The confrontation came the next evening, during what should have been a routine family dinner in the Archer mansion's formal dining room. The conversation started civilly enough—updates on Ben's packing progress, logistics for his departure to Moonrise Academy, final instructions about maintaining family dignity while at the elite institution.
Then Ben made the mistake of asking a question that revealed just how much his parents' conversation at the country club had affected him.
"When I fail at Moonrise Academy," he said, cutting into his perfectly prepared steak with more force than necessary, "will that finally prove to you that I'm as mediocre as you think I am?"
The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut glass. William set down his wine glass with careful precision, while Margaret's fork paused halfway to her mouth.
"I'm not sure what you're implying," William said carefully.
"I'm not implying anything. I'm directly asking
POV: Miranda ProsperoThe injured raven's wing felt fragile as parchment beneath Miranda's glowing fingertips, but she could sense the bones knitting back together under her careful ministrations. Silver light emanated from her hands as she worked, the same ethereal glow that had been healing woodland creatures since she was old enough to walk the forest paths behind her father's groundskeeper cottage."There you go, beautiful," she whispered as the raven flexed its newly healed wing experimentally. "That should feel much better."The bird cocked its head at her with the kind of intelligent recognition that had become familiar over her seventeen years of magical isolation. Animals didn't just tolerate her presence—they sought it out, traveling sometimes miles to find the strange girl who could speak their language and mend their wounds with starlight.Around her, the Washington forest hummed with early morning life. Squirrels chattered updates about weather patterns and human activity
That afternoon, Desi was studying alone in one of the library's quieter sections when a familiar voice interrupted her concentration."Miss Whitmore? I hope I'm not disturbing your research."She looked up to find Ian Greco approaching with the kind of polished charm that had probably been perfected through years of political family training. His smile was warm, engaging, and made her instinctively wary in ways she couldn't quite articulate."Not at all. What can I help you with?""Actually, I was hoping I might be able to help you." Ian settled into the chair across from her with fluid grace, his presence commanding attention without seeming demanding. "I couldn't help noticing the... spirited discussion you had with some of your Beta peers this morning."Desi felt her shoulders tense. "Were you eavesdropping on a private conversation?""Nothing so intentional. I was simply walking past when I overheard raised voices and recognized your distinctive advocacy style." Ian's laugh was pr
The next morning brought an unexpected confrontation in the form of three Beta students cornering Desi outside her Political Theory seminar. She recognized all of them—children of influential families who moved in the same social circles as the Whitmore diplomatic network."Desi, we need to talk," announced Jessica Morrison, the daughter of an Alpha who controlled significant territory in the Pacific Northwest. Her tone was friendly but carried undertones of serious concern."About what?""About your new... friendship with the Omega scholarship student," said David Rodriguez, a Beta heir whose family ran supernatural legal networks across the Southwest. "People are starting to talk.""What people, and what are they saying?""Pack leaders who know your parents. Faculty members who evaluate student social dynamics for future recommendation letters. Other students who are reassessing their willingness to include you in study groups and social activities." Jessica's voice was carefully di
That evening, Desi found herself drawn to the academy's library—a massive Gothic structure that seemed to contain every book ever written about supernatural politics, pack management, and territorial law. She'd always found comfort in libraries, places where knowledge was valued above social status and intellectual curiosity was encouraged regardless of family background or pack designation.She was deep in research about historical approaches to pack hierarchy reform when she noticed a familiar figure hunched over a table in one of the library's quieter alcoves.Otto Moorland sat surrounded by stacks of books on conflict resolution and diplomatic theory, his wire-frame glasses reflecting the warm light from the reading lamps as he took careful notes in precise handwriting. He looked completely absorbed in his research, the kind of focused intellectual engagement that Desi had always found attractive in people regardless of their pack status or social connections."Mind if I join you?
POV: Desi WhitmoreThe pack hierarchy demonstration left a bitter taste in Desi's mouth that had nothing to do with the cafeteria's overpriced coffee. She sat in the Eastmoor Hall common room, ostensibly working on her Political Theory assignment but actually replaying Derek Matthews's casual cruelty toward Otto Moorland with growing disgust."Dead weight anyway. Might as well make it official."The words echoed in her mind like a slap, not because they were particularly creative insults, but because they represented everything wrong with supernatural society's approach to pack hierarchy and social value. Derek had reduced a brilliant young diplomat to his pack designation and found him wanting, dismissing genuine capabilities because they didn't fit traditional Alpha-centric models of leadership.It was exactly the kind of systemic discrimination that Desi had spent years watching her parents navigate in their diplomatic careers—the assumption that worth was determined by inherited s
After dinner, Otto was walking back to Northwind Hall with a lightness in his step that he hadn't felt since arriving at Moonrise Academy. The successful pack coordination exercise, combined with Desi's public support and the genuine friendships he seemed to be developing, had given him hope that maybe he could find his place among the supernatural elite after all.He was so absorbed in reflecting on the day's positive developments that he almost didn't notice the figure stepping out of the shadows near the dormitory entrance."Otto Moorland?"The voice was cultured, warm, with the kind of natural charisma that made people instinctively trust the speaker. Otto turned to see Ian Greco approaching with a perfectly calibrated smile—friendly but not overwhelming, interested but not intrusive."Yes?" Otto adjusted his glasses nervously, recognizing Ian from orientation as the son of one of the most powerful supernatural political families in North America."Ian Greco. I don't think we've b