Chapter Four

Layla woke up the next day feeling refreshed. She hadn't slept like that in quite some time. Her dreams hadn't been as calm as they had been either until last night.

She no longer dreamed of the home that she had grown up in burning to cinders anymore. Instead, she dreamed of the rusty wolf and its golden lava eyes. She now seemed to wonder to herself if they truly were golden. She couldn't tell because they burned so intensely. She began to wake herself up and threw on her clothes for today's classes.

She knew that she would be learning about mythology here. Quite a lot actually. The entire school was based on Greek studies. She looked forward to learning more about the gods and the other initiates. She knew that once she knew more about the gods that things would begin to click better for her.

She grabbed her bag that she had packed the night before after her shower and dinner. She had to wash off again after the electrifying and tingling sensation in her body wouldn't calm down.

She noticed that her candles in her room seemed to bend toward her whenever she walked near them. But she pocketed that information and acted as though it never happened. Not wanting to confirm what she had done at the feast.

She had snacks and a mini fridge in her room so she grabbed a yogurt and dashed out of her door with keys and bag in hand. She had planned to avoid breakfast this morning, but she would go to the dining hall for lunch and dinner tonight.

She walked outside the building and had to shield her eyes due to the blinding brightness outside. She had to let her eyes adjust for a minute or two before removing her hand from her eyes.

The morning light over Elysium Academy was too bright—sharp, almost alive. It bled through the arched windows of the Hall of Elements, turning the runes carved into the stone desks into veins of gold.

Layla hesitated at the threshold. The hall hummed faintly with magic and whispers. Her name floated between rows like smoke. Like a misting vapor around her.

“That’s her—the fire girl.”

“Heard she burned through a containment ward.”

“No one survives that kind of surge. Unless she’s—”

She kept her chin up and stepped inside. Perse had told her that this would likely happen. She just had to bear with it for the next couple of weeks.

Perse caught her eye from the back row, mouthing “You’ve got this.”

It was the only kindness in a sea of scrutiny.

Layla slid into the nearest empty seat—right between Theo and Damon- the two boys that she had taken notice of last night at dinner.

She blushed as her seat scooted loudly across the floor as she moved it to sit.

Theo gave her a small, reassuring smile. “Morning.” His voice was warm, steady. Lightning in human form—controlled, bright, dangerous in all the right ways.

“Morning,” she replied quickly. She took a glance at him and noticed him. Really noticed him.

Theo had storm-gray eyes, dark hair that looked tousled, and slept in. A lean build with subtle muscle. He smelled faintly of rain.

She quickly grabbed her notebook and a pen and set them in front of her. Scooting her chair in.

Damon, lounging on her other side, didn’t look up from twirling his pen. “Didn’t expect you to survive breakfast, little flame,” he murmured. “Guess miracles happen.”

Layla exhaled sharply. “I skipped, couldn't have any more people gawking at me all morning before class,” she said as she turned toward Damon.

Damon had bronze skin, gold eyes that seemed to glow faintly in low light, dark wavy hair, and always wore a slight smirk. Something about him reminded her of the wolf in a way. She quickly looked away, waiting for their professor to appear.

Theo’s lips twitched like he was fighting a grin. Damon’s smirk deepened. The tension between them was practically its own form of energy—crackling, charged, and impossible to ignore.

Professor Vale strode in before Layla could retreat into herself fully, a long coat trailing shadows of spelllight. “Good morning, initiates. Today we begin practical channeling. Try not to set the room—or each other—on fire.”

A few students chuckled. Vale’s gaze flicked briefly to Layla. The laughter died.

“These iridecksmt pearls in front of you are for you to practice. Focus stones, is what we call them,” he instructed. “Draw your power through them and shape it. Control is the goal. Chaos,” he looked pointedly at her, “is failure.”

Layla swallowed, placing her hand over the cold pearlescent sphere before her. Power? What power? She didn't have any right. She was still just a human. But something in the back of her mind told her that maybe the last time she tried to use her power, it resulted in her home being blackened.

She took a shaky breath and grabbed the sphere. Not letting her thoughts deter her any longer.

Theo leaned closer, his voice low. “You’ve got this. Just breathe.”

Damon scoffed. “Or don’t. Maybe she’s prettier when she glows.”

She shot him a glare, but something in his tone—half mockery, half fascination—made her pulse skip.

“Begin,” Vale ordered.

Magic flickered around the room: sparks, wind, shimmering threads of water. Layla felt her heartbeat align with the hum of energy in the air. She reached for it—just a whisper at first.

“Daughter” the atmosphere seemed to call to her.

The sphere pulsed.

The runes on her desk ignited.

Theo’s hand brushed her arm. “Steady—”

But it was too late. The energy flooded through her veins like starlight turned liquid. Images flared behind her eyes—wolves made of constellations, a moon bleeding silver, and a woman’s voice whispering, Daughter of the stars… awaken.

A rush of power tore free. Light exploded from the desk, scattering the class in a chorus of gasps. The sphere cracked down the middle, and from its core burst a silver wolf—ethereal, luminous, and very much alive.

“Contain it!” Vale shouted.

Theo leaped to his feet, lightning arcing between his palms. Damon raised a shadow ward, dark energy curling around his fingers. Together they worked to contain her raw and unfiltered power.

For one dizzying moment, Layla saw the two of them standing on either side of her—light and darkness circling like rival storms.

“Layla!” Theo’s voice was raw with strain. “Call it back!”

She reached out. The wolf turned to her, eyes the color of moonlight on water. Then it lunged—not at her, but through her—and vanished in a shimmer of silver.

The air stilled. Every student stared.

Layla's bones cooled and a shiver ran through her.

Vale’s expression was carved from stone. “Miss Demetriou. The Headmistress will see you. Now.”

Layla rose on trembling legs, ignoring the whispers, the fear. Her sleeve hiked up as she gathered her things, throwing her bag over her shoulder—and Theo’s eyes widened.

“Your wrist,” he breathed.

A faint silver crescent shimmered against her skin, glowing softly. Damon caught sight of it too, his jaw tightening.

“Interesting,” he murmured. “The wolf leaves its mark.”

Layla tugged her sleeve down quickly. “It’s nothing.”

She didn't know why she felt as though she had been caught. She continued to collect her things.

“Sure it is,” Damon said quietly, his gaze lingering. “Everything about you screams something.”

Theo stepped closer, protective. “Back off, Hades Jr.”

Damon’s grin was pure challenge. “Make me, Thunder Boy.”

“Enough,” Layla snapped, her voice carrying a strange, unearthly echo. The air trembled—both boys froze.

For a heartbeat, the power was hers again. Wild. Thrumming. Hungry.

Then it was gone, leaving only silence and the faint scent of ozone.

She turned and walked out before either could speak, the silver crescent burning beneath her sleeve like a promise—or a warning.