Chapter 3 — Scent of the Cursed
Mira's second day at Lycanridge was worse than the first.
The moment she stepped into her first combat theory class, the whispers started.
"That's her."
"She's the one from Thornveil Pack."
"I heard she killed her mother with her birth."
"She doesn't even have a wolf."
Mira kept her chin up, but her hands clenched at her sides. Liana had clearly wasted no time poisoning the air. She even sat smugly three rows back, legs crossed, hair braided with silver charms, whispering lies into the ear of some grinning Alpha-in-training.
The instructor — a gray-haired brute with a scar over one eye — watched the room like he was ready to rip someone's throat out. He called the class to order, assigning partners for the physical assessment at the arena.
Mira knew what was coming before it happened.
"Thornveil," the instructor barked. "You're with Ashfang."
Mira froze. Ashfang was one of the top combatants — huge, arrogant, cruel. She'd seen him laugh during training videos when opponents cried.
He smirked as he approached, already cracking his knuckles.
"Try not to cry, sweetheart," he said, licking his lips.
"I don't cry," Mira said softly.
"You will."
⸻
The arena was made of reinforced stone with a perimeter of enchanted spikes. Students surrounded it on all sides, hungry for blood, drama, or both.
Ashfang moved like a predator — fast, fluid, cocky. Mira stood still, focused, her body wound tight like a coil. She didn't know what would happen, but something in her gut warned her this wasn't just sparring.
He lunged.
The first hit drove her back.
The second one split her lip.
The third — a punch to the ribs — forced her to her knees.
"Get up, cursed freak!" someone shouted.
Mira stared at the blood dripping from her mouth onto the arena floor. It steamed. Hissed.
Ashfang laughed. "Weak little—"
His voice stopped mid-sentence.
Mira looked up. Her eyes were glowing.
Not gold. Not silver.
Black.
A pulse tore through the arena like a shockwave. Everyone staggered. The sky darkened. Wind screamed through the trees.
And Mira moved.
She didn't remember the fight exactly. Only flashes.
Ashfang choking on his own breath. Her fist slamming into his solar plexus. His body hitting the barrier wall hard enough to crack it. Screaming.
When the dust settled, Mira stood over his twitching body, chest heaving, blood smearing her knuckles.
The entire arena was silent.
Even Liana looked afraid.
⸻
From the tower above, Kade watched.
He hadn't meant to look. He'd been on his way to the headmaster's office when he smelled it — her. That scent again. Dark roses. Fire. Forbidden magic.
And now, there she was. In the center of the chaos. Her black eyes boring into the crowd like she was made of rage and ruin.
His wolf roared inside him.
Mate.
Kade slammed a hand against the stone railing, cracking it.
"She's cursed," his wolf growled.
"I know," he muttered.
But it was too late.
The bond had started.