1. Ryan
Ryan Winters knew the taste of silence all too well. At fourteen, she had learned that grief didn't scream; it settled quietly in the corners of your chest, heavy as iron and twice as cold.
The military-run boarding school called Havenridge was more prison than home. Rows of metal bunk beds filled the dormitories like soldiers standing at attention, and the scent of disinfectant clung to every hallway like a second skin. It was built for kids like her—orphans of war, children whose parents had died with claws, fangs, or spells in their wake.
Her mothers, Tara and Eve, had been legends—fighters who rode into battle with blazing familiars and returned bloodied but unbroken. Until one mission. An ambush. Not even their familiars—silver-furred Arden and graceful blue-eyed Lys—had returned.
Ryan wasn't allowed to cry about it. Not here.
Instead, she spent every free moment wandering. Markets. Back alleys. Fences she shouldn't climb. She traded her rations for stories, watched illegal magic duels from behind crates, and once found an old woman selling forbidden relics—dead things that still whispered. It was better than staying locked in her head.
Today was no different.
She had snuck past the boundary fences and crept into the edge of the wilds just outside the city. The trees thinned here, but the wind spoke louder—carrying scents of moss and something fouler beneath.
That's when she heard it.
A whimper. Low. Painful.
She followed the sound through the underbrush and gasped. A cat—a beautiful, orange-furred feline—lay bleeding against a tree, one leg bent at an awful angle. But his eyes. His eyes were ancient gold. Intelligent. Not wild.
A familiar.
"Hey," Ryan whispered, kneeling beside him. "You're one of them, aren't you?"
The cat tried to growl but choked on it. "Don't… touch me."
Ryan fell back in shock. He spoke. Most familiars only spoke mind-to-mind with their bonded.
But this one? He was still unclaimed.
Or worse—claimed and abandoned.
"I'm not here to hurt you," she said gently. "I can help."
The cat blinked slowly. Blood trickled from his mouth.
"Why?" he asked.
Ryan hesitated. Why? Because she knew pain. Because something about the fire in his eyes reminded her of her mothers. Because she was tired of feeling powerless.
"Because I know what it's like," she said.
The cat closed his eyes.
And did not stop her.