Academy Arcanist Novels & Stories

As if he’s able to discern the direction my thoughts have taken, he says, “I’m a transplant—or, well, technically, I’m adopted into the pack since rogues destroyed my pack. Alpha Glendon and Luna Cherice allowed the family that I live with to take me in when I was just a pup and raise me as their own.” “I’m Maxon, by the way,” he says, holding out a dirt and blood-covered hand for me to shake. I glance at it with a raised eyebrow, and then back at him. “Oh, shit,” he says with a chuckle as he pulls his hand pack, dropping it to his side, and then wipes it against the leg of his jeans, which aren’t much cleaner than the hand itself. “It’s fine,” I say with a small chuckle of my own. “And my n

“They must be terrified of you. I’ve never heard of a child without wings.” “Do you know a lot about the angels?” I ask. He nods. “I used to sit in on Council meetings when Alpha’s mother was the leader of our pack. Before I became the pack doctor I was the head warrior and the Alpha’s lead advisor,” he explains. I grit my teeth as he pulls a tiny sliver of glass from my temple. “Did you know my parents?” I ask. “What’s your name?” “Luciana Morgenstern.” His eyes widen. “Well no wonder they wanted you dead,” he mutters.

This is a school purely for rich men. This academy is built for men. It breathes men. Every corner reeks of power, of legacy, of cruel ambition handed down through generations. These halls are lined with gilded portraits of male rulers, innovators, dictators—men who shaped the world with their iron will and razor-sharp minds. The boys here are trained to follow in their footsteps. Economics. Politics. Law. International strategy. Warfare. Linguistics. Sports. Negotiation. Technology. They are handed the knowledge of the world like it's their birthright.

The journey to the Lycan Academy was long, and I spent most of it trying not to panic, or throw up, or rethink every single life decision that led me to this moment. Mother and I traveled in secrecy, disguised in thick cloaks. Well, she was disguised. I was fully dressed as my new identity…. Ari Silverclaw, a hopeful young warrior from a distant pack. My mother had even forged documents for me, just in case someone decided to get nosy. When we finally arrived at the Academy gates, Mother walked ahead confidently, keeping her veil low to hide her identity, while I tried my best to look like a brooding, mysterious young Alpha-in-training.

With superhearings, everything seemed to be at your ear's disposal. "Welcome back, Vesper," Rosemary, one of the Restaurant's waiters, grinned. She moved in for a hug, which I accepted, and then her eyes flickered to Kelani. Rose was a werewolf as well. In fact, she was one of the alumni of the academy. Many of the students in the academy had nowhere else to go after finishing their studies. They were orphans or just abandoned kids by their parents after the latter realized they had special abilities. So, the Academy had made a special spot for those and anyone who intended to stay instead of going to the real world to explore other possibilities.

Professor Hale stopped writing, and Mira looked up for the first time. A slight flicker of understanding crossed Professor Caine's face. Director Orath set the ledger down. "Now, let's address the issue in the faculty wing." He pointed to the projection board. On the left were the names of the academy faculty. On the right were Foundation representatives and a Restricted Archive Liaison. Two headers are labeled and highlighted separately.: Academy Position. Foundation Position. Director Orath turned to Professor Caine. "The academy's classification office." Professor Caine straightened. "The academy's stance is clear: Kael Draven's records are valid, with confirmed artifact transfer. While t

No mortal knew what the criteria for being able to wield an artifact was as the gods deemed us unfit of possessing such knowledge. That didn't stop people from trying to acquire them though. This, the secret association known as the Arcane Collectors was born. A group of individuals who dedicated their lives and the lives of many in their bloodline to collecting as many of these artifacts as possible. Some were usually lucky enough to have someone who could wield an artifact in their team. Now, the association has a unique ranking system based on the English alphabet with Z being the top dog and A being the weak runt. To attain a rank, you needed a specific amount of regular relics, Union ar

The digital realm of the Ark-Devourer was a sensory deprivation chamber built of infinite, blinding white light and cascading streams of violet data. In the center of this sterile infinity, the Prime Architect sat on a throne of woven fiber-optics, his hollow eyes locking onto Scarlett. "A soul projection," the Architect’s voice echoed, devoid of inflection but heavy with ancient arrogance. "A crude, outdated algorithm. You think you can infect my mainframe with spiritual superstition, Anomaly?"

The academy had always believed itself untouchable. Neutral ground. Sacred ground. A bridge between realms. Its towers pierced the sky in elegant spires of white stone and silver glass. Defensive wards shimmering faintly across its perimeter, ancient enchantments designed to repel invasions. They had always been prepared for riots, or so they thought. For rogue factions. For political pressure. They had not prepared for Aldric. The academy’s full title was known formally as the Academy of Concordance Between Realms a name so long it was rarely spoken outside treaties. It had an history of raising most promising Weres and lycans

But even as I said it, I felt Maya through our connection, felt her struggling against something, being drawn north despite her will. "The Academy was never the target," Alaric continued conversationally. "It was the lure. Draw you here, split your forces, leave the real prize vulnerable." He looked at Nova with grandfather's pride. "She doesn't even know what she is. Raised by humans, taught to suppress instead of embrace. All that power, locked away until crisis breaks it free. Magnificent." Professor Aria moved her hands, weaving something I couldn't identify. Not phoenix fire, but old magic, Academy magic, the kind that bound and warded. Alaric noticed and smiled wider.