2: ANOMALY

CAMILA

By the time the first bell rang, I already understood one thing clearly.

Lunaris Academy was beautiful—but it was not kind.

The classroom was carved from pale stone and dark wood, sunlight filtering through tall arched windows etched with ancient runes. Desks were arranged in tiers, each seat engraved with symbols tied to a student’s race. Wolves sat together, radiating confidence. Fairies hovered near perches built into the walls. Witches clustered with stacks of spellbooks. Vampires lingered at the back, half in shadow.

And me?

I was seated alone.

My desk was smaller, plainer. No runes. No magic-etched surface. Just wood.

Human accommodations.

I swallowed and straightened my spine, refusing to shrink.

Professor Aurelion entered without sparing me a glance. He was a wolf—silver hair, sharp eyes, authority etched into every movement. The room quieted instantly.

“Open your core texts,” he ordered.

A ripple of movement followed. Heavy tomes thudded onto desks. Books bound in leather and crystal. Pages shimmered faintly with magic.

I hesitated.

The academy-issued materials for humans were… limited. One thin book. No enchantments. No living ink. Just ink and paper.

The silence stretched.

Professor Aurelion’s gaze finally landed on me, slow and assessing. “Miss Ashford,” he said, his tone clipped. “Is there a problem?”

“No, Professor,” I answered quickly, opening my book.

A soft laugh echoed from the wolf section.

“Is that it?” a female voice whispered loudly. “That’s all humans get?”

More laughter followed.

Heat crept up my neck, but I kept my eyes on the page.

The lecture began—advanced pack law theory, layered with historical magic references that assumed innate knowledge of sacred bloodlines. I tried to keep up, scribbling notes furiously, but every time a concept leaned into instinct or magic, I hit a wall.

Questions were asked.

Hands shot up.

I didn’t raise mine.

Then—

“Miss Ashford,” the professor said suddenly. “Explain the significance of blood hierarchy in alpha succession.”

My breath hitched.

I stood slowly, hands clenched at my sides. “Blood hierarchy determines leadership legitimacy,” I began carefully. “But historical records show that leadership stability often depended more on—”

A sharp scoff cut me off.

“She’s wrong.”

I turned.

The voice belonged to a tall female wolf seated near the front. Pale hair. Perfect posture. Power clung to her like perfume.

Liliana Blackthorn.

I didn’t know her name yet—but I felt it in the way others shifted, the way attention bent toward her.

“Humans wouldn’t understand,” Liliana continued smoothly. “Blood hierarchy isn’t theory. It’s instinct. You either have it—or you don’t.”

A few wolves nodded.

Professor Aurelion didn’t correct her.

Instead, he looked at me. “Sit down.”

I obeyed, my ears burning.

The rest of the class followed the same pattern.

Every time I spoke, I was cut off.

Every mistake—magnified.

Every silence—judged.

By the end, my hands were shaking from gripping my pen too tightly.

When the bell rang, students filed out in clusters. No one looked at me—except Liliana.

She passed by slowly, her gaze flicking to my desk, my book.

“Careful,” she said lightly. “Humans break easily here.”

Then she smiled.

I stayed seated until the room emptied.

---

The day didn’t improve.

In combat theory, I was paired with no one. In magical ethics, the professor skipped my raised hand entirely. In history, someone switched my notes with blank parchment.

By lunch, my stomach hurt—not from hunger, but from the constant pressure of being watched.

I carried my tray through the crowded hall, scanning for an empty table.

There wasn’t one.

Until—

“Hey.”

I froze.

The voice was familiar.

I turned to see the wolf I had bumped into yesterday standing beside a table near the windows. He was dressed in the academy’s formal uniform, insignia marking him clearly.

Alpha lineage.

Every head turned toward him.

Whispers rippled through the hall.

“That’s him.”

“Sebastian Blackthorn.”

“Heir of the Blackthorn Pack.”

He smiled—easy, confident, the kind that came naturally to people who had never been overlooked.

“You’re the human girl,” he said. “From yesterday.”

“Yes,” I replied cautiously. “I mean—Camila.”

“Sebastian,” he said. “You look… overwhelmed.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

Before I could answer, a familiar presence slid in beside him.

Liliana.

“Sebastian,” she said sweetly. “There you are.”

Her eyes flicked to me—cold, measuring.

“This is Camila,” Sebastian said casually. “The human student.”

Liliana’s smile sharpened. “I know.”

Sebastian glanced between us. “Camila, this is my adopted sister, Liliana.”

So that was it.

The pieces clicked together.

Liliana stepped closer to him, fingers brushing his arm possessively. “Father’s expecting you,” she said.

Sebastian nodded, then looked back at me. “See you around, Camila.”

And just like that, he was gone—surrounded by admiration, power, belonging.

I stood there with my tray, invisible once more.

But something had shifted.

Because for the first time that day, someone had remembered my name.

And I didn’t yet know whether that would save me—or destroy me.

---