Page 4 of A Touch of Darkness

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 herLnecklace. I absentmindedly bring my fingers up tomySnecklace. 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.”

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