LUCIEN.The fire in the war room had long since burned down to embers, but I couldn’t sleep.Not with this disease creeping at the borders like a stormcloud.Not with Maya’s face burned into the backs of my eyes.I sat alone at my desk, the oak heavy with age and claw marks from a time before mine. Maps lay rolled up in the corner. Reports stacked neatly in one pile, messily in another. The quill in my hand hovered over the parchment, stilled by everything I hadn’t said yet.I hated letters.Not because I couldn’t write them. Because they made things real.Because once you inked truth into paper, it stopped being a theory—it became a declaration. A warning. A line in the sand.I dipped the quill and began:To the Esteemed Council of Moonridge Academy,Per my authority as Alpha of the Silverclaw Pack, I am formally reporting an emerging biological and magical threat known in recovered archives as The Gray Fever.Origin: Wolfborne in nature, mythic in lineage. Believed to have been erad
MAYA.Some things you can ignore.A strange dream. A flickering feeling. A coincidence that stings too deeply to be just that.But then there are truths that begin to take shape in the dark.And those things—those things won’t be ignored.It had been a few days since the training session with Lucien. And yet, I hadn’t stopped thinking about it. Not just the way we’d moved in sync—like our instincts were reading from the same script—but the way he’d looked at me after. Like he saw something blooming inside me before I could name it.Then he said the thing that wouldn’t stop echoing:Don’t trust everyone who says they want to protect you. Even me.And that terrified me. Not because I didn’t believe him.But because I think he meant it.Still… that wasn’t what had me sneaking through the eastern wing of the Academy, heart pounding in my ears, sweat beading across my palms.What haunted me more were the symbols still marked on my palm—fading now, yes, but not gone. The dreams that felt mo
LUCIEN.She moved like she belonged to something older. Something wild.And for one terrifying, unspoken moment, I moved with her like I belonged to it too.The training field had long emptied, but I still stood beneath the shadow of the obsidian towers that flanked the Moonridge courtyard, replaying our movements like a reel I couldn’t pause. Maya.It shouldn’t have happened like that.We weren’t supposed to click. We weren’t supposed to burn.But we had.Every motion, every step—it had been instinct. No hesitation. No calculation. Just connection.I hated how much I noticed it. The way her energy buzzed just beneath her skin. The sharp focus in her eyes. The way her hands had met mine with a kind of unspoken trust… like we’d done this before. In another life. Another war. Another fate.She had no idea what that session meant. But I did.Pairs don’t just sync like that without magic. Without bonding potential.And that terrified me.Which was why I said what I did.Don’t trust every
MAYA.By the time I returned to my room, my thoughts were a tangled mess of half-remembered dreams, torn pages, and that haunting sketch of the ruined hall. The Lunar-Borne.Even the name sent a shiver up my spine.I stared at the mark faintly glowing on my palm again, running a thumb over it as if I could rub the truth out of it—or into it.I knew I couldn’t keep this to myself much longer. The dreams. The symbols. The pull. Whatever this was, it was real, and it wasn’t going away.I thought about Professor Seryne. She’d noticed the mark immediately. But something in her eyes had said hide, not help.Lucien?No. He was... complicated.But Kaia?Kaia I could trust. Late Morning – Common RoomShe was sitting cross-legged on a windowsill, chewing the end of a pen and lazily sketching something on the back of a receipt. She looked up when I approached and raised an eyebrow.“You’ve got the I-just-discovered-a-deadly-secret look again.”I dropped a stack of copied pages onto the cushion
His grip was steady and cool—light enough to be polite, firm enough to be confident. His fingers brushed mine only briefly, but I could feel the quiet control in his movements. Everything about him felt… deliberate. Calculated. Like he weighed every action before it happened. He didn’t smile much, but when he did, it was the kind that made you second-guess whether it was genuine or part of some deeper game.Still, there was no alarm in my gut. No warning bell clanging in my chest.Just curiosity. “Nice to meet you,” he said, voice calm and unhurried. There was an oldness in it—not age, exactly, but patience.“You too.” I gave a nervous smile.“Maya,” I repeated, then blinked. “Right, I already said that.”His eyes flickered with amusement. “You did.”We stood in the narrow aisle surrounded by towering shelves of dust and silence. The dim light pooled like spilled moonlight between the shelves. It should’ve felt eerie, but somehow… it didn’t.“You’re
Sleep took me slowly, like sinking beneath velvetwater.At first, there was nothing—just a weightless drift through shadow.But then… the hum returned.That haunting melody.That voice.My dream sharpened like glass coming into focus. I stood in a clearing ringed by crumbling stone pillars, each one etched with symbols that pulsed faintly under the moonlight. The air was thick with memory. With magic.A figure stepped from the dark.Not cloaked this time—but masked. Silver and bone, delicate like porcelain, inlaid with etchings that curled like vines across the surface. They walked without sound, robes brushing against the broken earth.“Maya,” they said.The voice was no longer distorted. It was clear. Calm. Feminine. Familiar.“You’ve seen the edge of the truth,” she said, extending a hand. “But it is time you understand the cost.”I hesitated—but stepped forward.She waved her arm through the air, and the scene shifted—like the world had been a page, and she was turning it.Suddenl