THE GIRL IN VILLA THIRTEEN

CHAPTER ONE: THE GIRL IN VILLA THIRTEEN My name is Ava Blackwood, and if there was one single, undisputed truth everyone at Ravenshire Academy knew before they even unpacked their designer trunks, it was this: Never trust a Blackwood. The funny thing was, I entirely agreed. I stood before the towering iron gates of the academy, my knuckles white as I gripped the handle of my battered suitcase. A miserable, freezing rain drizzled from the bruised morning sky, but it didn't dare touch the school grounds. A shimmering, invisible barrier dome deflected the storm, leaving the academy looking like a kingdom stolen straight out of a dark fairytale. Crystal spires pierced the low-hanging clouds, golden banners fluttered lazily against pristine white marble walls, and the raw, ancient magic pulsing through the air was so thick it made the hairs on my arms stand straight up. This wasn’t just an elite boarding school. It was a gilded cage where the children of the most powerful, dangerous magical dynasties in the world came to rule over one another before they were old enough to inherit their actual thrones. And somehow, by some bizarre glitch in the universe—or a very calculated move on the chessboard—I had been invited. A loud, resonant horn echoed across the courtyard, signaling the arrival of the morning carriages. Suddenly, the gates swarmed with a sea of students. It was an overwhelming display of sickening, unadulterated wealth. I watched girls glide past in tailored charcoal uniforms, their fingers dripping with enchanted heirloom jewelry that glowed with protective wards. Boys laughed in corners, flanked by hulking bodyguards who waited outside sleek, luxury obsidian carriages. The sheer arrogance of the place was almost suffocating. Naturally, I loved it. "Move," a voice snapped. Before I could even turn my head, a hard shoulder slammed into mine, sending me stumbling a step backward onto the wet pavement. My suitcase wobbled, but I caught my balance, my eyes narrowing instantly. The culprit didn't even bother to glance back or offer a half-hearted apology. He simply kept walking, casually adjusting the cuff of his crisp black blazer. He was tall, with a mess of dark, unruly hair that fell perfectly over a ridiculously sharp jawline. He was the kind of boy who was annoyingly attractive, but even more annoyingly aware of it. But it was the silver badge gleaming on his lapel that caught my attention. Ralph Ashford. Of course it was. Every kingdom had a prince, and Ravenshire had Ralph. He was the sole heir to the Ashford Empire, the richest and most ruthless magical dynasty alive. As if feeling the weight of my glare, Ralph abruptly paused. He turned his head slowly, his piercing gray eyes scanning the crowd until they locked directly onto me. For a fraction of a second, his arrogant facade cracked. His eyes narrowed in a chaotic mix of recognition and utter confusion. Then, something much darker flickered across his face. Fear. It vanished so quickly I wondered if the gray morning light was just playing tricks on my mind. His jaw tightened, and he turned on his heel, disappearing into the crowd of adoring sycophants. I stood frozen, my heart doing a strange little flutter. Weird. I had never met an Ashford in my life. So why on earth had the golden boy of Ravenshire looked at me like he’d just seen a ghost? The student villas sat on the rolling hills behind the main academy grounds, separated by high hedges and security wards. Most students shared luxury residences with three or four roommates from their own social standing. Mine, however, was a blatant anomaly. Villa Thirteen. It was a massive, sprawling mansion built of dark, gothic stone, completely isolated behind a dense thicket of weeping silver trees. There were no neighboring villas. No signs of life. Just an eerie, heavy silence that hung over the grounds. The elderly caretaker who escorted me down the cobblestone path hadn't stopped fidgeting with her collar the entire walk. She practically practically vibrated with anxiety. "Is there a specific reason nobody else lives within a mile of me?" I asked, keeping my tone light, though my internal alarms were starting to blare. The old woman flinched, nearly dropping the massive brass ring of keys in her hand. "No," she squeaked, her eyes darting everywhere except my face. A lie. A massive, glittering lie. She unlocked the heavy oak front door, pushed it open, and practically sprinted back down the path before I could even open my mouth to ask a follow-up question. "Not suspicious at all," I muttered to myself, dragging my suitcase over the threshold. Despite the ominous exterior, the inside of the villa was breathtaking. Towering crystal chandeliers dripped from vaulted ceilings, grand winding staircases rose into the shadows, and plush velvet furniture sat before massive marble fireplaces. Ancient, shadowed oil paintings lined the walls, depicting historical figures whose eyes seemed to track my movements. The place looked less like student housing and more like a forgotten royal palace. Then, as I walked deeper into the grand hall, the breath caught in my throat. Every single mirror in the villa had been covered. Thick, heavy black cloths were draped over every reflective surface, pinned securely to the frames so not an inch of glass was exposed. A cold chill crawled slowly down my spine. "Okay," I whispered into the empty house, my voice echoing off the marble floors. "That is officially a one-way ticket to Creepville." Thud. Upstairs, something heavy crashed against the floorboards. I froze, my muscles locking tight. The villa was supposed to be completely empty. I was the only student assigned here. Slowly, carefully, I set my suitcase down. I didn't have my family's signature grimoire, and my own magic was still a volatile, unpredictable thing, but I refused to be a victim in my own home. I crept up the grand staircase, my boots making no sound on the velvet runner. The sound came again—a soft, deliberate scraping noise, followed by an oppressive silence. My heart hammered violently against my ribs as I reached the second-floor landing. Nothing. The long hallway stretched out before me, lined with closed doors and draped mirrors. Everything was still. Then, a breathy whisper brushed against the shell of my ear. "Ava..." I spun around so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet. My hands flew up, sparks of purple defensive magic crackling faintly at my fingertips. Nobody. The hallway was completely empty. Yet I knew what I’d heard. It wasn't the wind, and it wasn't my imagination. Someone had whispered my name. Someone who shouldn't have even known I existed. Needless to say, I didn't sleep that night. A vicious thunderstorm had rolled in past the magical barrier, rattling the leaded glass windows of my bedroom. Pale moonlight spilled across the floor, casting distorted shadows through the silver trees outside. I checked the glowing enchanted clock on my nightstand. 2:13 AM. Then, beneath the roaring thunder, I heard them. Footsteps. Slow, measured, and agonizingly deliberate. They were coming from the floor directly below me. I sat bolt upright in bed, the sheets pooling around my waist. The villa had no roommates. No caretaker. No late-night visitors were permitted past the academy gates. Yet the heavy thud of boots on marble continued. One. Two. Three. Someone was casually strolling through my house. Throwing off the covers, I scanned the dark room for a weapon. My eyes landed on a heavy, solid brass desk lamp. Not exactly a legendary weapon of magical destruction, but desperation has terribly low standards. Gripping the brass base, I crept out of my room and down the stairs. The footsteps abruptly stopped. The grand hall downstairs was bathed in deep shadows, lit only by the occasional flash of lightning from the high windows. I held my breath, lowering myself into a defensive crouch. FLASH. A brilliant stroke of lightning illuminated the hall. For a split second, a silhouette was cast against the wall. A tall, male figure was standing directly in front of one of the covered mirrors, his hand raised toward the black cloth. Then, darkness swallowed the room again. "Who's there?" I demanded, my voice laced with a sass I didn't entirely feel. No response. Lunging forward, I reached out and violently yanked the heavy black cloth off the massive mirror. The glass didn't reflect the room. It didn't even reflect my face. Instead, the silver surface rippled like liquid before thick, blood-red letters began to bleed out from the center of the glass, pooling into jagged words. RUN BEFORE HE FINDS YOU. My breathing stuttered in my chest. I stared at the ominous warning, but before I could even process it, the glass rippled again, and a second sentence slowly formed beneath the first. HE ALREADY KNOWS YOU'RE HERE. "You really should have stayed away from this academy, Ava." A low, smooth, and dangerously cold voice echoed from the shadows of the doorway behind me. I spun around, raising the brass lamp like a club. Standing in the threshold of the front door, drenched in rain with his silver academy badge gleaming in the dark, was Ralph Ashford. His gray eyes burned with a terrifying intensity, and judging by the deadly, tight expression on his face... He wasn't warning me about some hidden monster in the school. He was warning me about himself.