Gaia Rose의 작품

The morning sun has barely risen in full when a fist strikes the oak panels of my bedroom door.“Up, freshman! You have ten minutes to get your asset to the northern quadrant before Damon uses your spine as a measuring tape!” a voice bellows from the corridor, followed by the heavy, retreating thuds of regulation boots.I bolt upright so fast my neck protests, and for one deeply confusing second, I stare blankly at unfamiliar stone walls while panic rises into my bloodstream.Then the memory begins coming back to me… Exiled. Magic. Castle. Questionably legal blood oath. Death school.“Coming!” I yell, scrambling out of bed.My boots are somehow on opposite sides of the room, my sweater is halfway hanging off a chair, and my hair currently feels like it entered diplomatic negotiations sometime during the night. I throw on cargo pants, shove myself into a fitted charcoal sweater and aggressively finger-comb my curls into something vaguely human. I grab my jacket, nearly trip over my ow

“You,” I say faintly, pointing a shaky finger toward the stranger who not only saved me from falling off a cliff but also somehow knows my name, “are going to need to explain literally everything.”He guides me over to a flat, moss-covered boulder a few feet from the drop, and I drop onto it without a single word of protest and look up at him.“I’m Victor,” he says.“Leia,” I deadpan. “Apparently.”“I know.”“Yes, that’s actually the part terrifying me.” My hand instinctively wraps around the cold necklace resting at my throat. “How do you know my name?”The man offers a slow, entirely unbothered smile. “My name is Victor. And as for how I know you… let’s just say it’s my job to know the interesting ones. You’re eighteen years old. You’re a shifter who possesses absolutely no ability to shapeshift. You were publicly humiliated and rejected by the Silvercrest Pack exactly twenty-four hours ago, and right now, you’re running out of options.”I stiffen, my guard slamming instantly into p

The night is a chaotic blur of feverish, half-formed dreams that twist and turn through my mind like a knot of aggressive vines. Every time I close my eyes, I hear Freya’s voice.There’s an academy. It’s your last hope.When the grey morning light finally filters through my window, it brings zero relief, only the heavy, unmistakable reality of a relocation deadline. My suitcase is sitting open on the mattress while my family moves around my bedroom in a solemn, mechanical rhythm to help me fill it.“I still can’t believe he didn’t even have the decency to come down here himself,” Mom says as she folds a thick wool sweater and presses it into the luggage. “To send a low-level driver to wait at the edge of the property line while his own people are cast out. It’s cruel, Arthur. It’s entirely beneath the dignity of an Alpha.”“Traditions don’t care about our dignity, Mom,” I say, pulling the zippers shut on my backpack with a harsh, metallic snap. “Thorne is running a business, and I’m a

Our kitchen smells of roast chicken from yesterday, but today it has the distinct, heavy odor of a wake.I’m sitting at the island, tracing the wood with my thumb, while the three of them hover around me like a council of well-meaning ghosts. The bright, festive energy of Moonlit Square might as well be on another planet. Here, the silence is thick enough to choke on.My father is staring out the window, his jaw clenching so hard I can practically hear his teeth grinding. My mother is mechanically folding and unfolding a single dish towel over and over with red-rimmed eyes and tracking every breath I take.The sharp, demanding ring of the landline on the wall cuts through the tension and everyone flinches. For a second, no one moves, as if the plastic phone is a live explosive device.Mom swallows hard, wiping her cheek with the dish towel before stepping over to lift the receiver. “Thornwood residence.”She listens for a fraction of a second then her eyes dart toward me, filled with

The morning sun bounces off the melting winter ice with a blinding, joyful intensity that feels like a personal insult. It is officially Mating Day, and the entire Silvercrest village is acting as if we aren’t about to participate in a glorified, high-stakes cattle market. Children are racing through Moonlit Square laughing. Music is drifting faintly from somewhere near the eastern cottages. Couples are clinging to each other nervously while families gossip in tight circles.And I, personally, would rather launch myself into the ocean.“Stop looking like you’re walking toward your execution,” my sister, Freya, mutters beside me.Of course Freya sounds relaxed. She probably shifts in her sleep just to show off.I love my sister. I really do. But unfortunately, she was also handcrafted by the goddess specifically to make me feel like a potato. Freya Thornwood is petite with dark curls and blue eyes, Beta-ranked, gorgeous without trying, and terrifyingly competent. She’s the kind of wom