Chapter 1

The dorm room smelled of burnt toast and desperation, a fitting perfume for three college girls teetering on the edge of midterm collapse. Maren Holloway, self-proclaimed queen of chaos and unofficial keeper of the group’s sanity, stood on her tiptoes atop a wobbly desk chair, wielding a butter knife like a medieval knight’s dagger. She was determined to pry open the mysterious panel in the wall of their ancient, creaky dormitory at St. Elspeth’s College. The building, a gothic monstrosity of crumbling brick and whispered ghost stories, had housed generations of students, and apparently, secrets.

“Guys, I’m telling you, there’s something behind here,” Maren declared, her dark curls bouncing with each jab at the loose plaster. Her hazel eyes glinted with the kind of mischief that had gotten them all into trouble more times than they could count—like the infamous glitter bomb incident in the chem lab last semester. “I heard it last night. Scratching. Like a raccoon or a cursed spirit or, I don’t know, buried treasure!”

From the sagging futon across the room, Lila Nguyen rolled her eyes over the rim of her oversized tortoiseshell glasses. Her laptop balanced precariously on her lap, half-finished econ notes glowing accusingly on the screen. “Maren, the only thing behind that wall is probably asbestos or a family of rats. Can you not turn our dorm into a biohazard zone? I have a test in six hours.”

“Live a little, Lila,” Maren shot back, grinning. “What’s college without a little danger?”

On the other side of the room, sprawled across her bed with a romance novel in one hand and a bag of sour gummy worms in the other, Sasha Bennett let out a dramatic sigh. Her platinum blonde hair spilled over the pillow like a halo, though her personality was anything but angelic. “If you unleash some ancient evil and I have to spend my weekend exorcising demons instead of flirting with that hot TA in lit class, I’m never forgiving you, Maren.”

Maren snorted, but her focus didn’t waver. With a final, triumphant grunt, the panel gave way, revealing a hollow space within the wall. Dust cascaded down in a gray curtain, and the girls coughed in unison, waving their hands like they could banish the musty air. But when the haze cleared, Maren’s jaw dropped. Nestled in the alcove, bound in cracked leather the color of dried blood, was a book. Not just any book—it was massive, its cover etched with swirling runes that seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light of their string fairy lights.

“Holy hell,” Maren breathed, reaching in to pull it out. The weight of it nearly toppled her off the chair, but she clutched it to her chest like a newborn. “Ladies, we’ve just struck gold. Or, like, cursed gold. But still gold!”

Lila shoved her laptop aside and scrambled over, her curiosity finally outweighing her caution. Sasha tossed her novel and candy aside, crawling across the bed to join them. The three hovered over the book as Maren set it on the desk, the air thick with a mix of awe and trepidation. Up close, the runes pulsed, almost as if they were breathing. A faint warmth radiated from the leather, and when Maren brushed her fingers over the cover, a shiver raced up her spine—not entirely unpleasant, but definitely weird.

“There’s no title,” Lila noted, her analytical brain kicking in. She pushed her glasses up her nose, squinting at the symbols. “These look… old. Like, pre-Latin old. Maybe Sumerian? I saw something like this in an anthropology elective last year.”

“Great, so it’s a cursed textbook,” Sasha drawled, but her blue eyes were wide with fascination. She leaned closer, her shoulder brushing Maren’s, and the scent of her vanilla body spray mingled with the book’s ancient, earthy musk. “Open it. I dare you.”

Maren didn’t need much encouragement. With a theatrical flourish, she flipped the cover open. The pages were yellowed, brittle, and covered in spidery handwriting that looked like it had been scrawled in ink—or something darker. A faint hum vibrated through the room, and the fairy lights flickered. The first page bore a single phrase in English, stark against the sea of incomprehensible script: *Speak the Words, Pay the Price.*

“Okay, that’s not ominous at all,” Lila muttered, but her voice lacked conviction. She was as hooked as the rest of them.

Maren flipped through a few more pages, revealing diagrams of circles and sigils, lists of ingredients like “eye of newt” and “heart’s blood,” and spells with titles like “Summon Familiar” and “Bend Time’s Thread.” Each spell came with a footnote, small and sinister: a warning of cost. Memories. Years. Pieces of the self.

“This is insane,” Sasha said, her usual sarcasm replaced by a rare, genuine thrill. “What if it’s real? What if we could, like, hex Professor Grindle into giving us all A’s? Or make that creep from the frat house forget he ever saw me at that party last week?”

Maren’s grin was wicked. “Only one way to find out.” She stopped on a page labeled “Glimmer of Desire,” a spell promising to reveal one’s deepest want in a vision. The cost? A single cherished memory. “This one seems harmless enough. Just a memory. I’ve got plenty of embarrassing ones to spare.”

Lila hesitated, chewing her lip. “We don’t even know if this works. What if it’s a prank? Or worse, what if it does work, and we mess something up we can’t fix?”

But Maren was already tracing the incantation with her finger, the strange syllables rolling off her tongue with an eerie ease. Sasha joined in, her voice low and teasing, egging Maren on. Even Lila, after a moment of resistance, muttered the words under her breath, as if compelled by some unseen force. The air grew heavy, electric, and the runes on the page flared a deep, crimson red.

A pulse of energy surged through the room, knocking over a half-empty coffee mug and sending papers fluttering to the floor. The girls stumbled back, hearts pounding, as a shimmering haze formed above the book. It coalesced into a mirror-like surface, reflecting not their faces, but fleeting, fragmented images—flashes of longing so raw and intimate that Maren’s breath caught. She saw herself on a stage, spotlight blazing, applause thundering. Sasha’s reflection showed a shadowy figure, hands intertwined with hers, a whispered promise on their lips. Lila’s vision was quieter—a library of endless shelves, a place of perfect solitude and knowledge.

And then, just as quickly, the haze dissolved. The room fell silent, save for their ragged breathing. Maren laughed, shaky but exhilarated. “Did you see that? It worked! We’re witches or something!”

But Lila’s face was pale, her hands trembling as she touched her temple. “I… I can’t remember my mom’s lullaby. The one she used to sing when I was scared. It’s gone. Just… blank.”

Sasha frowned, her usual bravado faltering. “I forgot the day I got my first guitar. I can still play, but the memory—it’s like a hole in my head.”

Maren felt it too, a hollow ache where something precious once lived. Her first kiss, clumsy and sweet under the bleachers at a high school game, had vanished as if it had never happened. The price had been paid.

Before they could process the weight of what they’d done, the book snapped shut on its own with a thunderous crack. The runes on the cover glowed brighter, almost mocking, and a whisper curled through the room, soft and insidious: *More. There is always more.*

The girls exchanged a look, a mix of fear and undeniable hunger. They’d tasted magic, felt its pulse in their veins. And now, whether they wanted to or not, they were bound to the grimoire’s whims.