Yvaine hated three things most: early mornings, especially with knocking, surprises, and being told what to do. Today promised all three.
Ugh.
She groaned, burying her face deeper in the pillow. The knock came again—sharper this time, Gareth's voice through the door.
"Miss Yvaine, it's time to get up. You don't want to be late for registration."
She groaned louder. Today was the day she was shipped off to school—for the first time in seventeen years. She didn't want to go. She could stay at Moonvale Manor, train with Master Gareth, and pretend the world didn't exist. But no. Now she had to go to the academy. Which meant mingling. Talking. Someone finding out she hadn't shifted. No wolf. No fur. No growl. Nothing.
Another knock, impatient. "Don't make me open this door."
She flung off the covers and sat up, hair a mess, soul exhausted.
"I'm up," she mumbled.
She opened the door. "Good morning, Master Gareth. How did you sleep?"
She forced a smile, but wanted to slam the door. Last time she stomped her feet, Gareth hit her with the Tumblera spell. Six hours of walking on hands. Not fun.
"Good morning, Miss Yvaine. Your hair looks like a bird's nest. Fix yourself quickly. Your mother wants to speak with you. They've left for the Highborn Accord."
Classic Theolux—vanishing to some summit while she got dumped at school.
Gareth showed her the astravisor—a floating purplish crystal projecting her mother's image.
Lady Eira Theolux. Perfect face, flawless blue hair. Everything Yvaine was not.
"Yvaine, darling."
"Hi, Mum." Yvaine's tone clipped—polite, but distant.
"You could've just called. Or FaceTimed like a normal parent."
Her mother chuckled. "Come now, dear, the astravisor is standard at the Academy."
Right. The Academy. Where everyone hoped she'd shift like a miracle.
Lady Eira launched into a bubbly speech about Moonfire Academy's prestige, her dorm's popularity… blah.
"What if I don't shift?" Yvaine asked softly.
Her mother's smile faded. "I shifted on my eighteenth birthday. Late bloomer. You'll shift."
Hope? Or pity wrapped in a bow?
"Your father sends greetings. Gareth and Zayne will take you. Listen to Zayne."
Ugh. Zayne.
"Yvaine!"
"Yes, mum," she muttered, ending it.
"Good. Bye. Take care."
The image faded. Gareth tucked the crystal away.
"You have one hour. Wear something presentable—robes, if possible. No arguments."
She grimaced. Ugh. The robes.
"Be snappy, Yvie. I'm in charge." Zayne's voice echoed.
"Shut up, Zayne." She slammed the door and sank on the bed. The day was going to be so long.
______
Outside the administration building, Yvaine held a folded paper. The sun was warm. She squinted.
"That wasn't too bad," Zayne said.
"Easy for you. I signed ten forms and gave blood."
Zayne laughed. "Standard. You'll survive. Now, stop being dramatic."
Then, they heard the clicking of heels approaching.
Ms. Myrrin, the principal, stepped out—long black braid, a glowing witch's mark on her neck. And of course, too much perfume.
"You're in good hands, Alpha Zayne," she said, smiling too long. "If your sister needs anything, I'll see to it."
Yvaine eyed her. Flirting? Ew. The woman was decades older than Zayne but she looked stuck at thirty and forever... definitely the mark.
Zayne nodded. "Thank you, Principal."
Nearby girls giggled as he passed. Typical. Silver Wolves got all the stares.
Zayne said, "You'll be okay. Don't punch anyone."
"No promises."
He smiled and headed toward Gareth.
Ms. Myrrin handed Yvaine a scroll. "Your dorm's Wolffire East, room eight. The map will guide you."
Before Yvaine could thank her, the principal vanished.
"Great, just great," she sighed.
The scroll glowed, showing a path and directions.
She pulled her bags and started.
The grounds were huge—stone buildings, tall trees, magic in the air. Students practiced spells.
Turning a corner, Yvaine walked into three girls.
They looked like a supernatural magazine spread—silver hair, shiny and smooth, matching uniforms, perfect posture. The center girl's sharp blue eyes sneered.
Yvaine stumbled. "Sorry—"
The air shifted, heavy and suffocating.
Power suppression. Like Zayne's accidental aura crushes—but on purpose.
The leader sniffed. "Watch where you're going, pup."
One of the other girls smirked. "Didn't know a stray could wander this far from the pack."
The third girl giggled, flicking her silver hair. "What are you? A lost wolf? Or maybe some kind of weakling witch?"
Yvaine tried to speak, but her voice stuck. Lungs tight, like standing in a silent storm.
The leader leaned in closer. "Better watch yourself. No one likes a wandering pup."
Yvaine clenched her fists, but the pressure was crushing.
"look at her... So pathetic under us." the second girl whispered cruelly.
"I'm warning you—don't walk my path ever again." the leader snapped.
The girls exchanged cruel smiles and walked away, leaving Yvaine gasping on one knee.
"What the hell…" she muttered, bending down for her bag.
A voice said softly, "Need help?"
She looked up.
A boy knelt, picking up her scroll. Messy brown hair, warm brown eyes, round glasses. Smelled like fresh books and cinnamon.
"Thanks," she said, breathless.
"Ignorе them," he said. "Silver Wolves are mostly pompous jerks. Especially those three."
She smiled weakly. "Not wrong."
He grinned. "I'm Edward. Ed."
"Yvaine."
"Nice name. Beautiful. Like you."
She flushed.
He laughed, brushing a stray lock behind his ear. "Where you headed?"
"Wolffire East. Room eight."
"Near my dorm—Wolffire West. I'll walk you."
They walked, chatting.
"So, what's your gift? Witch? Wolf? Seer?" Ed asked curiously.
"Um... Uh..Wolf."
He nodded knowingly. "ah a common wolf. Nice to meet you."
Common wolf? There was nothing common about her. She was a Theolux! Sadly, she had no silver hair proof.
He said he was a seer; his mom was a witch. Here since thirteen.
His voice was calming. She wanted him to keep talking.
At the building, he pointed upstairs. "There you go. Good luck."
"Thanks, Ed."
"See you around."
She entered, found her room.
She knocked but got no response. She pushed the knob.
She froze.
Moaning. Loud, breathy.
Her roommate lay on the bed, legs apart, head back, mouth open. A glass bottle floated between her thighs, vibrating.
Not in her hand.
Enchanted?
Yvaine blinked. "Oh. My."
"Oh my goddess!" the girl yelped, throwing a blanket over herself. "Sorry! Thought you were—like—tomorrow!"
Yvaine laughed loud.
"Name's Zuleika. Zully." She was brown-skinned with thick, bright pink hair piled high in a large bun. With a casual wave of her hand, her hair instantly changed into neat cornrows.
"Pretend this never happened."
"Done."
Zully grinned sheepishly. "That side's yours. Last girl—a fae chick—moved out. Don't know why."
Yvaine smirked.
Zully raised an eyebrow, eyeing her. "So… what are you? Witch? Wolf? Seer?"
Before Yvaine could answer, a sharp voice echoed.
"All students remain in dorms. Dinner coming shortly."
Zully groaned. "Ugh. Cafeteria sludge. Good thing I learned food magic."
She waved her hand again, and the pink cornrows melted back into the big bun.
"Pasta or pie?"
Yvaine smiled tight. "I'm good."
____________
Night was too quiet.
Yvaine couldn't sleep.
She slipped out barefoot, hugging her arms.
The hallway glowed faint blue.
She turned a corner—and froze.
A boy stood there, leaning on the wall, silver hair shining.
In front, a girl knelt, red hair falling. He held her head in place, while his was thrown backwards in pleasure.
The sound was wet. Slow. Repetitive.
Her heart slammed in her chest.
She turned to leave, slipped, and fell hard.
The sound echoed.
The boy turned.
His eyes glowed silver.
Locked on hers.
She couldn't move.
"I'm sorry... I'm..."