The chosen

The night sky hung low and bruised, the kind of sky that promised trouble. Stella Raine pressed her forehead against the cold window of the bus, watching the last lights of the town vanish behind the fog. The road ahead twisted upward into the hills, where only darkness waited.

Her letter from Saga Academy lay open on her lap — the ink shimmered faintly blue under the flickering light. “You have been chosen,” it read, signed by someone named Headmistress Kael. Chosen for what, it never said.

The bus rattled to a stop. The driver, an old man with eyes like dull metal, muttered without turning around, “We’re here.”

Stella looked up.

The gates of Saga Academy rose before her — tall iron spires twisted with vines that glowed faintly like veins of light. As the bus doors opened, a shiver ran through her. The air was different here, too still, too heavy.

When her sneakers touched the wet stone, every phone on the bus flickered and died. The driver only chuckled. “Happens every time,” he said. “Saga doesn’t like technology.”

Stella pulled her jacket closer. The other students whispered among themselves, all carrying the same letter she held, all with the same nervous curiosity that danced behind their eyes.

Through the mist, the figure of a woman appeared at the top of the steps. She was tall, graceful, her dark coat sweeping behind her like wings.

“Welcome to Saga Academy,” the woman said, voice smooth and sharp like a blade. “I am Headmistress Kael. Each of you was chosen for a reason. And in time, that reason will reveal itself.”

Her gaze drifted over the crowd until it found Stella. For one strange second, it lingered — as if Kael already knew her.

Then she smiled faintly and turned away.

The students were led inside. The academy loomed above them, ancient and alive — its stone walls breathing with flickers of blue light, the faint sound of whispers moving through the corridors.

Stella’s dorm room was small but neat. A single candle glowed on the desk beside her bed. Her roommate, Ari, was already unpacking — cheerful, brown-haired, talkative.

“You’re the new transfer, right?” Ari asked. “From the city?”

Stella nodded. “Yeah. It’s… bigger than I expected.”

“You’ll get used to it.” Ari smiled. “Just hope you pass the Awakening tomorrow.”

“The what?”

“The Awakening. It’s a tradition here. They test you — see what kind of power you’ve got. Some people faint, some throw up, and some… don’t come back.”

Stella frowned. “You’re kidding.”

Ari shrugged. “You’ll see at dawn.”

When Ari left for the showers, the room fell silent except for the rain outside. Stella unpacked her bag — clothes, notebooks, a small mirror she didn’t remember packing.

Her reflection blinked before she did.

Startled, she stepped closer. The surface of the mirror rippled like disturbed water, and words began to form across it — glowing blue, same as the ink on her letter:

> Do not trust the mirrors. They remember what you forget.

Her heart thudded. She stumbled back, knocking over the candle.

The mirror stilled.

When she looked again, the message was gone — only her pale reflection stared back.

Somewhere deep in the academy, a bell tolled once — low and distant.

And though she couldn’t explain why, Stella felt that something beneath Saga Academy had just awakened to her arrival.