Ridgeway Academy: The Girl Who Entered As A Boy

Chapter 2: Brought Home Dead

Raven’s POV

They didn’t even knock properly. Just a slow, controlled knock like they were delivering something instead of news that would ruin my life.

I opened the door myself.

A white cloth covering something I didn't understand was the first thing I saw.

My brain hadn’t accepted it yet.

Behind the cloth were men I didn’t know. Their faces were blank, and their eyes avoided mine.

Still, one of them stepped forward.

“Raven Virell?”

I didn’t answer. My eyes stayed on the shape behind them.

I heard him. I just didn’t want to respond and make it real.

“Yes,” I said finally.

He nodded once, as if I had confirmed a delivery.

“We are here on behalf of Ridgeway Academy and the governing clan council.”

That name Ridgeway tightened something inside me, but I didn’t show it.

Instead, I asked the only question that mattered.

“Where is my brother?”

There was silence, then hesitation and control.

Then the cloth shifted slightly as they adjusted their grip.

My heart didn’t break, it just slowed. One of them spoke again, carefully chosen words.

“He has been returned to his family.”

Returned? Not brought or sent? Like something that has been borrowed.

My fingers curled at my sides.

“Let me see him.”

There was a pause, long enough for me to know there was a reason they didn’t want me to say that. But I said it again.

“I said let me see him.”

This time, the man in front exhaled.

“Identification protocol must be followed.”

In translation, they meant politics first, human later.

I stepped aside because if I didn’t see it with my own eyes, my brain would keep pretending.

The cloth lifted slowly and there my brother was. Or what was left of him.

My throat tightened immediately, but no sound came out. Just heavy silence that pressed into my ribs.

His face was pale in a way that didn’t look like sleep, and there were no visible injuries at first glance.

That was the first thing that felt wrong.

My eyes carefully scanned him again. My wolf didn’t speak and that scared me more than anything.

One of the men cleared his throat.

“The academy expresses condolences. The cause of death is under internal review.”

I looked at him.

“Internal review,” I repeated.

“Yes.”

That was all he gave me. No explanation. No accident report. No truth. Just structure and control.

My gaze flicked back to my brother. Nothing about this felt like him.

I swallowed.

“When did it happen?”

A longer pause this time.

“We cannot disclose operational details.”

That meant they were hiding the exact moment. Which meant it mattered.

I stepped closer and leaned down slightly. My fingers hovered near his hand. They were cold.

My breath tightened and my wolf finally stirred.

“…Be at alert.”

I straightened slowly and knew something was wrong. All these didn’t fit the story they were giving me.

One of the men stepped back.

“We will proceed with transport arrangements.”

I didn’t stop them, because stopping them wouldn’t change anything now.

But I memorized everything down to their insignias and the way they avoided my eyes.

Then they left just like that.

The door closed and the house became too quiet. That was when the pressure came.

I felt my chest was holding something too large and refusing to release it.

I stood still there for a long time, then I moved inside.

The burial was scheduled quickly.

Wolves were never buried like humans. There were layers of rituals and traditions that meant something.

But Ridgeway controlled everything tied to him.

So they controlled even this.

The ceremony took place at the edge of the clan grounds where the stone altar stood surrounded by cold air and silent watchers.

Important people were there, clan members, academy representatives and faces I didn’t care about.

I stood in the back and listened as they spoke words I didn’t understand.

They spoke about honor, duty and loss. I watched everything else.

The way the academy officials stood slightly apart and the way silence wasn’t grief but agreement.

Something had happened.

My gaze drifted to the perfect Ridgeway crest symbol carved into the stone.

When the final ritual was performed, they released the energy into the wind.

I felt nothing, no peace or closure. Just more questions forming where grief was supposed to be.

When it ended, people began to leave slowly as if they were afraid of staying too long.

I didn’t move immediately and waited until most of them were gone.

Then I turned away.

I didn’t feel anything on the way home, that was the problem.

The walk back felt longer than it should have and the house was empty when I got back.

I went straight to my room and closed the door.

Then I stood in front of the mirror and looked at myself for a long time.

Waiting was no longer an option. Then I picked up the scissors.

Without hesitation, I cut my hair.

The girl who waited, trusted systems and believed things just happened, was gone.

When I was done, I didn’t look like myself.

I dropped the scissors and my reflection stared differently back.

I met my reflection’s eyes, and I understood something very clearly. This wasn’t grief, this was direction.

I turned away from the mirror and packed nothing. I only needed answers.

At the door, I paused once. Then I said it out loud:

“If they took him… I’m walking into their world myself.”