. Their white petals shimmered beneath a thin layer of ice, just like the ones that used to bloom outside her childhood home. For a minute, she wasn't standing in Silvercrest anymore. She was seven years old, running through fresh snow while her mother's laughter echoed across the gardens. Frost flowers bloomed wherever her tiny boots landed, and everything about the world had felt safe. The memory disappeared as quickly as it came and the room was quiet again. Home had never felt farther away. "You okay?" Poppy's voice pulled her back. Isla blinked and forced a small smile. "I'm fine." Poppy studied her for a second, as though she knew there was more to the answer, but she simply nodded. Then the familiar sparkle returned to her eyes. "So..." Isla immediately recognized that look. "What?" "What do you think about hockey players?" Isla frowned. "What do hockey players have to do with anything?" "Everything." Poppy flopped down on her bed, looking delighted that she'd been given the chance to explain. "The Frosthawks are Silvercrest's hockey team. They win almost every season, the whole academy loves them, and their captain is basically a celebrity." "That's... a little dramatic." "It really isn't." Isla laughed softly. "I'll take your word for it." Poppy pointed at her. "You won't have a choice." "Why not?" "Because sooner or later, everyone meets the Frosthawks." "And their captain?" Poppy grinned. "Caspian Blackwood." The name sounded familiar. Even Isla had heard stories about the Blackwoods. Powerful family. Old magic. The kind of people whose names carried weight wherever they went. "So," she said, folding another sweater, "he's probably arrogant." Poppy laughed. "I knew you'd say that." "Am I wrong?" She pretended to think. "...Not completely." "I knew it." "But he's also annoyingly handsome." "I don't care." "That's what everyone says." "I mean it." Poppy smiled. "We'll see.” Later that evening, Poppy finally convinced Isla to leave the dorm. "You've been inside long enough," she said, already pulling on her coat. "You can't spend your first day hiding." "I'm not hiding." Poppy gave her a look. "You've looked out that window at least five times in the last hour." "I was admiring the view." "You were avoiding people." Isla sighed. There wasn't much point arguing when Poppy was right. The cold evening air greeted them the moment they stepped outside. The central courtyard was alive with students laughing around the fountain, chatting on stone benches, and tossing enchanted snowballs that burst into showers of glitter. Music drifted through the winter air, and for the first time since arriving, the academy felt less intimidating and more like a place where people truly belonged. Isla watched them quietly. Everyone seemed so comfortable here, wearing their magic as naturally as their winter coats. No one looked afraid of being seen. She wondered what that felt like. A sudden wave of cheers swept across the courtyard. Students turned toward the academy gates almost at once, conversations fading as people hurried to get a better view. Poppy groaned with a smile. "They're back." "The Frosthawks?" "The one and only." Isla looked around in disbelief as more students gathered near the entrance. "They're just a hockey team." "They're the hockey team." "I still don't understand." "You will." The gates opened. A group of students wearing navy and silver varsity jackets walked through, laughing among themselves as though they hadn't noticed the crowd waiting for them. The attention seemed to follow them effortlessly. Some students called out greetings, others waved excitedly, and a few simply watched in admiration. Then Isla saw him. Caspian Blackwood walked near the front of the group, his hockey jacket slung carelessly over one shoulder. There was an easy confidence in the way he carried himself, the kind that came from growing up with everyone expecting great things from you. He wasn't trying to be the center of attention. He simply was. Isla folded her arms. People like him had probably never known what it felt like to hide their name. Beside her, Poppy smiled. "That's Caspian." As though he had sensed someone watching, Caspian looked up. His gaze moved across the crowd without much interest. Then it found Isla. He stopped. Only for a second. The confidence vanished from his face, replaced by unmistakable shock. His eyes stayed on hers as though he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. One of his teammates called his name and the moment broke. Caspian blinked, his expression smoothing over before he continued walking, but the brief look on his face had already placed itself in Isla's mind. She had never met Caspian Blackwood. She was certain of that. So why had he looked at her like he recognized her? The question followed her long after he disappeared into the crowd. And for the first time since arriving at Silvercrest Academy, Isla was afraid her secrets wouldn't stay buried.