Kalen Virexen POV
The academy grounds shimmered in the early morning light, but to Kalen, it was all too loud — too gilded, too perfect, too predictable.
He walked down the obsidian steps of Aetherbourne Academy like a prince born of war — straight-backed, unreadable, with the unshakable confidence that came from years of forced perfection. Behind him, his friends joked loudly, trading insults and laughing like they owned the realm.
They probably thought they did.
Kalen said nothing. He didn't need to. His presence was enough.
Every student stepped aside when he passed, either out of respect, fear, or ambition. Their eyes tracked the rings on his fingers, the silver Virexen crest embroidered on his jacket, the heavy pendant his mother had fastened to his collar this morning — a polished obsidian fang, once worn by Virexen Alphas on the battlefield.
Symbolism matters, Evelina had told him as she straightened his jacket with clinical precision.
You're the heir. Be the heir.
Kalen wanted to burn the thing.
He wasn't in the mood for school, and he definitely wasn't in the mood for the mate ceremony looming over them like a curse.
He hated the way everyone talked about it — as if finding your mate solved everything. As if the moon would whisper your destiny into your ear, and suddenly all the pain, pressure, and politics just… vanished.
Bullshit.
The last thing he needed was some glowing-eyed girl with moon fever throwing herself into his life. And yet…
His wolf stirred beneath his skin, restless.
Kalen paused at the edge of the staircase. The courtyard below teemed with students — shifting auras, whispering cliques, pulsing magic. But one energy stood out.
Like a cold breeze cutting through summer heat.
Her.
She moved fast through the gates, her curls bouncing with each step. Gold glinted at her throat — that moon-shaped pendant she never took off.
Elara Vale.
He didn't know why he always noticed her. Maybe it was the way she moved like she didn't care if anyone was watching… or the way his wolf reacted when she got too close — a flicker of confusion, of something primal and half-familiar.
But she hated him. That much was obvious.
He'd seen the way she looked at him. Like he was nothing more than a tyrant with a title. Like she knew every Virexen sin before he'd even spoken a word.
And maybe she was right.
He glanced at his friends — Rhys was mocking a timid elemental girl for her hair, and Seth was already planning some cruel spell to sabotage a rival's locker.
Kalen clenched his jaw.
He didn't like them, not really. But loyalty was a language his father understood. And disobedience? That came with consequences.
Still, as he watched Elara laugh with her friends — the quirky Caelithar girl with lavender curls and that half-dragon bookworm Theo — something twisted inside him.
She looks happy.
He didn't know what that felt like anymore.
"You good?" Rhys asked, falling into step beside him.
Kalen gave a curt nod. "Fine."
"You looked like you were gonna eat someone alive." Rhys grinned. "Thinking about the ceremony?"
"Thinking about not failing Ethics again," Kalen lied.
Rhys laughed. "C'mon, man. You don't need a mate to rule. You've already got everything."
Kalen didn't respond.
He didn't need a mate.
He didn't need anyone.
But for some gods-damned reason…
he couldn't stop thinking about the girl with storm-grey eyes.