The Bloodline Heir

Chapter One The first thing Seraphina Vale noticed about Blackwood Academy was that it looked nothing like the photographs. The brochures showed an impressive old building surrounded by green lawns and neatly trimmed hedges. They didn’t mention the cracked stone steps, the dead leaves gathered beneath the windows, or the unsettling silence that seemed to hang over the grounds. Seraphina stepped out of the car and stared at the building. Three years. That was how long her aunt had spent insisting Blackwood was the safest place for her. Three years of arguments, unanswered questions, and constant reminders that she couldn’t keep living as if nothing had happened to her family. Now she was here, and she already wanted to leave. “You’re blocking the entrance.” Seraphina turned. A boy stood a few feet behind her, holding his phone in one hand. He was tall, with dark hair falling carelessly across his forehead and a face that probably made people forgive him for being rude. Unfortunately for him, Seraphina wasn’t one of those people. “There’s an entire entrance,” she said. “Try using it.” His gaze dropped to the suitcase beside her. “New student?” “No. I always carry my entire wardrobe around for fun.” He studied her for a moment before a small smile appeared on his face. “You’re going to hate it here.” “Already do.” “Good. You’ll fit right in.” He walked past her and disappeared through the entrance. Seraphina watched him go. Wonderful. She hadn’t even made it inside, and she’d already met someone she couldn’t stand. She grabbed her suitcase and followed him. The entrance hall was crowded with students dressed in dark uniforms. Some were laughing near the noticeboards, while others compared schedules or complained about their dormitory assignments. At first glance, Blackwood looked like any expensive private boarding school. That was what made Seraphina uncomfortable. She had expected something different. A warning, perhaps. Something that would explain why her aunt had looked so frightened when she handed over the admission papers. Instead, a woman in a navy suit approached her with a clipboard. “Seraphina Vale?” “Yes.” “I’m Mrs. Hargreaves, the deputy head. Welcome to Blackwood Academy.” Her smile was polite, but her gaze lingered on Seraphina’s face a little too long. “Your aunt has informed us of your circumstances. I trust you’ve read the student handbook.” “I read it twice.” “Then you’ll understand why certain areas of the school are restricted.” “Such as?” “The old east wing, for one.” Seraphina glanced down a corridor ending at a pair of heavy wooden doors. “Why?” Mrs. Hargreaves closed her folder. “Because it’s closed.” It wasn’t an answer. It was barely an attempt at one. Before Seraphina could ask anything else, the deputy head handed her a timetable and directed her toward the dormitories. She was halfway up the stairs when someone called her name. “Vale.” She turned. The dark-haired boy from outside stood by the landing, his phone tucked into his pocket. “You’re in my class,” he said. “Congratulations.” “Adrian,” he replied, apparently deciding to introduce himself despite her obvious lack of interest. “Adrian Ashford.” Seraphina continued up the stairs. “Was I supposed to be impressed?” “No. But you should know something before your first lesson.” She stopped. Adrian’s expression had changed. The amusement was gone. “People here will ask about your family. Don’t answer them.” Seraphina felt a familiar tension settle in her chest. “What do you know about my family?” For a moment, he said nothing. Then the bell rang, and the corridor filled with students. Adrian stepped aside to let them pass. “Nothing,” he said. But as Seraphina walked away, she heard him add quietly, almost to himself: “That’s the problem.” She wanted to turn around and demand an explanation, but the crowd carried her toward the dormitories. For the rest of the afternoon, she tried to convince herself that Adrian Ashford was simply another arrogant boy who enjoyed making new students uncomfortable. It was a reasonable explanation. It was also the last reasonable thing she would believe about Blackwood Academy. That evening, Seraphina unpacked her clothes while her roommate, a girl named Amara Night, sat cross-legged on the opposite bed. “So,” Amara said, examining her with open curiosity, “which family are you from?” Seraphina folded a sweater. “Vale.” Amara’s expression shifted. It was brief, but Seraphina caught it. “What?” “Nothing.” “That didn’t look like nothing.” Amara hesitated, then lowered her voice. “I thought the Vale family was gone.” Seraphina’s fingers tightened around the sweater. “What does that mean?” Before Amara could answer, someone knocked on the door. A staff member stood outside, holding a sealed envelope. “Miss Vale? The headmistress would like to see you first thing tomorrow morning.” Seraphina accepted the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of paper. Report to the headmistress’s office at eight. Come alone. No explanation. No signature. She looked up at the staff member, but the woman was already walking away. Amara rose from the bed. “Whatever you do,” she said quietly, “don’t let them convince you that you’re the problem.” Seraphina stared at her. “Who are you talking about?” Amara glanced toward the corridor. “Everyone.” Later that night, Seraphina woke to the sound of something tapping against the window. She sat up. The room was dark, and Amara was asleep in the other bed. Another tap sounded. Seraphina crossed the room and pulled the curtain aside. Nothing stood outside. Only the courtyard, the trees, and the pale reflection of the moon on the glass. She was about to return to bed when she noticed something strange in the mirror across the room. Writing was slowly appearing on its surface. Silver letters formed one word at a time. YOUR FAMILY WAS NOT THE LAST TO DIE. Seraphina stopped breathing. A second line appeared beneath the first. ONE OF THEM IS STILL HERE. She backed away from the mirror. Then she heard a voice behind her. “You’re not supposed to see that.” Seraphina spun around. Adrian Ashford stood in the open doorway. His face had lost every trace of its usual confidence. She looked from him to the mirror. Then back at him. “Start talking,” she said. Adrian glanced at the message. For the first time since she’d met him, he looked genuinely afraid. “Seraphina,” he said, closing the door behind him, “whatever happens tomorrow, don’t let the headmistress see those words.” “Why?” He met her eyes. “Because if she knows the message appeared for you, she’ll know the last Vale has awakened.”