The halls of Velridge Academia whispered like they had lungs of their own — breathing secrets into every corner. Built of steel, glass, and silence, the elite institution didn't scream wealth. It murmured it.
Arwa adjusted the strap of her bag, her eyes tracing the cold corridor as she passed locked doors and spotless floors. It was only her second week, but she already knew: this place didn't welcome newcomers. It sized them up.
A soft mechanical click made her pause. A locker behind her creaked open on its own. Not fully. Just enough to be noticed.
Inside, an envelope. Matte black. Her name written in calligraphy she didn't recognize.
She hesitated. Then took it.
Inside: a single card, thick and ivory, with gold-pressed letters.
"You've been selected.
Midnight. West Tower. Room 308.
Do not be followed."
No signature. No explanation. No insignia. But her fingers trembled as if they already knew — this was not just some student prank.
Velridge didn't have "pranks." It had tests.
---
Midnight came too soon.
The West Tower was off-limits after dusk — faculty orders. But Arwa had stopped asking questions on her third day here. Rules weren't warnings. They were dares.
Room 308 sat behind a frosted glass door. She entered.
Four students sat in a perfect arc around a round table of black stone. Two girls. Two boys. The fifth chair was empty.
All of them were masked. The kind you'd see in masquerade balls, sleek and silver. Their eyes followed her. Silent. Assessing.
No one spoke.
The boy to her left — lean frame, charcoal suit — gestured to the last chair. She sat.
Before her was a screen. It flickered to life the moment she touched the table.
A video. Grainy. Black and white.
A room. A girl.
Tied to the fifth chair.
Sobbing.
Saying her name.
Arwa's spine went rigid. "What is this?"
No one answered. The screen went black.
A voice — modulated and cold — filled the room.
"You have seen.
You have sat.
Now you will choose."
Silence.
The door behind them clicked shut.
Locked.
Arwa stood, panic rising. But no one else moved. They were used to this.
She wasn't.
"Your trial begins in 72 hours.
You may not leave the circle.
Watch carefully.
Trust slowly."
The lights dimmed. The screen went dark. And just like that, the room released them.
---
As she walked out, Arwa didn't notice the camera hidden behind the reflective glass wall.
It blinked red.
Recording.
And elsewhere, in a dimly lit chamber far from the West Tower, a figure leaned closer to a second monitor.
She was finally part of the five.
But she wasn't the only one watching the tape that night.