Warborn Academy shifted like a wounded beast. You could feel it in the stone.
The tension was no longer just between students, witches, and werewolves eyeing each other like rival wolves circling the same carcass. Now, something darker was moving beneath the surface.
They knew.
Not everything. Not yet. But they knew enough.
It started with glances. Then whispers. Then the disappearances.
One by one, students who had spoken to Lucian—or worse, been seen near me—were pulled into “private instruction” and came back pale, shaken, mute. The instructors, especially the High Priestess Morganna, moved like hawks over us, too interested, too still.
And Kael?
Kael stopped pretending he wasn’t watching us.
He assigned Lucian and me to separate drills, opposite ends of the field. I was paired with advanced spellcasters twice my size, forced to fight blindfolded, pushed until I bled. Lucian, I could feel through the bond, but was given no breaks either. I could taste iron every time he was hit. My
