RAVENNA

Part 3

Ten days passed like the wind. I spent them tucked into every corner of my life—helping Grammy in the kitchen, trying new recipes that nearly burned the house down, hunting in the woods with Gran, sneaking into a bar with Mera to dance until our feet hurt, and pretending like everything would stay the same forever. But forever only lasts until the train whistle blows.

On the tenth day, bags packed and heart thrumming, I stood on the station platform.

"Nieve, your gran wants to say something," Grammy called, fussing over my hair with a smile that didn't quite hide her glassy eyes. They looked happy, but I knew better. Beneath it all was that quiet sadness only grandparents feel when sending their only child off to the unknown.

The train's whistle cut through the air, sharp and final.

"Nivi," Gran said, his hand firm on my shoulder. "You've got a sharp mind and good judgment, but sometimes—" his grip tightened on my hand "—sometimes reason won't be enough. There will come a day you'll need to decide with your heart, not your head. When doubt clouds you, look for the light within yourself. That light will never lie to you."

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.

Grammy sniffled, then forced herself to sound cheerful. "And remember—eat well. Never skip lunch, always finish your breakfast. Make friends, lots of them. Oh, and don't—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know what you're doing." I grinned. "You're plotting to turn me into a piggy."

She swatted my arm with mock severity, but her lips trembled with a smile.

With a final wave, I boarded the train to my new life.

The ride was long, and by the time the train screeched to its last stop, I was eager to stretch my legs. But when I stepped off, the sight before me sent a shiver crawling up my spine.

The platform was utterly deserted. Not quiet—empty. No voices, no footsteps, no conductor shouting times. Just me, the sound of wind rattling through weeds, and the groan of the station itself.

The place looked ancient, as though it hadn't been touched in decades. Vines clawed their way up the cracked walls, bushes split the concrete, and the benches wore thick layers of dust—thick enough to write my name in.

Great. Haunted platform, empty station, not a single soul in sight. Ten points to Creepy Hogwarts.

I sighed. If the school looks like this, I'm turning right back around.

"Nieve Winston?"

I spun at the sound. Standing there was a man—no, a giant of a man. He had to be at least seven feet tall, shoulders broad enough to block half the platform.

"Miss Winston," he greeted with a smile that was polite, if a little unsettling.

"Yes... that's me," I answered cautiously.

"I'm Gael Ezra," he said, voice smooth but carrying an odd chill. "Keeper, cleaner, driver—depends on the day. I'll be leading you to the school."

Before I could reply, movement behind him caught my attention. Something—or rather, someone—emerged from the shadows, wearing a grin so sharp it didn't quite belong to a human face. My stomach dropped.

"Oh, um—" Gael noticed my stare. "This is Gazelle."

I blinked. Gael. Gazelle. Really? Parents into rhyming games, huh?

"She's a changeling," he added, voice lower now, careful.

"And let me guess... your sister?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes." His sigh was soft, tired.

Well, that explained the name thing.

I extended my hand toward her, but Gazelle only stared, unmoving. Reluctant, distant. Gael gave her a subtle nod, and without a word she stepped forward—not to shake my hand, but to lift my bag from my shoulder.

"She's not much of a talker," he said as if apologizing.

"Clearly."

He led us toward a tunnel that yawned beneath the station. At first, I hesitated—dark, narrow, not exactly inviting—but when it opened up on the other side, my jaw nearly hit the ground.

Another platform stretched before us, this one gleaming, alive, like stepping into another world. Smooth black stone shimmered faintly as if dusted with starlight. Lanterns glowed warm amber, casting shadows that danced like fireflies. My earlier doubts slipped right out of me.

Okay. Forget what I said. No way I'm taking that train back home.

Gazelle guided me into one of the cars, helping me to settle into a seat. Her silence was unnerving, but I was too distracted by the faint prickle at the back of my neck—like unseen eyes following me. I turned quickly. Nothing. Just rows of empty seats.

The announcement echoed overhead: "We will arrive at our destination in one hour."

I sighed. Perfect amount of time for a nap. Except sleep didn't come.

Before long, the seat beside me creaked as someone dropped into it. I glanced over. A boy about my height, blonde hair, glasses slipping down his nose.

"Hi," he said brightly, already leaning forward like we were old friends.

"Hey," I replied, polite but guarded.

"My name's Rob Roy Snyder," he began, and before I could respond, words tumbled out of him like a runaway train. He told me everything—from how his family had saved for years to send him here, to his dreams of becoming someone important, to what he had for breakfast that morning.

I listened, half amused, half overwhelmed. He wasn't bad—just... a lot.

Still, there was something oddly comforting in his chatter. Parents working hard, chasing better futures for their kids—that part I understood. It was universal.

As he kept talking, my eyes flickered to the window, where the dark tunnel gave way to glimpses of a vast, glowing landscape. My heart thudded. The School of Sylvian was close.

And so was whatever awaited me there.