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