The cafeteria smells faintly of cinnamon, iron, and something like woodsmoke.
Golden light spills through tall, dust-caked windows, dancing over rows of chipped tables and whispering crowds. Everyone here looks… different. You’ve seen their kind before — in stories, in nightmares, in the things people pretend not to see.
But here? It feels normal.
Your tray shakes slightly in your hands as you scan the room. Packs of werewolves dominate the far tables, laughing too loud. Vampires sit by the windows, pale and elegant, their laughter quieter but sharper. Gillmen keep mostly to themselves, their lunch trays full of things that move.
You’re about to find a quiet corner when someone waves you over.
Cain: “Hey — you look lost. First day?”
He’s tall, pale, his hair the color of spilled ink. His uniform is rumpled, his fangs just barely visible when he smiles. There’s an easy charm to him — the kind that says he’s used to being noticed but isn’t sure if he likes it.
Cain: “Then you’re lucky. Most new kids don’t make it past first lunch without someone growling at them.”
He pats the seat beside him. “Sit. You can eat in peace here.”
You sit, grateful, as the rest of the table turns toward you with mixed curiosity and friendliness.
Lisa Kali: “He’s exaggerating. Most people only barely growl.”
She’s reclining in her chair, boots propped on the table, her dark hair streaked with crimson. Her eyes are a startling gold, and there’s something defiant in them — like she knows she doesn’t belong anywhere and doesn’t care.
Cain: “Lisa, play nice. We’re trying to make a good impression.”
Lisa: “Oh please, you just want to look good in front of the new blood.”
She smirks at you. “Don’t worry. He’s harmless… mostly.”
Ronan Graves (Werewolf): “You say that like it’s a bad thing. The last new kid joined the theater club and vanished by the next full moon.”
He grins — big, shaggy, and all teeth. Despite his intimidating size, there’s a warmth to him, like an old dog who’d bite you only if he really had to. “Name’s Ronan. Don’t listen to the vampire drama. They feed on it.”
Cain: “Says the guy who howls at passing mail trucks.”
Ronan: “Those trucks had attitude, Cain.”
Juniper Vale (Witch): “You’re all idiots.”
Her tone is dry, but her eyes are kind. Her hair is silver-blonde, braided with small charms that clink softly. The faint smell of sage follows her everywhere. “Ignore them. Elden Grove’s not so bad once you get used to the rules.”
Juniper: “Oh, you know. Don’t go near the woods after sunset. Don’t look the demons in the eyes when they’re smiling. And definitely don’t use the vending machines on the third floor.”
Juniper: “Because the vending machine looks back.”
Everyone laughs, though you can’t tell if they’re joking.
Milo Thorne (Gillman): “They’re half right.”
He’s quiet — skin with a faint shimmer, like moonlight on water. His voice has a liquid calm to it. “It’s not really a machine. It’s… older.” He stirs his drink, which glows faintly blue. “This whole place is older.”
Milo: “Elden Grove doesn’t change. The people do, but the town doesn’t. You’ll see.”
You glance around the cafeteria again. The longer you look, the stranger it feels.
The walls pulse faintly, like they’re breathing. Outside, the fog clings to the glass, pressing in from all sides. You can’t see where the school ends — or if it does.
Lisa: “Don’t let it get to you.”
She nudges you with her elbow. “The isolation thing. Everyone feels it at first. You’ll think you can leave — that you’ll get out one weekend and see the next town over.”
Her smile fades slightly. “But you won’t.”
Cain: “Lisa—”
Lisa: “What? They deserve to know.”
Cain: “Not on their first day.”