Chapter 1 The Scholarship
1112 Words
Avane Monroe had always been focused—books, grades, and the dream of escaping her small town. That dream was finally coming true.
She glanced at herself in the mirror, dressed in thick leggings, rain boots, a knit sweater, and a trench coat. With a sigh, she muttered, “Hopefully Vermont won’t have miserable weather like this place.”
That was where she would spend the next four years, studying science at one of the most prestigious universities she could have ever hoped to attend.
The only person she could call a friend, Lila, walked into the room looking just as gloomy as the nonstop rain outside.
“Lila, this is really it. I’m really leaving!” Ava said, trying to smile through her nerves.
“Yeah, it’s a real dream finally coming through for you. You deserve it,” Lila replied with a soft smile.
“Thank you—for coming to say goodbye. It means a lot.”
“It’s the least I could do,” Lila said, shrugging. “Besides, I won’t be seeing you for a while. I don’t have any college plans lined up yet. So, I’m going to travel for a bit—see where life takes me.”
It seemed like they were both stepping into the unknown, each following their own kind of freedom.
“My, my... your uncle doesn’t sound too thrilled about all this,” Lila added. “He’s been slamming doors since I got here—it’s all I’ve heard.”
Ava gave a wry smile. “I think he’s happy to be rid of me. At least until I come back—which I don’t plan to, if everything works out.”
“When has it not worked out for you?” Lila teased. They both laughed, the kind of laughter only true friends shared—light, knowing, and slightly rebellious.
If Ava believed in the supernatural, she might have called Lila a witch—and maybe herself one too. There was something almost magical about the way they bent the world to their will. Only Lila could convince her strict parents to let her travel instead of going to college.
Before her uncle could change his mind about giving her a ride, Ava hurried to bring her luggage to the car. She locked the front door behind her instinctively—a small act of finality.
She jumped into the passenger seat, waving at Lila through the rain-streaked window. Her friend looked more solemn now, as though her energy had gone with Ava’s departure.
The drive to the airport was an hour long and painfully silent. Ava didn’t mind. It gave her time to think.
She was really leaving. Leaving behind the small town. The narrow streets. The gossip. The pitying eyes and whispering mouths that claimed to know more about her than she did herself. Leaving her overbearing guardian, who never let her forget how much of a burden she was. Who constantly reminded her how expensive it was to send her to a private high school.
When she received the scholarship, it had felt like the clouds parted just for her. A light finally flickered at the end of a very long, dark tunnel. She had her headmaster to thank for that. He’d always seen something in her—potential maybe. Or perhaps just someone worth saving.
With two suitcases, a duffel bag filled with some of her late mother’s clothes, and the unshakable resolve only hardship could forge, Ava stepped into the next chapter of her life.
Her uncle dropped her off at the airport without so much as a decent goodbye. He looked eager—too eager—to get rid of her. Couldn't he at least pretend to care? Not that she expected anything different. Still, she waved politely as he sped off.
It was one of those days where being an orphan almost felt like a blessing. Not because she didn’t miss her parents—she did, every single day—but because losing everything had made her stronger. Made her fight harder.
She had clawed her way to this moment. Straight A’s, endless hours of studying, and a determination to never settle. She didn’t have the luxury of falling apart.
Blackwood University. A name that seemed to echo with mystery. According to their glossy brochures, they had students from around the world. They had already made her feel welcome—especially when she received the hand-written admission letter. The penmanship had been flawless, like calligraphy.
Daxus Vale. Signed in bold.
She figured he must be a head professor or someone important. Whoever he was, he’d helped change her life.
On the plane, she leaned against the window and watched the clouds as the world fell away beneath her. The flight attendants served her a small meal, and before she knew it, she’d drifted off.
She only woke when the flight touched down in Vermont. The sun was setting, casting a soft golden glow over the quiet airport. She ditched her coat—surprisingly, the weather wasn’t as cold as she expected.
Her next task: find the university.
She asked around, trying to get directions to Blackwood University, but no one seemed to know it. After several frustrating conversations, she called her high school headmaster in a panic.
He laughed gently at her exasperation. “Stay where you are, Ava. I’ll contact the university. Someone will come for you.”
A few minutes later, he sent a text confirming that a car was on the way.
She crossed the street and found a quiet diner across from the terminal. With her stomach growling, she ordered a hot bowl of rice soup and let the warmth soak into her bones. While she ate, she struck up a conversation with a middle-aged man sitting nearby.
“Blackwood University?” he echoed. “Yeah, I’ve heard of it. Real private place. Word is, they’ve got some top-tier research facilities—real hush-hush stuff.”
Before she could ask more, her phone rang. The car had arrived.
She thanked the man, grabbed her bags, and got into the waiting vehicle.
The ride was long. Over two hours of winding roads and dense forest. Just when Ava began to worry they were lost, the car slowed in front of a massive, wrought-iron gate.
Blackwood University.
It was beyond enormous. Gothic architecture towered above her, stone walls etched with vines and gargoyle statues. Her mouth fell open.
The cabbie got out, helped her unload, and escorted her to the administrative office. Then, without a word, he drove away.
Ava stood at the threshold, her heart pounding.
She had arrived.
- Writer
