ALPHA ACADEMY:MARKED BY FOUR

The summons came before dawn.

A sealed letter, silver wax stamped with the crest of the Council, slid under Lyra’s door with the faintest scrape. Her stomach twisted the moment she saw it.

“Candidate Lyra Hawthorne — First Evaluation: Training Hall. Instructor: Cassian Drax.”

Her hands shook around the page. Of all the Alphas to start with, it had to be him.

By the time she reached the hall, the sky outside had barely begun to pale. Candles burned along the walls, their light throwing sharp, restless shadows across the stone floor. Cassian stood at the center of the room, golden hair tousled, sleeves rolled, his smile pure mischief.

“Well, if it isn’t our newest mystery,” he said, his voice echoing. “Ready for your big debut?”

Lyra crossed her arms, forcing herself to sound steady. “Is that what this is? An evaluation or a show?”

He grinned wider. “Why not both?”

Cassian paced slowly around her, the sound of his boots low and deliberate. “The Council wants to see how well you can control your little talent,” he said. “Me? I just want to see what happens when you stop pretending you don’t have one.”

Her pulse quickened. “You mean when I lose control.”

“Semantics,” he said lightly, tossing a wooden staff from hand to hand. “All you have to do is trust me.”

“That doesn’t sound like a test.”

He winked. “Oh, it’s the most important kind.”

Before she could respond, Cassian swung the staff toward her. The motion was fast—too fast—but not cruel. It was a taunt, a challenge. She ducked, barely missing the sweep, and glared at him.

“Lesson one,” he said. “Instinct doesn’t wait for permission.”

He attacked again, forcing her to block, her breath catching with every movement. His strikes were measured but unpredictable—each one designed to push her further, to make her forget her fear.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he teased, circling. “I’ve seen kittens fight harder than this.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Make me.”

Something hot and electric shot through her chest.

The mark on her palms burned faintly, heat threading under her skin.

Cassian smirked. “There she is.”

He dropped the staff, stepping closer. “Let’s change the rules.”

“This isn’t a game, Cassian.”

“It is if you stop taking it so seriously.” His voice dropped, teasing but softer now, the humor in it edged with something else. “Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Do it. Trust me.”

Lyra hesitated, then obeyed. The room around her seemed to hum—the faint rustle of his movements, the heartbeat of the torches. She could feel him step closer, his energy pulling at her like gravity.

“Now,” he whispered, “find me without looking.”

She reached out with her senses, the mark thrumming beneath her skin. The air shimmered faintly. Then she felt him—his warmth, the quick beat of his pulse, the heat of his breath.

She turned sharply, hand outstretched—and power surged.

The mark ignited, glowing bright silver-red. The pulse between them synchronized in a single, deafening beat. Cassian gasped, stumbling back as the light spilled outward, surrounding them both in a shimmering haze.

***

Lyra’s eyes flew open. The world around them seemed to bend—sound fading, color deepening, as if the air itself held its breath.

“Lyra,” Cassian rasped, his voice strained. “You need to—”

“I can’t—”

The mark flared again, stronger this time. The energy leapt from her skin to his chest, a glowing thread connecting them. Cassian’s body trembled; his heartbeat matched hers perfectly, two rhythms locked together.

The air crackled. Sparks danced across the floor. Lyra’s vision swam.

Cassian reached for her, his touch grounding and desperate. “Look at me. Breathe. You’re okay—”

But she wasn’t. The light surged, wild and bright, throwing them apart in a shockwave that rattled the torches and sent dust raining from the rafters.

When the glow finally dimmed, Lyra was on her knees, chest heaving. Cassian crouched a few feet away, his shirt scorched where the energy had hit. He was pale, eyes wide—not in fear, but wonder.

“What was that?” she whispered.

Cassian’s lips curved faintly. “That,” he said softly, “was a heartbeat.”

Before she could speak, another voice cut through the silence.

“You call that control?”

They both froze.

Malachai stepped from the shadows near the archway, his white-blond hair catching the torchlight, eyes sharp and cold as ice.

He’d been there the entire time. Watching.

Cassian’s jaw tightened. “Enjoying the show, Frost?”

“Hardly.” Malachai’s gaze swept the scorch marks on the floor, then settled on Lyra. “That wasn’t control. That was a resonance.”

Lyra frowned. “A what?”

Malachai stepped closer, his presence shifting the air.

“Two forces of power aligning under pressure.”

Dangerous. Unstable. Especially when one doesn’t understand what she’s wielding.”

Cassian snorted. “Relax. I had it handled.”

Malachai’s expression didn’t change. “You were seconds away from being burned alive.”

Cassian’s grin faltered. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Am I?” Malachai’s gaze flicked briefly to Lyra. “Her mark responded to you. It shouldn’t do that. Not unless…”

He trailed off.

Lyra’s pulse stumbled. “Unless what?”

“Unless it recognizes something in you,” Malachai said quietly.

The silence stretched, thick with meaning neither of them wanted to name. Cassian’s smile returned, slower now, edged with unease.

“Well, sweetheart,” he said, voice rougher than before, “looks like I’m irresistible on a whole new level.”

Malachai ignored him. “You need to report this,” he said to her.

“To the Council?”

“To Vale,” Malachai replied. “He’ll know what it means—or he’ll pretend he doesn’t.”

He turned to leave, pausing just before the door. The flicker of torchlight caught his profile, all sharp lines and hidden thoughts.

“Lyra,” he said without looking back. “Next time, when it starts to burn—don’t fight it. Listen.”

Then he disappeared into the corridor, his footsteps fading into silence.

Lyra stared at the doorway long after he was gone, her hands still glowing faintly, heart still echoing Cassian’s pulse.

Cassian rose, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well,” he said finally, trying for levity and failing, “I think we just broke a few physics laws.”

Lyra’s voice came out a whisper. “And maybe a few rules of nature.”

Cassian gave a lopsided grin, though the look in his eyes was anything but casual. “Guess that makes us even more interesting.”

But when he turned away, Lyra caught the tremor in his hands—the kind that didn’t come from fear, but from something far more dangerous.

She pressed her palms together, trying to quiet the mark’s restless hum, but it pulsed once more—soft, alive, almost answering to someone else’s heartbeat.

And somewhere down the hall, Malachai paused, eyes closing briefly as if he could feel it too.

“It’s starting,” he whispered.