The journey

Lyra’s POV

Pulling away from Aurelia, we gradually started driving down the five-mile driveway that led to the main road. It had once been beautifully paved, smooth and free of bumps, potholes, or sinkholes, providing a seamless surface for travel.

But, like anything, add a bit of neglect and a century-long conflict could cause it to fade, warp, and develop cracks.

Clutching the manila envelope tightly in my hand, I was intensely curious to see what kind of normalcy Commander Rourke and the council had arranged for Rowan and me.

Ensuring that Rowan and I were prepared, the Commander nodded once, signaling us to open the envelopes.

Inside my envelope were several pages, which, at a quick glance, looked remarkably like school transfer documents, although every detail seemed carefully crafted.

I pulled out the first document, which resembled a birth certificate—my name with a slight variation of my last name, my current address, and my parents' names. Attached to that same document was a glossy photo of me that I didn’t remember ever taking. I looked happy, innocent, and definitely not the type to belong to an elite assassin training program.

Sighing sarcastically, I said, “I know this is only going to keep getting better!”

The Commander rolled his eyes and said, “Turn to the next page."

Following his instructions, we both flipped to the next sheet, which contained our trade school transcripts—official records showing our grades, courses completed, and skill assessments. This paperwork was designed to facilitate our “successful” transfer into the Alpha Academy through the human exchange program.

The human exchange program had been running for the past five years, deliberately designed to prepare humans for integration into the academy. Each year, three to five human students attended Alpha Academy for one year, masquerading as trade school trainees, with the goal of cultivating future leaders.

Interestingly, we were technically the first humans officially involved in the leadership track. Unlike previous students, whose focus was mainly on becoming educators or medical specialists working across species, we were here to lead.

I personally didn't see them as a dumb species, but I wondered how many leaders or cross-species medical workers did they think we needed from our species.

In Aurelia, we trained our own educators and medical practitioners, while werewolves only sought out our specially curated medications when injuries were too severe or wounds were too complex for their natural healing. Cross-species medical workers from other species rarely allowed us work in their packs—usually out of fear that we would attack them with silver blades in their sleep, which, to be honest, might not be unfounded.

The next few pages contained details about housing arrangements, meal plans, class schedules, and a paper with the name of a spy already in place, in case sensitive information needed to be passed on.

We quickly memorized the spy's name and contact details, then tore up the paper and dissolved it in a cup of water to eliminate any traces that could compromise us before the mission even began.

According to the files, my name was:

Lyra Smith

DOB: December 1, 2007

Occupation: Leadership Student

Allergies: None

Honestly, I wasn’t sure whether pretending to be weak during their grueling physical education classes— which doubled as training— or feigning enthusiasm for leadership courses, which is where we planned to intercept and befriend the heirs, would be more challenging.

Rowan and the Commander talked in the background, their voices blending into the scenery, but I had tuned them and everything else out long time ago, staring out the small window of the armored vehicle and watching the landscape pass by in a blur.

We had left about an hour ago after turning onto the better-maintained public roads, which were controlled by whichever werewolf faction held that territory. They had the resources and spared no expense to ensure their beloved pack—whether traveling by vehicle or paw—could move comfortably and safely.

We still had several hours of travel ahead unless complications arose, and for everyone’s sake, I hoped none would.

As I began to drift off, I caught the familiar scent of cigar smoke wafting through the armored car's air, mingled with the sharp, woody aroma of whiskey. Against all odds, that oddly comforting scent reminded me of home.

Just before I completely nodded off, I felt a warm, strong hand close over mine, offering a reassurance I didn't realize I needed.