Maledicta

Chapter One: The Perfect School

St. Aurelia Academy was the kind of place parents dreamed about. Its walls gleamed white under the sun, its gardens bloomed year-round, and its students walked in crisp uniforms that made them look like they belonged in glossy brochures. The school festivals were dazzling—lanterns floating into the night sky, music echoing across the city, fireworks painting the heavens. To outsiders, it was flawless. To insiders, it was tradition.

But beneath the perfection, something was wrong.

For decades, students had gone missing. Not many—just enough to be brushed off as accidents, runaways, or "tragic encounters with wild animals" near the forest behind the campus. The administration always had an explanation. Parents believed it. Teachers pretended to. And the students? They whispered. The whispers said the school was alive.

Akira was new to St. Aurelia. He wasn't dazzled by the trophies in the hallway or the endless speeches about excellence. He was more interested in the people. Especially one person: Lina, the girl who sat two rows ahead in English class. She had a laugh that could cut through the stiff silence of the academy, and she wasn't afraid to make jokes about the school's absurd rules.

"Did you know," she whispered one day, leaning back toward Akira, "that the principal banned chewing gum because he thinks ghosts get stuck in it?"

Akira snorted so loudly the teacher glared at him. Lina grinned. That was the moment he knew he was doomed.

It was during gym class that Akira noticed something strange. The basketball court had claw marks etched into the floorboards, deep enough to splinter the wood. When he asked about it, the coach laughed nervously. "Old damage. Don't worry about it." But later that night, Akira heard scratching outside his dorm window. He looked down into the courtyard and saw a shadow moving—too tall, too thin, its arms bending at impossible angles.

The next morning, a boy from his dorm was gone. His bed was neatly made, his shoes lined up, but his backpack was missing. The teachers said he had "transferred." No one believed it.

The annual Lantern Festival was the highlight of the year. Students decorated the campus with glowing paper lanterns, each carrying a wish. Akira and Lina worked together on theirs, scribbling jokes instead of wishes. "May the cafeteria finally serve food that doesn't taste like cardboard," Lina wrote. "May the math teacher stop looking like he's plotting murder," Akira added. They laughed until their sides hurt. For a moment, the school felt normal.

But when the lanterns floated into the sky, Akira noticed one drifting lower than the rest. It hovered above the forest, glowing faintly red instead of gold. He swore he saw a face inside it—eyes hollow, mouth stretched wide.

Akira and Lina grew closer. They studied together, shared snacks, and made fun of the school's bizarre traditions. Lina confessed she hated the academy's perfection. "It feels fake," she said one evening. "Like the walls are smiling too hard." Akira agreed. He wanted to tell her about the shadow he'd seen, but he didn't want to scare her. Instead, he promised, "If anything weird happens, I'll protect you."

She laughed. "What are you going to do, punch a ghost?" "Exactly," he said. "Ghosts don't expect uppercuts."

It was funny. It was sweet. It was doomed.

One night, Lina dared Akira to sneak into the basement with her. "They say it's locked for renovations," she whispered. "But I bet it's haunted."

They crept past the guards, down the stairwell, and into the dark. The air smelled of rust and rot. Their flashlights flickered. The walls were lined with cages. Inside were bones—human and animal, fused together in grotesque shapes. Some cages rattled, though they were empty.

Akira's stomach turned. Lina squeezed his hand. "We should go."

But before they could, the PA system crackled to life.

"Welcome to the midnight game. Only one of you will graduate."

The doors slammed shut.

They ran, but the hallways twisted. Every turn led back to the cages. Shadows moved in the corners, faceless figures with jaws that opened too wide. Akira held Lina close. "We'll get out," he whispered.

But the school had other plans.