Page 4 of A Touch of Darkness (Chronicles of the Cursed #1)

I lace up my combat boots as the morning sun filters through the arched windows of Blackthorne, casting fragmented light across the polished stone floor of our dorm room. I have to admit, despite the bed not being anything fancy, I slept like a rock. Maybe it was the exhaustion from the flights, the adrenaline, or the sheer overwhelm of everything new, but my mind—thank God—didn’t spiral into its usual maze of overthinking.

Lara hums a vaguely familiar song as she runs a brush through her hair, her movements unhurried. She’s always had an uncanny ability to remain calm, no matter what life throws at us. We may be twins, but she’s always been my voice of reason. My anchor.

“First day of classes!” she sing-songs off tune with a grin, tossing her brush onto the desk. “You ready, sis?”

I grab an oversized flannel from my closet and shrug it on over my black T-shirt, glancing at her in the mirror as she adjusts her L necklace. I absentmindedly bring my fingers up to my S necklace. They were birthday presents from our parents on our sixteenth birthday. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I admit.

She laughs, and the sound slices through the lingering unease coiling at the edges of my chest. It’s ridiculous, really. This is just school—a new place, a new beginning. There’s nothing unusual happening, no matter how strange the atmosphere. Still, that shadow of anxiety clings to me like smoke, maybe slightly less intrusive than yesterday, and I’ll take that as a win.

The courtyard is bustling as we step outside. Students now swarm the once-empty halls, chatting, rushing, and laughing. The normalcy of it all puts me at welcomed ease.

“I’ve got a literature class in the South wing,” Lara says, checking her schedule. We’ve talked about our schedules a few times since getting them at our online orientation last month. Lara is majoring in Folklore and Mythology—a passion she’s had since we were kids listening to Dad’s stories about lost civilizations and ancient curses. I opted for psychology, something more…practical.

Our schedules rarely cross, and she says it’s a good thing, a chance for me to find my footing. I know what she really means, though…

It's less time to be in her shadow and depend on her to fix things for me.

“Wanna do dinner tonight?” she asks, effectively pulling me back into the present.

“Sure,” I reply, trying to match her relaxed smile.

She leans in and taps my forehead. “Stop overthinking, sis. It’s going to be fine.”

I laugh, swatting her hand away, although I needed to hear her words. The twin thing is real—she always knows how I’m feeling. Sometimes even before I do.

“Go,” I tell her. “You’ll be late.”

Lara waves as she disappears into the crowd, her raven hair briefly catching the sunlight and glistening. I watch her go, a nagging feeling tightening in my chest, but I do as Lara instructed and try to stop myself from reading too much into it. It’s nothing. Just nerves.

My first class is Abnormal Psychology. The lecture hall is cavernous—reminding me of an old cathedral—with high ceilings and rows upon rows, upon rows , of desks that spiral downward toward a central lectern. The professor is an older, sharp-eyed woman with a presence that commands attention. A take-no-shit type of demeanor to her.

She tucks her long gray hair behind her pierced ears and looks up from her spot at the podium. “Welcome to the study of the mind’s darkest corners,” she begins, her voice smooth, relatively deep, and steady as she pushes her glasses further up her nose, looking out at her students. “This course will challenge your understanding of what it means to be human.”

And she’s right. Her words settle over the room like a spell, and I’m instantly hooked. She dives into the history of psychological disorders, the evolution of treatment, and the blurred line between madness and brilliance. The students around me hastily scribble notes, their focus unwavering. I didn’t expect to get in to so much today, but we’re really moving quickly. I hope the rest of my classes are as fast paced as this.

I’m surprised at my ability to stay relatively engaged, but my thoughts drift from time to time. That sense of unease lingers at the edges of my mind, like static on a radio. It’s not overwhelming, but it’s there—a quiet hum that refuses to let me settle.

When class ends, I feel lighter. The professor’s voice still echoes in my mind as I step into the hallway, joining the throng of students heading to their next destinations.

The day passes in a blur of introductions and lectures. By the time I head back to our dorm, I’m feeling surprisingly optimistic. Blackthorne doesn’t seem so daunting anymore. Even its unsettling vibe is something I think I could get used to in time.

I drop my backpack by my small desk in the corner and slump into the chair, rubbing the back of my neck. The late afternoon sun is already casting shadows, catching on the glossy wood floor and brightening the rows of a couple half-unpacked boxes that arrived earlier today—we had to ship some of our things because we flew and used a rideshare to get to campus. Lara is lounging on her bed, scrolling through something on her phone. She glances up when she hears me sigh.

“Long day?” she asks softly, setting her phone aside.

“You have no idea,” I reply, exhaling a dry laugh. “Or maybe you do.”

“Between orientation, meeting new professors, and collecting all these syllabi… I feel like my head’s going to explode,” she says before sitting up and gathering her dark hair into a low ponytail. “I get it. My brain’s stuck on a loop of ‘read these chapters, we’ll have plenty of pop quizzes.’ It’s only day one, and I’m already planning a color-coded calendar.”

I crack a genuine smile. “Color-coded, huh? I’m impressed.”

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “We’ll see how long it lasts before I go back to my messy handwriting and piles of sticky notes that I write and never look at again.” Her gaze flicks around the room, then back to me. “So, you up for dinner soon, or do you want to unwind a little first?”

My stomach offers its opinion with a low, rumbling growl. “Ready to head down whenever you are. You good to go now?”

“Definitely,” Lara says, slipping off the bed and toeing into her sneakers. “I was starting to get hungry, too. Besides, I’m dying to hear all the details about your classes.”

I stand up and stretch, feeling the tightness in my shoulders. “You can quiz me over pasta,” I say wryly. “I’m sure the cafeteria has something decent left. I just hope we’re not too late.”

She hums in agreement. “I doubt it. But if the food’s picked over, we’ll survive on whatever’s left. I’d take soggy pizza at this point. I’m bordering on starving.”

I can’t help a chuckle. “Let’s not aim too high, right?”

Lara crosses the room and pulls me toward the door. It’s a comforting routine—us heading out together, sharing the day’s ups and downs. We’ve always been close, but living here at Blackthorne feels like a new chapter in our lives. There’s a sense of excitement buzzing just beneath my tiredness, like we’re finally where we’re meant to be.

We step out of our room, and the first thing that hits me is the grand architecture. I don’t think I’ll ever fully get used to how different this place is from our dingy public high school back in Chicago. As we walk, the hallway stretches before us like something from a medieval castle—high-arched ceilings, tall windows that let in the last slivers of evening light, and dark wooden doors spaced out along the stone walls. The floor is polished to a reflective sheen, and my boots squeak faintly as I walk, reminding me how new this all is.

Lara glances around, her ponytail swishing at her back as she takes everything in. Neither of us speak for a moment. Everything feels too overwhelming.

Blackthorne might be our new school, but it feels more like a Gothic mansion, complete with hidden alcoves and narrow, twisting corridors that I’m pretty sure I’d get lost in if not for the signs posted at every turn.

Well, I did get lost today—at least twice. But it wasn’t as bad as it could be, and the signs helped me right myself fairly quickly.

A group of what look like upperclassmen brush past us, their voices echoing against the vaulted ceiling. They’re carrying heavy textbooks pressed to their chests, some of them complaining about reading loads, others laughing about jokes we’re not privy to. The air buzzes with energy, a tangible hum of anticipation and fatigue after the first full day of classes.

Up ahead, the wide spiral staircase unfurls like a giant snail shell, its banister carved from cold, smooth stone. A few tarnished sconces line the walls, flickering with electric bulbs designed to look like candles. Shadows dance across the stairs, giving them a slightly eerie vibe, and I’m half-convinced they might lead to some secret dungeon if I take a wrong turn.

We join the stream of students descending the spiral stairs, the murmurs of conversation overlapping into a comforting white noise. From somewhere below comes the faint clatter of dishes and the smell of roasted chicken—sure signs that dinner’s well underway.

Lara leans in closer to be heard over the chatter. “So,” she says, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial half-whisper, “give me the rundown on your day. Any professors seem demanding or, preferably, easygoing? Or do they all just look like they’re plotting to bury us in reading material?”

I snort at the question, trailing my fingers along the banister as we circle downward. “A bit of both, honestly. There was one professor that felt super intense. She told us to expect weekly essay assignments, plus a massive research paper around midterms.”

Lara’s eyes widen, and in the dim light of the corridor, they seem a deeper brown than usual. “Sounds daunting. But you’ve always been good at writing. I bet you’ll blow that class out of the water.”

A small flutter of relief flickers through my chest. Her faith in me makes the workload feel a bit less intimidating. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I say, letting my hand drift away from the banister. “What about you? Anything crazy happen?”

A playful grin spreads across Lara’s face. “I think I might be in love with a dude in my Philosophy 101 class. He walked in late and looked a little lost. But, oh my God, Sylv, his eyes really are the most beautiful hazel green. I could legit get lost in them.”

Lara practically swoons and I laugh at her ability to fall in love on the first day.

She isn’t kidding, either. As serious as a heart attack.

We reach the final bend of the spiral staircase, passing an antique tapestry depicting some old family crest—probably a relic from whatever lord or lady once owned this massive place. I can’t help but glance at it, marveling at the intricate threadwork, before focusing back on Lara. “Only you would fixate on eye color on the first day instead of the reading assignments,” I tease.

“Hey, I can multitask,” she shoots back with mock indignation, though her smile tells me she’s loving every minute of it. “Besides, at least it adds a little excitement to the endless lecture notes.”

I roll my eyes but laugh, appreciating her ability to find fun in practically any situation. We follow the corridor on the first floor, which is lined with stained-glass windows set in the stone walls. The colored panes cast jewel-toned beams across the floor—deep reds, blues, and greens that shift with the last rays of the setting sun. It feels like we’re in some sort of enchanted hallway out of a fairy tale, especially with the way it feels like this place is fully alive. I can’t put my finger on it. It’s just…a feeling. Students meander around us, chatting about everything from the cafeteria food to some sporting event and a bonfire this weekend. A few wave or nod, everyone still in the early stages of forging friendships.

Finally, Lara pushes open a pair of heavy wooden doors that lead us to the dining hall. A wave of warm air greets us, carrying the aroma of roasted chicken, fresh bread, and something sweet—maybe pie or dessert pastries.

“My God, that smells amazing,” I say, my stomach rumbling in response.

Lara nods. “Think they’ll have any of that soup left? It smelled so good at lunchtime.”

“One can only hope,” I say, scanning the buffet setup. Rows of steaming trays line the back wall, and clusters of students hover nearby, grabbing plates and exchanging small talk. The medieval ambiance continues here: vaulted ceilings, more stained glass, and opulent chandeliers that cast a soft glow over the long wooden tables. The photos online seriously don’t do this place justice—at all.

I spot an empty table near a tall, narrow window and gesture toward it. “Let’s grab dinner, then snag that spot before someone else does.”

“Perfect,” Lara says. “Ooh! Let’s keep an eye out for your new mystery man you saw yesterday, just in case he’s around. Did you see him at all today?”

“So funny, Lar,” I retort, rolling my eyes good-naturedly. But inside, I’m glad she’s relaxed enough to joke around. Despite the imposing architecture, the substantial schedule, and the pressure we’ve both been feeling, there’s a warmth to being here together—like we’re on the cusp of something great. Like we have a chance to be close to our parents again.

Lara and I have claimed a small table near one of the tall, arched windows, our trays in front of us. Outside, a dusky twilight settles over the expansive Blackthorne grounds. Inside, the air continues to vibrate with overlapping voices.

“Somehow, I’m still so hungry,” I admit, eyeing my plate of half-eaten mashed potatoes and chicken. “I swear I had a decent lunch, but I feel like I could eat all of this easily.”

Lara chuckles, pushing a few stray dark hairs behind her ear. “You’d better pace yourself. We still have to survive the rest of the semester, and I hear the dessert bar can be dangerous to one’s figure.”

I scoff. “At this point, I need the carbs to fuel all the homework we’re apparently going to have. We can compare notes tonight, just in case any of these classes have overlapping reading or something.” I reach for my water cup.

“Totally,” she agrees.

Movement across the dining hall catches my attention. I see Nicole weaving between tables, followed closely by Rebecca walking just behind her. They appear to be searching for a place to sit.

“Oh, look—Nicole and Rebecca,” I say, setting my cup down.

Lara grins and says, “Let’s invite them over.” She lifts an arm and waves, her bright smile lighting her face. “Hey! Nicole, Rebecca! Over here!” she calls above the chatter.

The girls spot us at nearly the same time, their faces showcasing their relief. They hurry over, trays balanced in their arms, and set them down beside us.

“Mind if we join you?” Nicole asks, her blue eyes scanning our table for free space.

“Not at all,” Lara replies, scooting her tray to make room. “Grab a chair.”

Rebecca settles in, exhaling a dramatic sigh. “I swear I just walked through a gauntlet—this dining hall is chaos. Even crazier than last year.” She glances at Nicole. “We practically did an obstacle course to get these plates.”

Nicole nods in agreement as she relaxes into her seat. “I almost collided with some guy carrying a stack of books and a latte. Coulda got real messy.” She glances around, looking at both Lara and me. “So, how’s your day been? Did you guys enjoy your first full day of classes at Blackthorne U?”

I exchange a look with Lara, then shrug as she says, “Busy. But good. It feels like every class is competing to see who can assign the most reading.”

Nicole chuckles. “I know the feeling. My psych professor seems convinced we can finish an entire textbook by mid-semester.”

“Mine too,” Lara adds. “Well, not psych, but anthropology. The professor seems a bit unrealistic. I’m already bracing for the lack of sleep.”

Rebecca snorts, twirling a forkful of pasta. “Welcome to Blackthorne. If the building’s Gothic architecture doesn’t intimidate and terrify you, the homework load will.”

That earns a laugh from all of us. I glance around at the high-arched ceiling, the weathered stone walls, and the tall windows that reveal dark silhouettes of trees outside. Shadows from the chandeliers seem to skitter across the floor as students move about, piling more food onto their plates. The architecture really is a bit chilling. She isn’t wrong.

“Speaking of Blackthorne,” Lara says, leaning in. “Today I overheard rumors about certain wings of the school being off-limits. Any truth to that?”

Nicole purses her lips, as if considering how much to share. “I’ve heard the same, but I’m not sure how accurate the rumors are. Some say the administration keeps parts of the mansion closed because they’re unstable. Others say there’s some hush-hush research going on. I heard whispers about it last year, but nothing ever really came from it.”

“That old third-floor West wing myth, right?” Rebecca chimes in. “The place is supposedly haunted by the family who originally owned the mansion back in the early 1900s—apparently, they died here, too. I’ve never seen any ghosts for myself—just heard the stories.” She lowers her voice dramatically. “Creaking floors… flickering lights…”

Lara narrows her eyes, clearly intrigued. “Do you really think the place is haunted?” she asks inquisitively.

“I think it’s a possibility.” Nicole shrugs as she looks at Rebecca, something knowing in her features. Then, she grins. “At least it adds character. Otherwise, we’d just be a bunch of overworked students in a giant stone building.”

Rebecca starts to say something else, but then she looks at me, her eyes narrowing with curiosity. “Sylvie, you’ve been quiet. What’s your take on all this? Do you think the rumors are true? Did you hear anything today while in classes?” She looks at Nicole, like maybe the two of them know more than they’re letting on. Or maybe I’m just reading into things like always.

Heat prickles at the back of my neck. It’s not that I don’t have opinions—I’m just used to Lara taking the lead in conversations. “Oh, I’m… not sure,” I admit. “I mean, we’ve only been here one full day. For all we know, the restricted wings could be full of cleaning supplies.” I force a small laugh, hoping I don’t sound too awkward.

Nicole looks between Lara and me. “Don’t tell me, Lara is the wildcard; Sylvie, you’re the calm, thoughtful one?” she guesses, raising an eyebrow.

“Exactly,” I say, my lips curving into a genuine smile. “It’s been that way since we were little.”

Lara nods in agreement, reaching across the table to cover my hand with hers. “Sylvie’s always been the brainy one, too. She’s the reason I even made it through math class in high school. She may be more reserved, more quiet, but she has way more going on in her brain than me. Always has.”

Nicole laughs. “I sense some good stories here. So, which one of you is the bigger troublemaker?”

Lara points at herself with a mock-innocent expression, and we all break into light laughter. I realize it’s easier than I thought to chime in throughout the conversation, especially with Nicole and Rebecca making space for me in the conversation.

Rebecca looks between Lara and me, then tilts her head curiously. “It must be nice having a twin. Or having a sister in general, one you can be so close to. I’m an only child so I never had what you two have.” A grim expression crosses her face, and I do feel bad for people who aren’t in our position. I wouldn’t trade Lara for the world.

Nicole’s eyes light up with interest. “How’s that been, growing up side by side? I have a sibling, but he’s an annoying little brother.”

Lara and I share a warm, knowing glance. My chest tightens with affection for her—she’s been my other half in so many ways. I look at Rebecca and Nicole, trying to sum up what it’s like in a few words, feeling comfortable with the two of them. It doesn’t usually happen this organically with new people, but I feel like I actually want to talk to them. It’s a rare feeling for me. “Honestly? It’s been amazing. We’ve always had someone to fall back on—someone who understands us. I’m shy, and Lara’s the brave one. She’s the reason I don’t spend all my time buried in books. Sometimes I just need a little nudge.”

“Ha!” Lara exclaims, throwing me a playful grin. “Meanwhile, Sylvie kept me from flunking out of school, like I said. She’s always been the responsible one, making sure we stay on schedule. In high school, if I wanted to skip study hall, she’d march me right back into class like a mother hen.”

Rebecca laughs, clearly enjoying the dynamic. “Sounds like a great balance.”

Nicole taps her fingers against her tray, her gaze darting between us. “Is that why you both decided to room together here at Blackthorne, too? Couldn’t imagine being apart? I’ve always wanted a sister, but I’ve also thought about how sick of her I’d be if I had one.” She giggles mischievously.

Lara and I exchange a quick, amused look. “Pretty much,” she says simply. “We like our space, sure, but being at the same school and sharing a dorm makes this big change less intimidating. We don’t get sick of each other often,” she says. “But when we do, we aren’t shy about letting each other know…”

“Yep. Like when she won’t shut up when I’m trying to fall asleep,” I say in reference to last night, and the girls all laugh. “Growing up, we were inseparable—like we had our own little team within each other. Now, with Blackthorne being so huge and daunting, it’s nice to have someone who knows me better than anyone else.”

Nicole and Rebecca grin in unison. “You guys are seriously so cute,” Nicole says. “Rebecca just has to be my honorary sister since I’ll never have one of my own.” She glances at Rebecca and scrunches up her nose with a smile, and Rebecca nods.

A fresh wave of laughter ripples through our group, and for a moment, I take it all in: the echoes of conversation around us, the glow of the chandeliers illuminating my sister’s smile, and the easy camaraderie that’s forming between the four of us.

For a moment, the table falls quiet as we focus on finishing our meals. I listen to the surrounding clamor: trays clanking, laughter mingling with the hum of conversation, doors opening and closing as more students trickle in. Despite the chaos, there’s a warmth in my chest—a sense of belonging that wasn’t there when I arrived yesterday, nerves twisted in my gut.

Finally, I set my fork aside and lean back. “Thanks for sitting with us and chatting,” I say, looking at Nicole and Rebecca. “It’s nice to have others to share the insanity with.”

“Right back at you,” Rebecca replies, tapping her cup against mine in a light toast. “To surviving our first day—and all the weird mysteries of Blackthorne and those that inhabit it.”

We clink cups, and a small part of me thinks that maybe this place isn’t so overwhelming after all. With Lara by my side and new friends across the table, I’m beginning to see that Blackthorne isn’t just a Gothic fortress of textbooks and extreme professors and late-night studying. It’s a place where we can carve out our own stories while not forgetting our past. And that feels like a really nice contrast.