I look through letter after letter. All rejections. Yale, Harvard, Oxford, all of them. I toss away the rejections and see only one remaining letter. The envelope is as black as the darkness behind the stars. On it is my name in a glowing red cursive script.
Faintly, charcoal coloured smoke wafts off of the envelope. Hoping, I rip open the envelope and look down at the letter. It’s once again black with glowing red letters. I read it.
We would like to cordially invite you to attend my Academy for Hadean Youth. If you do not wish to attend, however, do not reply to this letter.
I am the principal for the Academy. At my school you will be able to receive a doctorate in less time than a bachelor’s degree. I strive for successful education at my school and insist the all students be ready to learn.
However, as all school do, the Academy has its quirks. You make recognise the word Hadean. The word Hadean quite literally means relating to that of Hades, the God of the Dead in Greek mythology. All students are born because of one thing: they are Cursed by Hell, or the Underworld as I call it. You are one of those students. This also means that all students have a certain power; some are umbrakinetic, some pyrokinetic. I myself are part of the 0.1% Cursed with the power of telepathy.
If you choose not to accept your admittance to the Academy, then a few alterations can be made so you get into your dream college.
A few of my employees have been watching you for quite sometime. Though we do not know what power you have been Cursed with, your dark red-black eyes do tell us that you are Cursed by a powerful being of the Underworld.
If you wish to accept your admittance, write ‘yes, please and thank you’ on the bottom of this document. I do hope to see you at the Academy on the first day of the new semester.
Doctor Azazel Inferna III.
This is my last chance, even if half of what is written in this letter is bullshit. I grab a pen and write the five words at the bottom below Doctor Inferna’s name. I toss it aside and sigh before climbing into bed.
The next morning I see a different black envelope on my desk. How...?
I rip it open and see the same black paper with red script.
I thank you for accepting the letter to come attend the Academy. The new semester begins on September first, 2023. I do say that as it is a boarding school you are allowed to bring as many personal items and clothes from home as you would like. Uniforms are optional at the Academy--very few students actually choose to wear the uniform.
You need not for devices, except for your phone and its necessities, or textbooks. All are supplied by the Academy. To be taken to the Academy, on September First whisper these words to yourself:
I look forward to seeing you first day of school.
Doctor Azazel Inferna III.
This is starting to seem less and less like a prank...
I grip my suitcase and duffel bag and look down at the sentence written on the sticky notes. Slowly and quietly, I say those words aloud.
“Vivamus moriendum est,” I whisper.
Darkest swirls around me and my heart is banging against the inside of my chest. The darkest clears and in front of me is a man in his twenties. His raven black hair is long and neatly tied back in a low ponytail. His skin is whiter than snow with a jagged black scar over half of his face. He’s dressed in a neat three piece all black suit, hands in pockets. His eyes, however, stand out. His eyes are the same colour as mine.
“Welcome to the Academy of Hadean Youth, Kasdeya. I am Doctor Inferna. I do believe it is time you had the tour?” He asks in a flawless French accent.
I furrow my brows. He looks barely older than me. How is the principal of this school with a PhD?
“You’re younger than I though you’d look. You look like four, five maybe, years older than me,” He says.
He chuckles, a deep, dark sound. “I get that quite often, Kasdeya. How old did you think me?”
He smiles at me, perfect and a bright while grin. “Oh, but I am much older than fifty, Kasdeya .” I gulp. “Doctor Inferna is just a disguise. Azazel, however, is not. You see, Kasdeya, I am the Prince of Hell, Azazel.”
“But I will not hurt you, no. I swore I would never let a demon, myself included, harm a hair on the head of any of my students,” He states.
“So if you’re a demon Prince of Hell, then do you know who Cursed me?” I ask quietly.
“Why, of course I know the mother who Cursed her daughter.” I look up at him, confused.
“My mother died during childbirth. She was just plain old human. She isn’t a demon and she wasn’t the one who Cursed me,” I state.
He chuckles again and chills rush down my spine. “Oh, if only you knew. She didn’t die. Tell me, what is your middle name?”
I roll my eyes, getting annoyed. “Lilith?”
“Lilith is the mother who cursed her child. Your mother, Kasdeya,” He says. I gulp. “Therefore making you a Princess of Hell. But let us keep that between us, okay?”
