Cortney McElroy

Cortney McElroy adjusted the strap of her backpack as she stepped into the bustling dorm lobby, her medium dirty blonde hair catching the fluorescent lights overhead. The orientation packet had been overwhelming—classes, clubs, Tabz, and that weirdly vague warning about the castle. But right now, all she cared about was finding her room before her roommate claimed the good bed. The elevator was packed, so she took the stairs, her sneakers squeaking against the polished steps. Third floor, room 312. The door was slightly ajar when she arrived, and she hesitated before pushing it open.

Inside, a girl with jet-black hair tied in a messy bun was already unpacking a pile of band t-shirts onto the left bed. She turned at the sound of the door, flashing a grin that showed slightly crooked canines. "Hey! You must be Cortney," she said, tossing a crumpled shirt onto the growing pile. "I’m Jules. Claimed this side ‘cause the outlet’s closer. Hope you don’t mind." Cortney shrugged, dropping her duffel bag onto the other bed. "As long as the mattress isn’t a brick, we’re good." Jules snorted. "Oh, it is. But hey, free education, right?"

Cortney groaned dramatically and flopped onto the mattress, bouncing slightly. "Ugh, figures. My sister Dinea warned me dorm beds feel like sleeping on a cafeteria tray." Jules laughed and tossed her a Twinkie from her open snack box. "Here, carb therapy helps. So, what’s your major?" "Pre-med," Cortney said, peeling the wrapper. "You?" "Occult studies." Jules wiggled her eyebrows when Cortney choked on her bite. "Kidding. Journalism. But I do have a midnight class tonight—that weird ‘bonus’ one they mentioned. You going?" Cortney sighed...yeah...I accidentally clicked accept instead of decline, their were no details in the email, so I wasn't gonna waste my time, but now I have to go

Jules grinned, tossing another Twinkie at her. "Lucky you! Now I don’t have to go alone. It’s at midnight, though. You think they’re gonna make us summon a demon or something?" If their cultists yeah said Cortney .

rolling her eyes. "But seriously, what kind of class starts at midnight? Are we gonna be dissecting frogs under blacklight or something?" Jules stretched her arms behind her head, her grin widening. "Only one way to find out. Meet you back here at 11:30? We can grab energy drinks from Tabz first—liquid courage, just in case." Cortney groaned but nodded. "Fine. But if this turns out to be some pyramid scheme or a timeshare pitch, I’m blaming you." --- The campus was eerily quiet at night, the usual buzz of students replaced by the distant hum of streetlights.

Jules and Cortney walked side by side, their footsteps too loud on the empty pathways. "Okay, where is this class supposed to be?" Cortney muttered, checking her phone for the tenth time. The email had only given a room number—Hallow Hall, Room 13. Jules squinted at a weathered campus map under the glow of her phone. "Uh… that’s the old building next to the castle. The off-limits castle." Cortney stopped walking. "You’re joking." Jules smirked. "Nope.

She pointed toward the darkened silhouette of Hallow Hall, its gothic spires barely visible against the moonlight. A single flickering lamp illuminated the path leading to its entrance—a wrought-iron gate with an unsettlingly ornate "V" carved into the archway. Cortney swallowed hard. "You sure this isn’t just a prank? Because I swear, if we walk in there and it’s some frat guys in vampire capes—" Jules nudged her forward. "Relax. Worst case, we bail. Best case? Free snacks and a cult story to tell at parties."

The wrought-iron gate creaked as they pushed it open, the sound too loud in the silent night. Cortney grabbed Jules’ sleeve. “Wait—that ‘V’ symbol was on the email too. You don’t think…” Jules hesitated, then grinned. “Oh, now you’re scared? Come on, pre-med. Where’s your scientific curiosity?” The door to Hallow Hall was unlocked. Inside, the air smelled like old books and something metallic—ink, maybe, or rust. A single flickering candle lit the hallway, casting long shadows toward Room 13. The door was already open.

Cortney and Jules stepped inside Room 13, their sneakers scuffing against warped wooden floorboards. The classroom looked nothing like the sterile lecture halls they'd seen during orientation. Instead of desks, there were thirteen high-backed chairs arranged in a circle around a single unlit black candle. The walls were covered in peeling murals—strange symbols, constellations Cortney didn’t recognize, and that same ornate "V" repeated like a signature. A man in a professor’s tweed jacket stood at the center, his back to them as he scribbled something in chalk on a slate board. When he turned, his eyes.