Zane's Point Of View
“Where the hell am I…?” The words left my mouth before my eyes even opened. My voice sounded strange… oo smooth, too calm, like it didn’t belong to someone who had been beaten within an inch of death. I bolted upright with a gasp, cold sweat slicking my body as my chest rose and fell in heavy, panicked breaths. But something was wrong. There was no pain. No bruises. No blood. No broken ribs. My body… violated, stomped on, nearly left for dead, felt untouched. Healed. Whole. I wiggled my fingers, flexed my toes. Everything moved. Everything worked. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. I blinked and looked around, heart hammering like a prisoner banging on steel bars. The room was... breathtaking. Polished marble floors stretched out beneath a ceiling painted like the night sky, stars glittering as if they were alive. Silk curtains swayed with a breeze I couldn’t feel. Warm firelight danced from a golden hearth, flickering over the emerald-green wallpaper and casting shadows across fine oak furniture. It was the kind of room reserved for royalty. Not someone like me. Not a bullied omega. Not the pack’s shame. I glanced down at myself. I was no longer in my bloodied clothes. A soft tunic of black and silver clung to my body, comfortable, almost enchanted in its warmth. My hands trembled as I slowly reached for the bag on the bed beside me. It was there. The pocket watch. Exactly where I’d last held it. Untouched. Still ticking softly like it always had. My hand trembled as I picked it up. I pressed it to my chest, eyes welling with tears. “Father… what is this?” The door creaked. I flinched, my grip tightening instinctively. The memory of fists, of laughter as blood ran down my lip, made my breath catch. But instead of pain, a voice spoke. “I see you’re awake. That’s good. The others were beginning to wonder if you'd ever come around.” I turned sharply. A man… no, something more than a man, stood in the doorway. He had a presence that made the room shrink. His long, indigo robe shimmered with moving patterns… runes, glyphs, alive and glowing across the fabric. His eyes were violet, too bright, too deep, and his silver-streaked hair fell to his shoulders like threads of moonlight. “Who are you?” I asked, barely able to speak. He smiled slightly. “I’m Professor Rhyel. A teacher from the School of Ardent Magic.” I stared at him. “Magic… school?” He stepped inside, his every movement silent, like he wasn’t touching the floor at all. “Yes. You activated a keepsake. That light you saw was its magic responding to your despair. It brought you here… a transfer station for all chosen candidates.” “Chosen?” I echoed, stunned. “I didn’t choose anything.” “You didn’t have to,” Rhyel said gently, walking to the foot of the bed. “The magic chose you.” “I don’t understand,” I said slowly, gripping the sheets like they might anchor me. “The last thing I remember, they… they tried to kill me.” “And they would have succeeded,” Rhyel interrupted gently, “if the keepsake you carried hadn’t activated.” My breath hitched. “…Keepsake?” He nodded toward the pocket watch still clutched in my hand. “That object,” he said, “was embedded with an ancient sigil of blood and light, crafted by a powerful spellcaster, likely your mother. When your body reached the brink of death, the watch sensed the critical danger. It triggered an emergency transfer.” “To here?” “This station is known as the Vestibule. A midpoint between the mortal realm and the Ardent Institute,” Rhyel explained. “All Chosen arrive here once their keepsakes activate. It’s designed to heal you, prepare you, and assess your magical compatibility.” I stared at him in disbelief. “So… I’m not dead?” “You are very much alive,” he said, lips quirking. “Though not the same boy who was left bleeding in the dirt.” I couldn’t breathe for a moment. I looked at my hands. At my unmarred skin. At the room around me. “How is this even real?” I whispered. Rhyel tilted his head. “It’s not. Not entirely. This space exists between worlds, where magic bends the rules. Think of it as a veil, a cocoon. Tomorrow, you and the others will be transported to the Institute to begin your awakening.” “Others?” “Yes,” he answered. I took out the pocket watch. It felt heavier than usual, like the truth now weighed it down. I turned it over slowly, fingers brushing the old silver casing, tracing the tiny engraved markings I had always assumed were nothing more than decoration. I had stared at this thing a thousand times as a kid. Father said it was my mother’s. He never told me it was more than a keepsake. He never said it could save my life. He never said it would pull me into a world I didn’t know existed. He never said anything about her death, either, only that it was “an accident.” A phrase he always muttered through clenched teeth, with eyes that never quite met mine. And I had believed him, because I was young. Because I needed to believe something. But now… Now that story was falling apart, like a poorly built wall finally crumbling. “My mom died,” I said, voice flat. “And no one told me why. No one told me how.” “I’ll go,” I said quietly. Rhyel smiled. But before he could speak again, I raised my head. “But I’m not just going there to learn magic,” I added, voice stronger this time. “I want to uncover the truth about my parents… and everything they hid from me.” He studied me for a long second. Then that knowing smile returned, edged with something that felt… ancient. “Then you’ll fit in quite well,” he murmured. “Most of our students are running from something.” Running, I thought bitterly. No. I wasn’t running anymore. I was chasing. Chasing the truth. I looked back down at the watch. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. ********** “I still can’t believe this is real,” I muttered to myself, eyes wide as our group ascended the marble steps. The morning sun bathed the world in gold. Everything shimmered. We walked through a courtyard so vast it could swallow my old village three times over. Floating lanterns hovered in the air, each bearing the crest of the Ardent Flame, an ancient symbol that pulsed faintly with magical heat. A soft breeze swept through the cherry-blossom trees lining the path, their petals glowing faintly like living sparks. Around me, there were dozens of us… young men and women, all chosen by keepsakes, their eyes flicking between excitement, fear, and awe. Some chatted in hushed tones, others walked in stiff silence. We were heading to the Temple of Ignis, the sacred hall where the first magical awakening happened centuries ago. Today, it was where we’d be tested. Where our fate would be decided. Professor Rhyel led the way, his robe gliding across the stone with quiet authority. The other instructors followed behind, all cloaked in mystery, their gazes unreadable. I clutched my mother’s pocket watch tightly in my fist. It hummed softly against my palm. Somehow, it gave me courage. Even when my legs trembled. We reached a massive obsidian archway carved with golden runes, and the Temple came into view. I stopped. My breath left my body. It was a masterpiece of magic and architecture. Spires floated in the air, linked by bridges of glowing energy. At its center, a towering dome pulsed with a radiant flame contained in glass, a living fire, flickering as if it had a soul. The entire temple breathed magic. It tasted like ozone in the air, like lightning barely held in a cage. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t blink. Couldn’t think. So I didn’t notice the boy in front of me slowing down. Until I walked right into him. “Oof…!” He spun around with a snarl. “Watch it, mutt.” My eyes met his. He was tall, lean, with sandy blond hair and piercing green eyes that glowed faintly with wolf aura. His build was sharp, athletic, the kind of power that didn’t have to shout to be noticed. He wore a cloak with the crest of the Silvertooth Pack, a notorious warrior clan from the Western territories. And from the look on his face, he recognized me. “You’re him,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “…Me?” He stepped closer, his nostrils flaring. “The half-blood. The one who activated that relic and took my friend’s spot.” I frowned. “I didn’t take anything. I was brought here.” He scoffed. “Don’t play dumb. You think they let anyone in? The number of students who can enter through the heirloom gate is limited. Once it’s full, everyone else gets locked out until next year.” I swallowed. So it was true. My arrival… had shut someone else out. “I didn’t know,” I said quietly. “But everyone deserves a chance…” “Don’t give me that heroic underdog crap,” he snapped. “You shouldn’t even be here. Half-human filth, dragging the name of werewolves through the mud.” My hands clenched at my sides. “The awakening hasn’t even happened yet. You don’t know what I’m capable of.” “Oh, I know exactly what you’re capable of.” He grabbed my collar so fast I didn’t have time to react. And then… CRACK. His fist connected with my jaw. Pain exploded through my head. I stumbled back, stars bursting behind my eyes, but I didn’t fall. I wiped the blood from my lip and looked up. “You done?” I hissed, voice shaking. He sneered. “Not even close.” He lunged forward and rammed his shoulder into me, slamming me against one of the pillars. The breath flew from my lungs. I tried to fight back, threw a punch, weak and wild, but he caught it midair and twisted my arm behind my back with a brutal snap. “Aww, poor mutt trying to act tough,” he whispered near my ear. “Do you know how many real werewolves are dying to be here? And yet they let you in.” With one hand still gripping my wrist, he slammed a fist into my gut. Once. Twice. Three times. My knees buckled. I tasted bile. I collapsed to the stone path, clutching my side, gasping. The others were watching. Most did nothing. A few turned away. Cowards. He stepped in front of me, towering. A shadow blocking out the sun. “You’re nothing,” he snarled. “You’re weak. Broken. You should’ve died in that forest.” He knows… And this bastard blamed me for surviving. He raised his foot, ready to kick me in the ribs. “You don’t belong here. And I’m going to make sure you leave broken.” I closed my eyes. And then… BOOM. A pulse of pure energy erupted around me. Blinding light. Runes igniting. A crackling, burning sound like fire tearing through glass. A magic circle flared beneath me… intricate, ancient, blazing gold. Symbols I didn’t understand rotated in perfect harmony. The air grew thick, humming with power. The boy screamed as his foot met the edge of the circle, and was repelled by a force so strong he was thrown back ten feet, crashing into the wall with a grunt. Gasps echoed around us. Instructors rushed forward. But all I could do was stare as the magic circle around me pulsed brighter and brighter, a dome forming from its core, sheer energy shielding me like a living thing.Caroline's Point Of View The world was wrong.Not at first. At first it was just the sound of running feet and shouting… normal chaos, a memory. I was back there. The street, the dusk, the smell of rain and iron. And then the smell deepened, became blood, and the cobblestones were slick beneath my boots.I knew this place. Every inch of it. I’d walked it a hundred times in my nightmares.And there he was.My cousin.He lay crumpled where I’d left him, his shirt torn open, crimson blooming through the pale cloth. His eyes fluttered as his hand twitched, reaching for me, slick with blood. His lips moved. He was calling my name. I could hear it as clear as the day it happened, only worse, echoing, distorting, making my stomach twist.“No,” I whispered, stumbling forward. My knees were jelly. My chest clenched so hard it hurt to breathe. “No, no, no…”I knelt beside him, but my hands shook so badly I couldn’t press them over the wound. The blood was warm, sticky, sliding between my finge
Zane's Point Of View“I…” My head rose, eyes burning, throat raw. “Am not…”I stood. Fully. Shaking, bloody, trembling like a newborn deer, but upright.“YOURS…” My voice rose, breaking into a snarl, echoing against the darkness.“To break!!!”The shout tore out of me, guttural and hoarse, ripping up through my chest like a blade. It shook the illusions; shadows recoiled, whispers shrieked, faces blurred.I stood there, fists clenched, blood dripping, chest heaving, my whole body trembling, but upright.And for the first time since it began, the darkness wasn’t pressing down. It was backing away.Their faces wouldn’t leave me… Ash, his smile warped into something cruel, jagged. Ronan, eyes flat, mouth curled in that silent rejection I’d never been able to shake. And Miles… Miles’ face dripping red, twisted with something halfway between sorrow and mockery.They hovered there in the shifting dark, shadows dripping from them like tar, laughter echoing… thin, sharp, gnawing at my ears. I
Zane's Point Of ViewThe darkness didn’t stay empty. It only bled into shape. Into something worse.I staggered, clutching my chest, blood still warm on my tongue. My knees buckled, but I forced myself up… only for the world to shift again.And then I saw him.Miles.He was on the ground, his uniform torn open, a jagged wound splitting through his chest. The blood… gods, there was so much blood, spread across the white stone beneath him, bright and merciless. His fingers twitched, shaking, smeared red as they reached for me.“Zane…” His voice broke on my name. Fragile. Fading.My stomach lurched. No. No, not this.I stumbled forward, hands out, desperate to catch his before it fell limp. “No… no, don’t… Miles, don’t you dare.”He coughed, blood flecking his lips, eyes fluttering shut. “You… should’ve been stronger.”The words ripped through me sharper than any blade.“No, please, stop,” I begged, knees cracking against the stone as I dropped down beside him. My hands pressed against h
Zane's Point Of View The corridor swallowed us whole.Stone stretched on forever, walls damp and breathing cold against the skin, every step echoing back like the place wanted to remind us just how small we were. The torches burned weakly, smoke curling like fingers reaching for our throats. Nobody spoke at first. Not out of respect. Out of fear.The instructors marched at the front, their cloaks whispering against the floor, staffs clicking with every measured step. We followed like sheep into the slaughterhouse, though some of us pretended not to notice. Some smirked, some straightened their spines, some shifted nervously like their boots had grown thorns.I just kept walking. Heart hammering, but chin high. If I let it show, if I let one crack slip, Alisa would drink it like wine and Mark would wear it like a crown.The corridor spat us out into a vast chamber.And gods… It was like stepping into the belly of something alive.The walls were carved stone, yes, but every inch of the
Zane's Point Of ViewThe crowd swelled with noise, feeding on itself, laughter echoing against the high walls, bouncing back until it felt like the entire building was alive, laughing at me, mocking me. My steps sounded too loud against the floor, every footfall like a drumbeat announcing the half-blood freak who didn’t belong here.“Look at his face… like he’s about to cry.”“Does he ever do anything right?”“Bet he won’t last another trial.”“Pathetic. Always dragging behind.”Their voices snapped and cut, some low, some shouted, all of them digging into me like claws. I kept walking. One step, then another. My pulse pounded in my ears, hot, relentless. My throat was thick, like I’d swallowed ash.Fenric growled again, sharper this time. “You let them laugh. You let them spit on you. Weak. Let me out… I’ll rip the sound from their throats.”“No.” My jaw locked. I didn’t move my lips, didn’t dare give them more reason to point and laugh.And then… voice cut through the noise. Quiet.
Zane's Point Of View “Do it first,” I said, my voice low, rough, leaving no room for argument. “Then we’ll talk.” And I didn’t wait for his answer. I wrenched the door open and stepped out before he could reach for me again. The hallway outside felt colder, like the air itself was punishing me for leaving warmth behind. My legs protested with every movement. My thighs, my back, hell, even my shoulders… they all throbbed, raw reminders of the night I’d surrendered to him. Each step stretched skin too sensitive, muscles too overused. It felt like I was carrying his fingerprints under my skin, burning from the inside out. I told myself I hated it. That I hated him for doing this to me. That I hated myself more for letting it happen. It meant nothing, I said in my head, firm, like spitting nails. But Fenric, my wolf, didn’t buy it. His growl tore through the back of my mind, deep, stubborn, full of defiance. ‘Nothing? You call that nothing? You gave yourself to him, and he gave hims