The Golden Lycans (Ella) novel Chapter 1

My dad's Tesla turns smoothly off the motorway, our surroundings quickly becoming more rural. Open fields, trees upon trees and neat hedges become a pleasant green blur outside my window. It feels like we are going too fast. The roads are so narrow in comparison to the roads I am used to, with more hills and blind corners than I can comfortably believe.

Lucky for me, these are roads my dad once knew well, leaving me in only mild peril.

Another sharp turn reveals another expanse of rolling green hills and acres of trees under the sunny September sky.

It is stunning.

This is definitely the most green I've seen in years, and something in me is brightening more and more as we near our destination.

So.

Before I go any further, I should probably introduce myself, because these roads we are driving down are unwittingly leading me to a world I could never have imagined, and a future I would never have believed.

My name is Eliana Reva, but I much prefer to be called Ella. Eliana sounds too close to being a character from a Lord of the Rings book, and regardless of my love for those books, I am not an elven princess. Perhaps the hair... But ultimately, the name feels too grand for me.

As Ella, I tend to fly under the radar more, and as a walking textbook definition of an introvert, that's all I've ever really wanted when I've been at school.

For years, I have attended boarding schools in London, where I currently reside with my parents. My parents mainly work in the city, but as human rights lawyers, their jobs take them to every corner of the globe.

When I was much younger, we used to live in a small village in the county of Hampshire along the south coast of England - the county we are currently speeding through.

It wasn't long before my parents relocated us to London because of their careers. London has been an incredible place to live and I am very fond of it. A teenager could never be bored in London, as there is always something to do.

But as I got older, it felt more and more like something was missing. I felt off balance, like I wasn't where I was supposed to be. I felt unsettled.

Truly, it was hard to put the feeling into words.

Somehow, during the last year, I have grown tired of the hustle and bustle of the city, the noise, the endless pavements and the daily chaos of the London Underground.

I want to be somewhere more rural.

Scratch that, I needed to be somewhere more rural; I felt like I was being called back to where I was born.

I began to feel suffocated in the city and, after a few candid conversations with my parents, I made the decision to return to my home county in the countryside.

It started to consume me. I just kept dreaming of green fields, lush grass, huge willow trees, plumes of purple flowers and all sorts of wildlife.

It was time to say goodbye to London and experience something different; during term time, at least.

My parents were more than happy for me to make the change, because my happiness is of great importance to them — the perk of being an only child.

I looked at numerous boarding schools, but one school kept snagging my attention and drawing me back to it.

Exton College.

I kept coming back to its navy and gold website, featuring an assortment of various beautiful people on its front page just like the other schools did.

But the people on the front page of theirs looked alive in a way no others did.

Happy.

Engaged.

Like they were finding their purpose and who they were going to be.

I wanted to be one of those happy people.

Their marketing has done its job, because that is exactly where we are headed right now.

In addition to the wildly happy, beautiful people, it has an excellent reputation for sciences, and that is important to someone who wants to study medicine after sixth form has ended.

I have always valued life and I want to make a difference to others with mine. I work hard and have excellent grades — though this has been very counterproductive to my flimsy attempts at having a social life.

I had maybe one actual friend at my old school and we haven't even kept in touch during the summer.

All in all, I am nervous but ultimately excited to start fresh somewhere else.

A clean slate.

Not that clean is anything I need. I led a fairly boring life at my last school.

Apparently, the days of me having a boring life have abruptly run out, because this isn't a boring story, not by a long shot.

If anything, the next two weeks — and certainly the next six months — well... there is no way I could have predicted anything that lies ahead for me as I innocently sit in the passenger seat of my dad's car.

"Two minutes away, sweetheart," Dad says quietly, checking the sat nav on the dashboard.

With a deep breath, I sit up a little more in my seat.

Anticipation is definitely setting in as my dad turns the car through a large and imposing set of wrought-iron gates. Beyond them is a long driveway lined with immaculate poplar trees.

Even the driveway here has managed to look posh.

I vaguely remember the photos of the school on the website, but it looks more impressive in person. The school looks very well maintained, to say the least.

We slowly pass a large navy-coloured sign which reads 'Welcome to Exton College'; its ivy and wolf's head emblem shines in gold.

'Headmaster: Orion Landry' it says in a smaller font underneath.

I remember the brief about the school that the headmaster had written for the school's website, and I recall the photo of him. He had given me serious Dumbledore vibes, but I couldn't decide if it was the foot-long white beard he had or his kind, startling green eyes. I could almost imagine the wisdom behind them as he smiled from the About Us section of the website.

He looked too old to be running a school, yet somehow exactly old enough. I couldn't argue that he looked like what I'd expect from the headmaster of a very distinguished boarding school.

Dad pulls the car into an unmarked parking spot in a large gravelled visitor car park.

"Well, Els, this is it," he says, letting out a long whistle as he cranes his neck to look through the windscreen. The vast building rises tall and magnificent in front of us.

"This looks radically different to my last school, that's for sure," I comment quietly.

My last school could only have been described as a grey concrete box. The only source of life had been one solitary yew tree in the main courtyard, adorned with decades' worth of carvings from students who had come and gone.

I get out of the car, keen to stretch my legs after the long journey. I hold my hand up to shield my eyes as I fully take in the building before me.

A grand, red-and-beige-brick building stands before us. It has four main turrets around the front section, and the tall Georgian windows make it look very distinguished.

A large set of thick oak doors sits proudly in the middle of the main building, flanked by pure white marble pillars. Ivy has snaked its way up the walls all around the building and around the large arched windows in particular, which adds to the grand mystique of the place.

Back in London, my schools were in a variety of different buildings separated by entire roads, and nothing living snaked its way up the walls.

Dad opens the boot of the car and pulls out my large suitcase while I fumble around in my satchel for the bundle of paperwork I had been sent.

We ascend the steps and enter the school through the large oak doors, finding ourselves in a grand atrium.

I gasp. I wish I hadn't, but it's happened.

It is huge and the décor is decadent. It reminds me of the entrances they have in the swankier hotels back in London.

There is a grand staircase at the back, and a thick navy-coloured carpet snakes all the way up the stairs to the first and second floors.

The flooring of the atrium is highly polished light hardwood that leads to Baroque-style walls.

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