Written on ice chapter one!

Prologue

Shadow rink

The midnight challenge.

The Midnight Challenge wasn’t listed on any schedule. It wasn’t acknowledged by any coach. It was never spoken of in daylight.

And yet, it existed.

It was a secret tournament passed down through whispers and bloodlines. Reserved for first-year students and invitation only.

The Challenge took place once every five years. Long enough for students to graduate, and for people to forget.

But it was never really about the skating.

It was a performance for the powerful. A way for the elite to watch from the shadows and decide who was worthy of legacy—and who wasn’t.

No coaches, no fans. Only the elite, the legacies, and those powerful and rich enough to place their bets from the shadows.

Win, and you would be rewarded. 

Lose, and you might disappear.

Because the people betting didn’t care who skated best.

They cared who survived.

And who followed the rules.

The rules were simple. And cruel.

Fall three times, you were out. 

Get injured, the match ended—and sometimes your future with it. 

Each challenge consisted of three nights.

Two qualifying matches. 

One final round. 

Then, one night, everything went terribly wrong.

They tried to bury the truth.

And called it an accident.

But secrets don’t die. 

Not here. 

Not with me.

There are truths frozen within my walls. 

And skeletons buried beneath my ice.

But some secrets don’t stay buried forever.

Chapter one

Luna

Have you ever wanted something so badly it hurts? And no, I don’t mean ice cream, or concert tickets, although I’ve never been to a concert. The kind of want that turns into need, and consumes your entire existence. You feel it in your chest, your throat, your bones, terrified that it’ll slip through your fingers. That’s what Valcérre is for me.

All I want is to show them I belong here.

“You okay?” Sophie asks from beside me.

I nod automatically, but I’m not. My chest is too tight, like someone is sitting on it, pressing all the air out of me. I haven’t been able to breathe properly since we landed at that private airport thirty minutes ago. Because this is it. Valcérre has the best figure skating program in the world. I’m talking Olympic-level good. It’s everything I’ve dreamed of since I was eight years old. Now that I’m here, I think I’m gonna throw up, because I can’t fuck this up.

I stare out the window, hoping the view will help ease some of the pressure, but it hasn’t. The trees are covered with snow. The sky’s that pale, silver-gray that makes everything feel melancholy, as if the whole world is holding its breath. Technically, it’s fall, but Valcérre has one season. Winter.

Most people would hate that. My sister Rylee does. Even though we grew up in the northern U.S., she lives in Paris now. She’s always hated the cold. The only reason she ever survived winter was because she was looking forward to spring and summer. Take that away? It’d kill her.

She said I’m crazy for choosing to go to school in a place where it’s below fifty degrees all year long. I don’t blame her, according to Sophie, the sun never shows its face around here. But unlike my sister, I don’t mind the cold. At least I know what to expect.

Rylee still wanted to come, but I convinced her not to. She’d just complain about how cold it is the whole time. Besides, I needed to do this without her. She’s been taking care of me since she was barely old enough to take care of herself.

 I lean my forehead against the cold window, watching the glass mist beneath my breath. I press my fingers against it and trace the letters L U N A. Luna. I love my name. It’s the one thing my mother got right. We might love a sunny day, but we all need the moon to light up our darkest nights.

“If anyone asks, you’re my sister, okay?” Sophie’s voice cuts through my thoughts again. “Because you are.”

I glance over to catch her smile.

Sophie is my sister’s husband Luc’s little sister. He’s the reason I’m here. She’s also the first real friend I made after moving to Paris. She might look like she stepped out of a luxury fashion ad, but she’s never made me feel like I didn’t belong. We stayed close even after she left for school at Valcérre. She’s a sophomore now.

I rest my head on her shoulder just for a second. Then the car jerks, and we slide sideways toward the edge of the road. 

“Merde!” the driver curses under his breath, pulling the wheel right in time as we come to a stop.

A deer freezes in the middle of the road, wide-eyed in the headlights. I swear it’s staring straight at me, as if we understand each other. Two creatures out of place and trying to survive. Then it runs away, disappearing into the trees.

“Apologies, mademoiselles,” the driver says, glancing at us in the rearview mirror. “Are you both all right?”

“We’re good,” Sophie says, completely unfazed. Then she turns to me. “You okay?”

I nod, even though my heart’s still in my throat. “Yeah, just wasn’t expecting that.”

She chuckles as the car resumes down the snowy road. That’s when I see it. A black iron gate, barely visible through the mist. The closer we get, the clearer it becomes. On top, it says Salvete ad Universitatem Valcérre (Welcome to Valcérre University) in curly metal letters. 

This is it.

“Welcome to your new home,” Sophie says.

Home?

Home has never been a place for me. It’s a feeling. The sound of my sister’s voice on the phone. The sharp bite of cold air before a performance. The silence before my skate blades touch the ice.

The gate opens, and the fog thickens as the car drives deeper into campus. Dark stone walls cut through the haze, their spires vanishing into the clouds. I press my palms against my thighs, but my knees won’t stop bouncing.

“Nervous?” Sophie watches me with a little scrunch between her brows.

“No,” I say a little too quickly. Why would I be? It’s not like this is one of the most elite schools in the world. The place looks like a fucking palace, and I’m just the girl who grew up in a two bedroom apartment with leaky ceiling. So I’m totally not nervous. I don’t even know what nervous is. Never met her.

“Excited then?” She nudges me with her knee. Excited to make a fool of myself? Sure. Pretty sure I’m wearing a sign on my forehead that says, she totally doesn’t belong here.

“I don’t know yet.” 

“It’s okay to feel both.” She reaches for my hand and gives it a little squeeze.

We pass the main courtyard toward the dormitories. In the distance, the main building rises from the mist. I’ve never seen anything like this in real life. It’s massive, like an old palace, but also modern. Arched windows reflect the dim light, and dark stone walls stand against the rain-slicked courtyard.

“That’s Ravensbourne Hall.” Sophie nods toward the first dormitory ahead. If you can call it a dorm. It’s more like a gothic castle.

It sits at the highest point of the campus, overlooking everything else. Its black stone exterior is carved in intricate designs, with massive, arched glass windows.

“The legacies live there. Kids of the founders, hockey stars, Olympians.” She leans back on her seat casually. “They don’t just belong here. They own this place.”

“Figures.” I swallow, and my finger tightens around the sleeve of my coat. The car moves forward, curving around the lake. The water is calm and dark, swallowing the faint campus light. I wish I felt that calm, but inside me is like a storm.

Then a new building appears from the fog.

“And that’s Wolfswood Hall.” Sophie tips her chin toward the building with the polished stone pillars lining the entrance, where a valet in a black uniform holds the door open for a student dragging her luggage behind her.

“The elites stay here. Rich international kids, trust fund babies, children of politicians, movie stars.” She smirks and nudges my knee again. “And us.”

I’m staying here. 

Except I don’t fit in any of those categories.

The car stops, and the valet opens the door for Sophie, who steps out like she owns the place.

“Thank you,” she says, fixing her coat.

I take a deep breath and force my legs to move. The moment I step out, the cold air slams into me, and my lungs welcome it.

My eyes drift toward another building, half hidden in the fog, at the farthest edge of campus. 

“And that’s Halloway Hall,” Sophie says, following my gaze. “That’s where the scholarship kids stay.”

It doesn’t look as luxurious as the other dorms.

I should be staying there. I applied for the scholarship, but I didn’t get it. I’m here not because I earned it, but because Luc could afford it. 

“Come on.” Sophie slips her arm through mine, linking them together. “You belong here, with me.”

I let her lead me inside, because if I don’t, I might turn around, get back in the car, and fly back to Paris. Then what? It’s not like I belong there either. That’s Rylee’s world, not mine.

Welcome to Wolfswood Hall.

We walk through the arched double door, and the smell hits me first. Vanilla, amber, fresh rain, and perfection.

Inside the lobby, students are talking in different languages, French, Russian, Spanish, Korean, and some I don’t even recognize. Everything about them screams wealth.

A dark-brown desk stands in the center under the golden chandelier that probably costs a fortune, enough to buy a house with a backyard. Behind it, a woman sits with her black hair tied in a sleek, low ponytail. 

She doesn’t ask for a name; if you belong here, they already know who you are.

A towering arched window in the back reveals the courtyard at the nearby lake, and the snowy mountains in the distance. A grand fireplace carved from dark stone sits on the far side of the wall. Across from it is the lounge area with dark leather couches, wooden coffee tables, and deep-burgundy rugs. 

“Hey, Sophie, welcome back.” A student smirks at her.

Sophie flips her hair with a lazy smile. “Miss me?”

“Not in the slightest.” She laughs, shaking her head.

We step toward the desk, and I fight the urge to fidget. Instead, I shove my hand into the pocket of my coat, nails digging into my palm. 

The lady hands Sophie her key card. “Welcome back, Miss Kingley.”

Next, she hands me my key card as she studies me for a second. “Welcome to Valcérre, Miss Del Sol.”

“Thanks.” I smile at her, but her expression remains neutral. 

I follow Sophie to the two staircases. She takes the one on the right, which I’m guessing leads to the girls’ side of the dorms.

The stairs are crowded with students heading to their rooms.

“Her sponsorship deal is insane…” another student is telling a group of friends. 

We stop in front of a door, and Sophie scans her key card before pushing it open. Inside, there’s a girl sitting on a long brown couch with two burgundy leather chairs on each side. Behind the couch, there’s a long bookshelf filled with leather-bound books. Across from them is an electric fireplace.

She looks up as the door closes behind us.

“Annika, this is my sister Luna.”

“Hi.” I smile at her.

She offers me a polite smile before returning to her phone. It’s nice seeing another black girl. She looks mixed. Warm brown skin, almond shaped eyes, and short, wavy black hair. I think she’s Blasian.

Sophie loops her arms around me again, leading me toward the hallway on the right with three identical doors. 

“This is yours.” She points at the door with my name on it. “This one is mine.” She nods toward the other door. “I’ll let you settle in, and then I’ll see you later.”

“Thank you.” My lips press into a small smile before I push open the door.

Inside, a bed sits against the wall, covered with deep-green wallpaper with gold filigree and ivy patterns. My eyes drift toward the gothic window with a view of the lake outside. I stand there, watching how the fog from the lake swallows the bridge that connects Wolfswood to Ravensbourne, before turning back to the bed.

My back hits the mattress, and I exhale through my nose, staring at the high ceilings with vaulted beams carved with intricate, twisting patterns. 

I don’t belong here. The only reason I’m here is because of Luc, but that doesn’t mean I can’t carve my own place.

I push myself off the bed and walk across the room to where my suitcases are set neatly beside the door. They must have brought them up while Sophie and I were checking in. I kneel on the floor, unzip my skating bag, and pull out my favorite pair of skates. The metal is cold and familiar against my skin as I drag my finger along the curve of the blades.

Whether I belong at this school or not, the ice will always be mine.