The Nobles of Doddington

Night finally settled, thick and heavy like spilled ink across the sea.

The ship reached the shores of Skye, its hull groaning softly as it rocked to a stop. When the children disembarked, the chill of night hit them in waves—sharp and clean, scented faintly with pine and salt.

Darkness wrapped around them like velvet, pierced only by stars and a pale moon hanging low and glassy-eyed above the cliffs.

Waiting silently were strange carriages—sleek and black as obsidian. Each was hitched to a winged, horse-like beast with gaunt flanks, curling horns, and eyes that glowed faintly violet. Their leathery wings shifted with a whisper, stirring up the scent of damp moss and river stones.

The students hesitated.

"They look like they've crawled out of an underworld tale," someone muttered.

"What do you think they are?" Aurora whispered, brow furrowed.

Annie leaned closer to James, her voice low but calm. "They're called Krelmares. My brother saw them once on a battlefield. They only appear when something is changing—crossing seasons, borders... or fates."

James stiffened. There was something ancient in the creatures' stillness, as if they belonged to a world just adjacent to this one.

Then, one of the beasts lifted its head and let out a silent scream—no sound, but the windows of the ship behind them rattled faintly.

No one said another word. They boarded the carriages.

After several minutes, a castle emerged—a towering silhouette wrapped in glowing blue wards that flickered like captured lightning. As they neared, the path lit itself with clusters of pale flowers that pulsed gently under the moonlight.

"Beautiful," Annie whispered, her breath fogging in the cold.

"Luna Flowers," James murmured. "They only bloom at night. My uncle says their pollen keeps away spirits that whisper."

The carriages came to a halt at tall iron gates.

"Out, out, children! The Assembly Chamber awaits!" came a smooth, warm voice.

Professor Henry Gray stood waiting, dressed sharply in a tailored three-piece suit beneath deep violet robes. His brown curls caught the moonlight, and the grin at the corner of his mouth made more than one girl near the front straighten their collars.

"First-years, line up! Ladies on the left, gentlemen on the right. No dawdling—we don't want the statues growing impatient."

James fell into place, stomach fluttering with nerves. The heavy oak doors groaned open before them.

The Assembly Chamber was immense—vaulted, majestic, and full of candlelight. Four long tables stretched across the room, each carved from enchanted wood that shimmered faintly in different hues. Floating above each table were glowing clan sigils, slowly rotating: the Raven of Pelgrin, the hawk of Valkyrie, the stag of Stag, and the Roaring Griffin of Griffin.

Hundreds of lanterns hung suspended high above like stars caught in slow orbit.

At the front stood a polished stone platform. Twelve professors sat behind it in a semicircle, eyes sharp and observant.

Returning students were already seated. First-years hovered near the doors, tension buzzing in the air like static.

Then came the voice—calm, authoritative, unwavering.

"Welcome to another year at Doddington."

A small woman stepped forward. Short brown hair. Clean lines. Robes of midnight sky. Her belt bore sigils in the old tongue.

"I am Veronica Vane, Headmistress of this institution," she said. "Here we cultivate the finest minds in service of the Sovereign Council and the wards that protect our realm."

She paused, her gaze sweeping the room.

"This year, as every year, we remember those who have passed from these halls… and we welcome those newly arrived."

She took a breath.

"Discipline. Loyalty. Nobility. Leadership. These are the four stones upon which we are built. Etch them into your hearts."

Another pause. The air itself seemed to still.

"And now—the Choosing Ceremony."

Professor Gray stepped forward, eyes glinting with excitement. "When I call your name, approach the platform. Bow before the Founders. The one who bows back claims you."

He flicked his wrist, and the floor shifted. The stone platform sank, replaced by four statues rising from beneath—lifelike and grand.

"These are the Founders of Doddington," he said. "Each a soul of unmatched legacy."

He gestured to each.

"Lady Sybil Pelgrin—ambition and brilliance.Sir Thomas Valkyrie—nobility and courage.Sir Robiolas Stag—compassion and steadfastness.

And Merlin Griffin—twilight hero of the old void."

Students were called one by one. They approached, bowed, and were claimed. With each match, cheers erupted from the appropriate table.

James stood frozen. His palms damp. His mouth dry.

His family belonged to Pelgrin. It was expected. Predetermined.

But he thought only of the friends he'd made on the ship.

"Aurora Wilde," Gray called.

She bowed. Griffin bowed back. Applause.

"Fredric Paddlewood." Also Griffin.

Then Annie stepped forward. Whispers followed her.

"She's from that family," someone murmured.

She bowed deeply. Moments later, Pelgrin bowed back.

James's face was riddled with confusion. People seemed to know Annie's family, but he had no clue.

He then swallowed hard.

One name left.

"James Arcturus."

It echoed like thunder.

He stepped forward, every muscle tight. Eyes followed him. He bowed.

Nothing.

Not a flicker.

The silence stretched.

With each heartbeat, James felt that a minute had passed.

Then—a smile flickered across Gray's lips.

All four statues bowed.

Gasps rippled across the room.

Then three rose.

Only Lady Sybil remained bowed.

James backed away, eyes wide, pulse roaring in his ears.

"Come back here, boy!" Gray called, voice far too amused.

James stopped, cheeks burning. Whispers filled the chamber.

"Did they all bow?"

"Is that even possible?""Who is he?"

"Enough," Headmistress Vane said, her voice a silver blade.

"A magical anomaly. Nothing more."

Her gaze met James's. Calm. Calculated. Curious.

"He will join Pelgrin, as tradition dictates."

A few claps followed as James returned to the Pelgrin table.

The ceremony moved on, but James was far away—still reliving the moment.

A boy caught his eye across the room. Pale skin. Silver hair combed tight. Two guards at his back.

"That's Lucas Cox," a girl beside him whispered.

James's stomach turned. Lawick's son.

When the last student was sorted, Headmistress Vane raised her Sig.She flared it almost like a music conductor.

"Let the banquet begin."

With a shimmer, the tables filled with roast meats, braided breads, honey-glazed roots, grilled river trout, and silver pitchers of iced fruit nectar.

James sat beside Annie, hands still slightly shaking.

A third-year boy slid into the seat across from him—blond, ruddy-cheeked, easy smile.

"Mind if I join?" he asked, already helping himself to potatoes.

James shook his head.

"Quite the entrance you made," the boy said with a grin. "I mean—four statues? First time I've ever seen Professor Vane blink."

James gave a weak chuckle. "Yeah, I... don't know what that was."

"Well, good luck living that down."

The boy left with a wink and a slice of pie.

Desserts arrived—spiced custards, cloudberry tarts, ice-glazed cakes that whispered tiny lullabies as they were sliced.

Headmistress Vane rose once more.

Headmistress Vane rose once more.

"Final announcements," she called. "Professor Henry Gray will instruct in Defensive Casting and serve as Valkyrie Clan Guardian. Charles Bach will lead Griffin. Bella Rose, Valkyrie. Your robes and trunks have been delivered. Classes begin at dawn."

Teachers rose. Students followed.

James and Annie climbed the winding staircases to the Pelgrin wing.

At the end of the corridor stood a stone tree with a Raven perched on its limb. Its eyes flickered green.

"I am the dark that shines brighter than day," the Raven whispered.

Its wings opened. The wall dissolved into mist.

They stepped through.

The common room glowed with green firelight. Boys and girls split off toward their dorms.

James entered his room—four beds, green curtains, moonlight pouring in through a tall window.

His trunk rested by the foot of the bed closest to the glass.

He'd be sharing with Johnny Black, Remus Pendragon, and Naftali Alli—a quiet boy with ink-black hair and round spectacles that glinted faintly.

James collapsed onto his bed, every muscle sore.

Family names. Old statues. Impossible magic.

But beneath the confusion and fear, something else burned.

Hope.

The boys were already talking—loud, excited.

"Lief was fencing against three people mid-air—while riding a Pegasus. I swear!""You're cracked. No one survives that kind of stunt."

Laughter erupted.

James closed his eyes.

Tomorrow, it would all begin.

But tonight, sleep took him—soft and strange and full of starlight