VARELUNE

The Girl Who Arrived After Midnight

The rain had been falling for three hours when Elara Veyne finally saw Lunevra Academy through the fog. The enormous iron gates stood open beneath a pale moon, revealing a long stone road disappearing between ancient trees. At the end of it rose the academy, a vast Gothic building covered in dark ivy, with hundreds of narrow windows glowing faintly against the night. Elara pressed her forehead against the cold car window and stared at the place that was supposed to become her home. She had imagined Lunevra many times since receiving her acceptance letter, but nothing in those imagined pictures had prepared her for the feeling that settled inside her chest now. It wasn't excitement. It wasn't fear. It was something quieter. A strange certainty that she had seen the building before. She closed her eyes, trying to remember where, but the memory slipped away before she could catch it. The driver cleared his throat. "Miss Veyne?" Elara opened her eyes. "Yes?" "We're here." She looked down at the old silver watch around her wrist. 12:07 a.m. Her arrival was late. Much later than the academy's official check-in time. She had been delayed by a broken train, a flooded road, and finally a taxi driver who had refused to continue through the forest. The academy had sent a car for the last part of the journey, but no one had explained why the driver had been waiting for her. Elara gathered her suitcase and stepped out. Cold rain touched her face immediately. The driver opened the trunk and placed her luggage on the ground. "I'll take you inside," he said. Elara nodded, pulling her coat tighter around herself. They walked toward the entrance beneath a stone archway carved with the academy's crest: a crescent moon surrounded by seven stars. As Elara reached the doors, they opened before she touched them. She stopped. The driver didn't react. "Someone is expecting you," he said. Elara looked inside. The entrance hall was enormous. Marble floors reflected the dim golden lights hanging from the ceiling. Portraits covered the walls, hundreds of them, each showing former students and faculty members. At the far end stood a staircase dividing into two wings. A woman in a black uniform waited beneath it. She was tall, silver-haired, and expressionless. "Elara Veyne," she said. It wasn't a question. Elara nodded. "Yes." The woman looked at her for several seconds. "You are late." "I'm sorry. The train—" "I know why you're late." Elara fell silent. The woman walked toward her. "I am Headmistress Evelyn Marlowe. Welcome to Lunevra." Her voice was calm, but there was something unusual about the way she said Elara's name. Almost as if she were confirming something she had already known. "Thank you," Elara said. The headmistress looked toward the suitcase. "Leave it." "But—" "Someone will take it to your room." Elara hesitated. "My room?" "East Wing. Third floor. Room 317." The headmistress turned away. "Follow me." Elara followed her through the entrance hall. The academy was even larger inside than it had appeared from outside. They passed corridors filled with students' photographs, old trophies, locked display cases, and doors bearing small brass plaques. Some corridors were completely dark. Elara noticed that the headmistress never looked toward them. They climbed two flights of stairs. On the third floor, the headmistress stopped in front of a tall wooden door. "This is your dormitory corridor. Girls' rooms are on this side." She handed Elara a small brass key. "Classes begin at eight." "I'll be there." The headmistress studied her face. "I hope you will." Elara frowned. "Is there a problem?" "No." The headmistress turned to leave. Then she stopped. "One more thing." Elara waited. "If you hear someone walking in the corridor after midnight, do not open your door." Elara stared at her. "Why?" The headmistress's expression didn't change. "Because there should be no one here after midnight." Then she walked away. Elara remained in the corridor, listening to the sound of the headmistress's footsteps fading into the distance. She looked at the key in her hand. Room 317. She unlocked the door and stepped inside. The room was beautiful. A four-poster bed stood beside a tall window overlooking the forest. A wooden desk faced the wall, and a small bookshelf had already been filled with textbooks. Someone had placed a vase of white flowers on the table. Elara closed the door behind her. For the first time that night, she allowed herself to breathe. She walked to the window. From the third floor, she could see the academy courtyard. A fountain stood in the center, surrounded by statues of former headmasters. The rain had stopped. Everything was silent. Then she noticed something. A light was shining in one of the upper windows of the old west tower. Elara stared at it. The west tower looked abandoned from outside. Its windows were dark except for that single room. She wondered who was there. She stepped closerto the glass. Suddenly the light disappeared. Elara's reflection stared back at her. She touched the window. Somewhere behind her, a floorboard creaked. She turned quickly. No one was there. Her bedroom door was still locked. Elara swallowed. "It's an old building," she whispered to herself. "Old buildings make noises." She changed clothes, placed her suitcase beside the bed, and tried to sleep. But the academy was too quiet. Every small sound seemed amplified—the ticking of the clock, the wind against the glass, the distant rainwater running through the gutters. At 1:16 a.m., she heard footsteps. Slow footsteps. Coming from the corridor outside. Elara opened her eyes. The footsteps stopped outside her door. She remembered the headmistress's warning. Do not open your door. She stayed still. A shadow appeared beneath the door. Someone was standing outside. Elara held her breath. The shadow remained there for several seconds. Then the person walked away. Elara waited. Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty. Finally she got out of bed and approached the door. Her hand hovered over the handle. She shouldn't open it. She knew that. But curiosity was stronger than fear. She quietly unlocked the door and opened it a few inches. The corridor was empty. She stepped outside. The lights flickered. At the end of the corridor, a figure stood near the staircase. A boy. Tall. Dressed in a dark academy uniform. He turned his head. Elara couldn't see his face clearly. "Hey," she called. The boy didn't answer. He disappeared down the stairs. Elara followed. She reached the staircase and looked over the railing. Nothing. She descended one floor. Still nothing. She heard a door close somewhere below. She followed the sound through a narrow hallway and stopped in front of an old wooden door. There was no handle. Only a small silver plaque. Room 214. Elara frowned. According to the academy map she had received, Room 214 didn't exist. She touched the door. It was locked. A voice spoke behind her. "You shouldn't be here." Elara spun around. The boy stood at the end of the hallway. This time she could see his face. Dark hair. Sharp features. Calm gray eyes. He looked about her age. He wore the academy uniform perfectly, as if he had never broken a rule in his life. "I was looking for my room," Elara said. "Your room is upstairs." "I know." His eyes moved toward Room 214. "Then why are you here?" Elara didn't answer. "Who are you?" she asked. "Adrian." "Adrian what?" "Vale." Elara recognized the surname immediately. The Vale family was one of the most influential families connected to Lunevra. Their name appeared on several buildings, scholarships, and academy awards. "You're Adrian Vale?" she asked. "Apparently." His voice was dry. Elara crossed her arms. "Why are you walking around after midnight?" Adrian looked at the clock on the wall. "You are too." "I heard footsteps." "So did I." "And?" "And you followed them." He looked almost amused. "That's not very smart." Elara frowned. "I didn't ask for advice." "No." He stepped closer. "You didn't." For a moment neither of them spoke. There was something strange about him. He seemed familiar, although Elara was certain she had never met him. Adrian glanced at the brass key hanging from her fingers. His expression changed. Just slightly. "Where did you get that?" "My room." "Room number?" "317." He stared at her. "You're Elara Veyne." It wasn't a question. Elara's stomach tightened. "How do you know my name?" Adrian didn't answer. He looked toward the dark corridor behind her. "Go back to your room." "Why?" "Because tomorrow you'll have enough questions." He turned away. "Wait." Adrian stopped. "How do you know me?" He looked over his shoulder. "I don't." Then he walked away. Elara watched him disappear into the darkness. She returned to her room, but sleep never came easily again. The next morning, Lunevra Academy looked completely different. Sunlight poured through the tall windows. Students filled the corridors, laughing and talking as though the building had never been silent. Elara walked toward the main hall with her schedule in hand. She felt every eye following her. New students always attracted attention, but scholarship students attracted a different kind of attention at Lunevra. She could hear whispers. "That's her." "The new girl?" "She's the scholarship student." "Apparently she came in last night." "After midnight?" Elara ignored them. She entered the classroom just before eight. Nearly every seat was occupied. She chose one near the window. A girl with long brown hair sat beside her. "You're new." Elara smiled. "Is it that obvious?" "Very." The girl laughed. "I'm Mira." "Elara." "I know." Elara raised an eyebrow. "Everyone knows already?" "This place knows everything before you do." Mira lowered her voice. "Especially if Adrian Vale is interested." Elara looked at her. "He's not interested." Mira smiled knowingly. "You met him." "Last night." Mira's smile disappeared. "Last night?" "In the corridor." "After midnight?" Elara nodded. Mira stared at her. "You opened your door?" "Yes." "Why would you do that?" "Because I heard footsteps." Mira looked genuinely worried. "Elara, don't do that again." "Why?" Before Mira could answer, the professor entered. "Good morning." The class became silent. Elara opened her notebook. The lesson began. But for the next hour, she could feel someone watching her. She glanced across the room. Adrian sat near the back, his expression unreadable. Their eyes met. He looked away first. Elara tried to focus on the lecture. At the end of class, the professor announced an academic competition. "This year, the academy will select two students to represent Lunevra in the International Young Scholars Program. Your performance over the next semester will determine the candidates." Students immediately began discussing it. Mira leaned toward Elara. "Adrian wins every year." "Every year?" "Pretty much." Elara looked back. Adrian was already leaving. "He doesn't look like he cares." Mira laughed. "That's exactly why everyone cares." The day passed quickly. Elara attended classes, toured the library, and learned the strange layout of the academy. There were three major wings: East, South, and West. The West Wing was restricted. Students weren't allowed inside without faculty permission. When Elara asked why, the librarian simply said, "Old construction." That evening, Elara sat in the dining hall with Mira. The room was enormous, with long wooden tables and chandeliers hanging overhead. Students talked loudly around them. "So," Mira said, "tell me about your life before Lunevra." "Nothing interesting." "Everyone says that until they tell the interesting part." Elara smiled. "I lived with my aunt. Studied. Worked part-time." "That's it?" "That's it." Mira studied her. "You really are quiet." "Is that bad?" "No. It's unusual here." A group of students entered the dining hall. Everyone turned. Adrian walked in with three other boys. Conversations became slightly quieter. Mira whispered, "That's him." Elara already knew. Adrian sat at the table across the room. He didn't look at her. She tried not to look at him either. Then someone placed a folded piece of paper beside her plate. Elara looked around. No one was watching. She opened it. There were only five words. YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE COME HERE. Her heart stopped. She looked toward the doors. No one suspicious. She folded the paper and put it into her pocket. "What's wrong?" Mira asked. "Nothing." "Elara." "Really. Nothing." That night, she waited until everyone in the dormitory was asleep before taking the note from her pocket. She examined it under the desk lamp. The handwriting was neat. No name. No explanation. She thought about throwing it away. Instead, she placed it inside her notebook. At 11:48 p.m., someone knocked on her door. Three slow knocks. Elara froze. She remembered the previous night. The headmistress's warning. She didn't answer. Three more knocks. Then silence. She waited for footsteps. None came. She approached the door and looked through the small opening beneath it. Nothing. She returned to bed. At exactly midnight, the lights in the entire corridor went out. Elara sat upright. Somewhere far away, a bell rang once. Then twice. Then a third time. She looked toward the window. The west tower was illuminated again. This time, the light was red. Elara knew she should stay in her room. Instead, she put on her coat and left. The corridor was empty. She moved silently through the academy, following the faint glow coming from the tower. She reached the old staircase leading toward the West Wing. A chain hung across the entrance. The chain had been unlocked. Elara hesitated. Then she stepped over it. The West Wing smelled of dust and old wood. Portraits covered the walls. Some had been damaged, their faces scratched out. She continued toward the tower. At the end of the hallway stood a door. On it was a brass plate. ROOM 214. Elara's pulse quickened. She touched the door. This time it opened. Inside was a small classroom. Desks covered in dust. An old blackboard. A broken clock. On the wall hung a large framed photograph. Elara walked closer. It showed a group of students standing outside Lunevra Academy. She recognized Adrian immediately. He stood in the back row. But something was wrong. Adrian looked exactly the same age as he did now. Elara stepped closer. The photograph was dated twenty years earlier. Her eyes widened. "Impossible." A sound came from behind her. She turned. Adrian stood in the doorway. "I told you not to come here." Elara backed away from the photograph. "Why are you in this picture?" Adrian said nothing. "It's twenty years old." Silence. "Adrian." He entered the room and closed the door. "Leave." "Not until you explain." "You don't understand what you're looking at." "Then explain it." He stared at the photograph. For the first time, his calm expression disappeared. He looked almost afraid. "That's not me," he said. Elara looked at him. "You expect me to believe that?" Adrian stepped closer to the photograph. "No." He touched the glass. "I expect you to forget you ever saw it." Elara shook her head. "Who is he?" Adrian didn't answer. "Who is the boy in this photograph?" Adrian looked directly at her. "His name was Adrian Vale." Elara's breath caught. "Was?" He nodded. "He disappeared twenty years ago." Before Elara could respond, footsteps echoed outside the classroom. Adrian immediately turned off the lamp. "Someone is coming." They stood in darkness. The footsteps grew closer. Elara could hear her own heartbeat. Adrian moved toward her and whispered, "Don't make a sound." The door handle began to turn. Elara held her breath. The door opened. A figure stood outside. They couldn't see the face. The figure stepped inside. Adrian grabbed Elara's hand and pulled her behind a tall cabinet. They waited. The stranger walked toward the photograph. A soft clicking sound followed. Then the person whispered, "She's here." Elara's blood ran cold. Adrian looked at her. Whoever had entered knew she was at Lunevra. And they had been waiting for her.