Genesis

Life at Solus Institute? It could've been a good one, sure. That is, if you were born there, if the sterile, regulated halls were all you’d ever known. But for me? Yeah, that’s where it got a little iffy. My life before Solus was a real one, a good one. Heck, a great one. I had a mom, a whole crew of friends, and yeah, even love. The kind of messy, complicated, wonderful love that doesn’t always fit into neat little boxes. Solus Institute was just a fancy way of saying "orphanage for supernatural kids." A home for children who lost all family, who were just alone in the world. It’s got that official, clinical vibe, you know? Every morning, the same routine. A disembodied voice crackles through the intercom at 6 AM sharp, dragging us from whatever fragile dreams we managed to cling to. Make our beds, shower, get dressed. Precision is key. By 6:45 AM, we’re lined up for inspection, uniforms crisp, hair neatly combed. A watchful eye scans for any deviation, any rumple in the fabric of c

I stared at the woman across the desk, the one who just dropped a bombshell that vibrated through my bones. Tilly St’Clair. The woman I’d heard so much about, the one who raised my mother, the very same woman my mom said would be devastated when she disappeared. My mind whirled. How did she find me? How did she even know to look? A complex knot of doubt and fascination twisted in my gut. Her deep green irises, the exact shade of emeralds, were shining, glistening with unshed tears. Her lips quivered slightly, a subtle tremor as she fought to keep her emotions locked down. I tore my gaze from her, turning back to Headmaster Winthrop, a thousand questions screaming in my head. Questions I doubted he, in his tweed jacket and prim demeanor, had the answers to. “How—,” I started, my voice cracking, a dry rasp in my throat. I cleared it, forcing the words out again, clearer this time. “How did you find me?” It was the easiest question, the most immediate, the one that felt safest to ask r

I outstretched my hand, a formal gesture, a relic of Institute manners. But Joseph just looked at it, then at me, a soft, amused smile playing on his lips before he pulled me into a warm, engulfing hug. It seems my mother wasn’t lying when she said her dad never missed an opportunity to show affection. His embrace was firm, comforting, smelling faintly of something woody and clean. Slowly, almost tentatively, I brought my arms around his waist, burying my face against his broad chest. The sheer physicality of it, the simple human contact, was overwhelming. It had been so long, years, since I'd had any physical contact with anyone besides Farrah. I couldn't help it when my eyes began to water, a warmth spreading through me that had nothing to do with the midday sun, and a quiet sniffle escaped me.

They all burst out laughing. Like, full-on, hugging their stomachs, knee-slapping laughter that echoed in the grand office. It took a moment for my grandmother to notice that I wasn't joining in, but instead stood there, dead serious, a cold dread twisting in my gut. Her laughter tapered off, and then, mercifully, so did my grandfather's. It took Farrah another minute, her face still bright red from mirth, to realize that no one else was laughing. She straightened, looking at all our faces, her smile faltering, then disappearing entirely as she saw the grim set of my mouth. "What do you mean you're a wolf, sweetheart?" my grandmother asked, her voice tinged with genuine confu

It didn't take very long for guests to start arriving, a steady stream of impeccably dressed individuals flowing into the mansion. I guessed the elite liked to be punctually on time, a subtle display of their organized lives. I hadn't gone to greet them as Grandad had requested. When the first set of names were announced by Francois, the stern-faced butler who, despite his formal demeanor, miraculously ensured the pantry was always stocked with the illicit snacks Farrah and I liked to sneak at night, I had completely clammed up, freezing on the spot. My carefully constructed composure crumbled, and a wave of stage fright paralyzed me. Luckily, Grandma and Grandad had just made it downstairs, their arrival a timely rescue. Catching sight of my rigid posture, they had mercifully told us we could go straight into the ballroom, sparing me from the awkward introductions. Walking through the colossal, intricately carved double doors of the ballroom, I was instantly taken aback. I knew Gran