ECHOES OF GLENHAVEN

MAEVE

The Highland mist was thick enough to feel like it had substance, curling around the tires and sticking to my jacket as we wound our way up the narrow road. I leaned forward in the backseat, trying to catch a glimpse of the cliffs that Rowan insisted were “legendary” but that I could barely see through the gray haze. Lachlan’s small face was pressed to the window, wide-eyed and pale, muttering under his breath about monsters that might lurk in the forests.

“I can’t believe Granddad is making us come here,” I muttered, pulling my scarf tighter. The Cotswolds had been quaint, predictable, and safe. This… this was entirely different.

Rowan snorted. “You mean you can’t believe he wants you to have an adventure. Honestly, Maeve, you worry too much.”

“Adventure or not, it looks like a castle from a horror story,” I muttered, glancing at the horizon.

And then I saw it.

Glenhaven Academy.

Perched atop a cliff, its stone towers rose jagged and dark through the mist. Gargoyles stared down from the rooftops, and narrow windows glinted like watchful eyes. The building felt alive, ancient, and secretive. The air seemed to hold a low hum, almost like a heartbeat, and my stomach twisted at the thought of what secrets it might contain.

“Maeve,” Rowan called sharply. “Focus. We’re actually going to get lost if you keep staring.”

I forced myself to step out of the car, the gravel crunching under my boots with a noise that sounded far too loud in the stillness. Lachlan tugged at my sleeve.

“Do you think… it’s haunted?” he whispered.

“Probably not,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction. “Probably.”

The main doors swung open before we could reach them, and a few students drifted past, whispering softly to one another. They didn’t stop. They didn’t even glance at us for more than a second. But something in their eyes—quiet, appraising—made me feel both exposed and uncomfortably intrigued.

And then I saw him.

A boy, tall, dark-haired, leaning casually against the railing of the grand staircase. He laughed, his movements effortless, magnetic. I didn’t know his name, but I already disliked him. Or maybe I was fascinated. It was hard to tell.

Lachlan whispered, “He looks scary.”

“Not scary,” I said quietly, more to myself than him. “Intimidating.”

Rowan elbowed me. “Just… try not to make him hate you already.”

I felt my cheeks heat. I had no idea why I cared, but I did.

We were greeted by a woman whose expression was stern, sharp, and watchful. She didn’t introduce herself by name just gestured for us to follow. The hallways twisted and turned like a labyrinth, lined with portraits of people who had probably walked these halls centuries ago. Their eyes seemed to follow us, and I had to keep reminding myself that paintings couldn’t move… couldn’t judge.

The air smelled of damp stone, wood polish, and something else—something old and faintly metallic that made the back of my neck prickle. I noticed carvings in the walls and floor: strange symbols, half-erased by time, their meaning hidden. I crouched to trace one with my fingers.

“Maeve,” Rowan said sharply. “Don’t touch everything.”

“This place has secrets,” I muttered, more to myself than him. “I can feel it.”

Rowan gave me a look that said both don’t push too hard and but don’t back down either.

We were led to our dorms, a long stone corridor with tall windows overlooking cliffs shrouded in mist. Our rooms were quaint yet imposing, with high ceilings and heavy wooden furniture. The wind whistled through the gaps in the windows, carrying a scent of pine, wet earth, and… something else. Something ancient.

As I unpacked, I tried to push aside my nerves. But the strange feeling in my chest—the one that whispered that nothing about this place was ordinary, refused to go away.

Later, I wandered the hall, drawn by curiosity. That’s when I saw a group of students walking together, laughing, confident in a way I wasn’t yet. The boy from the staircase was with them. The blonde girl leaning close to him… protective, maybe territorial. And two others I didn’t recognize. None of them looked like they’d talk to outsiders.

I stepped back into the shadows, unsure whether I was hiding or just observing. Something about the boy’s dark eyes met mine for the briefest second, assessing. And I felt… something I didn’t want to feel. Intrigue. Frustration. The strange pull of curiosity I hated admitting.

A sudden noise made me jump, a soft, scraping sound, like claws on stone. I froze. Lachlan peeked around the corner, eyes wide. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “And I don’t like it.”

Somewhere in the distance, laughter or a whisper echoed through the halls. I couldn’t tell which. The wind whistled again, colder now, as if Glenhaven itself were watching us settle in.

I pulled the blanket closer when I finally climbed into bed, staring at the shadowy outline of the towers against the mist. I couldn’t stop thinking about the boy, the strange symbols, the sound of whispered voices, and the feeling that this school had been waiting for us.

And I realized, with both fear and excitement, that nothing, nothing would ever be the same.