Chapter 8

MAYA

The room was too quiet.

The kind of quiet that presses into your lungs and makes it hard to breathe. I stood at the center of the chamber, ringed by stone pillars and a semicircle of council members—creatures that looked mostly human, but carried something beneath the surface. Power. Age. Judgment.

I felt like I was on trial.

And maybe I was.

My hands trembled, but I kept them clasped in front of me. My heart thudded against my ribs so loudly I was sure someone—probably all of them—could hear it.

Then someone walked.

I could feel his aura as it changed the atmosphere of the room. He was tall, sharp in black, every line of his posture carved from control. But his eyes—those eyes—were the first thing that made me forget where I was. They were a piercing, wild gold, like the moment before a lightning strike. He glanced at me. Just then I felt shivers run through my spine.

My breath hitched. I almost forgot to breathe entirely until they called my name.

“Maya Lennox.”

I stood, legs barely moving, and stepped into the center of the chamber. The stone beneath my boots was cold. I could feel the pendant against my chest, hot now. Like it was watching with me.

“You are aware that Moonridge Academy accepts only one human per session?” a stern-faced man asked. His voice carried the weight of law.

“Yes,” I said, quieter than I meant to. I cleared my throat. “Yes.”

“Do you understand what’s expected of that human?”

“To observe. To learn. To keep the peace,” I recited from the letter, my voice steadier this time.

I could feel their eyes all over me. Weighing me. Measuring. Not just my words—but something deeper. Something they weren’t saying.

“And yet you carry something... unusual.”

They gestured to the pendant. I froze.

“I just found it,” I said carefully. “In my room. Before the first message arrived. I didn’t think it meant anything… until now I guess.”

“Did you know about the wolves? About the Lunar Borne?” one of them asked.

“Nope. Never heard of them.’’ I answered

Her gaze flicked toward me again, lingering.

I sat completely still, but inside, something unfurled and coiled at once.

“Have you ever shifted?” someone asked sharply.

I blinked for a second. “Shifted?”

“Into a wolf,” clarified another councilwoman, older than the trees outside. “Any animal? Have you ever experienced an uncontrolled transformation, even briefly?”

“No,” I whispered in fear.”

As I glanced around, my eyes met his, the I quickly looked away.

He was still, like a statue—but I could feel him watching me. Not in the way the others were. Not with suspicion. His gaze felt like gravity.

“Do you fear wolves?” one of them asked abruptly.

The room fell still. My eyes slid back to him.

“No,” I said.

It wasn’t bravado. It was truth. I didn’t know why, but I felt safer here—even if I didn’t understand any of this. Even if I should’ve been terrified.

More murmurs. More notes scratched into parchment.

Then, the head elder turned toward Lucien. “Alpha Lucien. Any observations?”

He held my gaze as he spoke.

“She’s calm in a room designed to intimidate. That says more than any background check.”

My breath caught. I tried not to react. Not to feel anything. But I did.

The questions shifted again—my background, school, my test scores in things I didn’t even realize were connected to them—lunar energy, pattern recognition, dream analysis. I answered as best I could, but the whole time, I felt like I was standing in a storm I couldn’t see.

Eventually, they dismissed me.

I walked back to my seat, legs stiff, but I didn’t look down. I didn’t cry. I didn’t flinch.

But as I sat, I let my eyes find his again—Alpha Lucien.

And this time… I didn’t look away.