Page 27 of Marked By His Hunger
They were relieved.
Thrilled, even.
“Asgarheim Runevald Institute,” Aunt Gabby had said, beaming as she read the embossed heading aloud. “An elite international graduate program, Serena. Do you know what this means?”
I did.
Just not in the way she thought.
The scholarship sealed it for them.
Prestige. Opportunity. Distance.
A fresh start—for all of us.
They never questioned it.
Never asked why a program like that would want someone like me.
They didn’t look too closely.
They didn’t want to.
But I did.
Because the welcome packet I received separately—the one that didn’t come through the regular mail, the one that appeared where no one else could see it—that one told the truth.
Runevald wasn’t a normal graduate school.
It wasn’t even close.
It was a place where the impossible wasn’t dismissed.
It was studied.
Refined.
Mastered.
Magic.
Witches.
Monsters.
And others.
The words should have terrified me.
Instead, they felt like… recognition.
Like someone, somewhere, had finally looked at me and seen what I actually was—not what they needed me to be to feel comfortable.
A Necromancer.
The word had settled into me with quiet certainty.
Not a diagnosis.
