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.Zane's Point Of View The silence that followed her question didn’t last long. Because from behind her, a sharper voice sliced through the hallway like a dagger cloaked in silk.“Move, Celeste. I want to see him myself.” The students behind Celeste parted like water. And through that space walked her.She didn’t walk, she glided. Like the hallway was a red carpet made just for her, and the rest of us were weeds daring to grow in her garden.Alisa.Long platinum hair that shimmered like moonlight laced with gold. Blood-red robes tailored tighter than arrogance itself. Her eyes were icy blue and sharper than any blade. Her presence crackled with magical energy, so thick I could feel it press against my skin.Charlie shifted beside me, and muttered under his breath, “Shit. It’s Alisa.”“Who?” I whispered, jaw tight.“She’s… how do I put this lightly, an entitled, magical psycho with a superiority complex. Comes from the Delacroix bloodline. That family’s so powerful, even some professors
Zane's Point Of ViewI must’ve been wearing the dumbest expression on my face, because Charlie blinked at me like I’d just grown a second head.“You… you really didn’t know?” he asked, flopping back onto my bed like this was somehow his tragedy to suffer. “Bro, it’s the Freshman Ball. It’s huge. Professors go. Alumni go. Important people. Potential sponsors. Some people even leave with a future fiancé if they play their cards right.”I just stared at him.He lifted his hands, eyebrows up like come on. “It’s like a party, but you get judged the whole time. Kind of like a tournament but with better food. The upperclassmen scope out the new kids. Professors give secret recommendations. Some of the big-name guild recruiters show up pretending to be ‘guests.’ And… if you’re smart…” His grin sharpened. “You can make connections. Or enemies. Or lovers.”His gaze flicked to me deliberately. “Especially someone like you.”I stiffened at that.I didn’t want to be someone like me. I didn’t want
Zane's Point Of View I stood between them like a thread about to snap, stretched so tightly I thought my bones might break just from breathing.On one side: Ronan. Power coiled beneath his stillness, golden eyes hard as metal, sharp jaw clenched like he wanted to grind the whole damn world into dust.On the other side: Miles. Relaxed, leaning slightly toward me, fingertips brushing my sleeve in a way that looked casual, but wasn’t. The tension wasn’t just thick, it was suffocating. And everyone was watching.I felt like I was standing on the edge of a blade. Choose wrong, and I wouldn’t just fall, I’d be cut to pieces on the way down.I swallowed hard, throat dry. The whole courtyard was holding its breath, waiting.Waiting for me.“Zane,” Ronan finally spoke, his voice rougher than usual, low like a growl dragged from deep in his chest. “You don’t belong with them. You know that.”With them.My pulse jumped.Them.Humans. Half-bloods. The “weaker” academy. The outcasts. I was an ou
Zane's Point Of View Silence.The kind of silence that doesn’t just sit in the air, it presses against your chest, makes your throat dry, makes every heartbeat feel like it’s echoing too loud in the back of your ears.I stood in the center of the ceremonial circle, alone, small, a speck of broken bones and old bruises against the towering marble of the academy’s ancient halls.Nothing.Absolutely nothing.The ceremonial stone beneath my boots pulsed faintly with magic, ancient, cold, impersonal, but nothing happened.Nothing.My breath stuttered, panic rising sharp and fast in my throat. My heart beat too loud, too quick, and for one sick moment, I thought I might collapse again.Behind me, I heard the soft snickers starting. Low at first. Then louder. Cruel.“Pathetic,” someone muttered.I could feel their eyes eating into my back.“Guess second time’s not the charm.”“Mixed-blood trash.”I swallowed hard, throat raw.Of course. Of course this was happening. Why the hell did I think
Zane's Point Of View “Zane?”Miles leaned forward sharply, concern flashing across his face. “What’s wrong? Are you in pain again?”I stared at him, eyes wide, chest rising and falling with sharp, panicked breaths. “No… I mean… yes… no… it’s not that… I…”I gripped the sheets, my fingers trembling violently, and forced the words out before I lost my nerve.“I heard something,” I gasped. “A voice.”Miles blinked. “A voice?”“My wolf.” The words spilled out, shaky but real. “I-I think… I actually summoned it.”For a moment, he just stared, processing.And then without hesitation, he smiled. Not that usual sharp, knowing smirk he wore like armor, but something softer. Warmer. Real.“That’s…” His voice broke, and he shook his head slightly, like he couldn’t believe it either. “That’s incredible.”And before I could think, before I could stop him, he reached out and hugged me.I froze, stunned, caught between the unfamiliar weight of his arms around me and the realization that no one… no
Zane's Point Of View Pain shot through me first.Not the sharp, clean kind of pain. Not the kind that warned of danger and then retreated. This was different. This was tearing. Like I was being shredded from the inside out. Like my bones didn’t fit right beneath my skin anymore.I gasped, collapsing forward, reaching blindly for him.“Ronan…” My voice broke, cracked apart like glass underfoot, “please…” But Ronan shoved me back as if I’d burned him.As if I was the mistake.As if he hadn’t been the one to taste my blood, kiss me like he wanted to devour every piece of me.He didn’t even look at me.Just turned. Shoulders stiff. Jaw tight. Golden eyes burning with everything he refused to say, and then he was walking away.Gone.Abandoning me again.My hands clenched at the air like maybe, if I reached far enough, I could stop him. Hold him. Beg. But even through the blinding pain, pride still burned in my chest like a second heartbeat.I wouldn’t crawl after him.But God, I wanted to