Aetherbourne Academy rose into the sky like a monument to power. Black-gold spires shimmered with enchantments, marble walkways curved into floating arches, and wolves in finely tailored uniforms moved like royalty across the enchanted campus grounds.
Elara jogged up the front steps just as the enchanted bells tolled, the sound vibrating through her bones.
She barely had time to catch her breath when the crowd parted — not for her, but for him.
Kalen Virexen.
Every student's head turned as he walked down the academy steps with his pack of miscreants trailing behind him like shadows. Tall — easily over six feet — with a body built from years of battle training, he moved with that effortless grace only Alpha-born wolves could pull off.
His dark brown hair was tousled in that expensive, careless way. His golden-amber eyes glinted beneath thick lashes, shifting silver at the edges from his constant suppressed Alpha aura. His skin was warm and sun-kissed, jawline sharp, lips set in a permanent smirk.
And gods, he smelled unfair — like cedarwood smoke, crushed sage, and just a hint of clean rain.
Girls literally sighed as he passed.
Elara? She rolled her eyes so hard it hurt.
She had zero patience for Kalen Virexen and his band of overgrown egos. They were the worst kind of wolves — spoiled, cruel, and addicted to dominance. Elara had seen them shove lower-rank kids into lockers for fun. One of them once hexed a poor vampire transfer until his fangs fell out.
Bullies in silk.
And she hated how they carried power like it was birthright instead of burden.
As Kalen passed her, his eyes barely flicked in her direction. She didn't care.
Good, she thought. Keep walking, Virexen. The moon could pair me with a tree stump and I'd still prefer it over you.
"Elara!" a voice chirped from behind her, bright as sunlight breaking through fog.
Wren.
Elara turned and nearly melted as her best friend flung herself into a hug.
Wren was shorter than Elara, petite but bursting with chaotic energy. Her curls were dyed lavender at the ends today, bouncing around her caramel-brown cheeks. Her uniform was already altered — cropped jacket, glittery pins, fingerless gloves. Her eyes were honey-gold, sharp with curiosity and mischief.
"You have to help me plan my outfit for the mating ceremony," Wren gushed. "I'm thinking deep forest green or maybe silver to match moonlight. Too cliché?"
"You're never cliché," Elara said, laughing.
Wren had gotten her wolf early, at fourteen — a sleek, silver creature with glowing eyes and a big mouth, just like her. It made her confident, grounded, even a little smug.
But she never made Elara feel small. In fact, she made Elara feel normal. Loved.
They met in the library when they were ten — Elara was hiding from a Thorneveil patrol, covered in bruises, nose buried in a book about herbal defence spells. Wren had sat next to her without asking, handed her a cookie, and said, "I like your hair. You look like a storm cloud."
They'd been inseparable ever since.
"El, hey!" came another voice — deeper, warm, amused.
Theo strolled up with his usual lazy smile and a thermos in one hand.
Tall and lean with a honey-brown complexion and soft curls, Theo looked like the kind of guy who belonged in a painting. His dark green eyes sparkled with quiet humour, and he always smelled like cinnamon and old books. His uniform was half-untucked, tie missing as usual.
He'd gotten his wolf at sixteen — a black-and-gold beast that moved like smoke. And while he was often sarcastic and aloof, he had a soft spot for Elara he didn't bother hiding.
They met when she was seven. He'd found her crying behind the Academy's greenhouse after Vanya called her a stray. Instead of asking what was wrong, he'd handed her a flower and said, "Don't cry. You'll ruin your badass reputation."
He made her feel seen, but never exposed. Loved, but never caged.
And now, standing with the two people who anchored her to something real, Elara finally let herself breathe.
Senior year.
The mate ceremony.
The beginning of everything.
Or the unravelling of it all.
But at least, she wasn't alone.