Ryan woke earlier than usual.
The sky outside was still streaked with pale pink, the kind of morning that made everything look softer than it really was. The blinds cut thin bars of light across the dorm room, painting stripes on the floor.
The campus was quiet—just the hum of sprinklers on the grass, the coo of pigeons on the ledge, and the shuffle of a few early risers heading out with bags slung over their shoulders.
For a moment, Ryan just lay there, staring at the ceiling. No system alerts. No trials screaming for his attention. The resonance in his chest was there, but faint—like background music he could almost forget if he wanted to.
Almost.
He rolled onto his side, exhaling slowly. The mark on his hand pulsed faintly beneath his skin, but even that felt subdued, as though it, too, wanted to rest.
He swung his legs out of bed, stretching until his shoulders popped. A yawn cracked his jaw as he pulled on a hoodie. The faint smell of toast and butter drifted through the hall from the common kitchen, grounding him more than anything else.
It was strange how much he craved mornings like this. Days that felt… normal. Like he was just another student in a busy dorm, not the boy tethered to a prophecy.
By the time Ryan reached the cafeteria, "normal" was a bit of a stretch.
The place was buzzing with noise—students shouting across tables, trays clattering against each other, the clink of cutlery, and the smell of fried plantains, beans, and eggs thick in the air. Steam fogged the windows, and laughter carried over the din.
Ryan balanced his tray carefully, scanning the crowd. It didn't take long to spot Ethan. The boy had stacked his tray so high it looked like a food pyramid. Plantains, toast, scrambled eggs, beans, even a slice of pie someone must have pitied him with. Maya sat across from him, sipping tea with a deliberately calm expression that failed to hide her amusement.
Ryan slid into the seat beside them, setting his tray down. "Morning."
"Ryan!" Ethan nearly sloshed juice across the table in his excitement. "Guess what? I just invented a new meal. Behold, the Triple Stack. Bread, beans, plantain, repeat. Perfect ratios, perfect flavor. I might patent it."
Maya arched an eyebrow. "That's not an invention. That's a shortcut to a clogged artery."
"Excuse you," Ethan said, genuinely offended. "This is art."
Ryan smirked, stabbing his fork into his eggs. "If you drop dead halfway through class, I'm not carrying you to the nurse."
Ethan clutched his chest in mock betrayal. "Et tu, Ryan? Even my own Alpha abandons me in my time of need."
Maya pressed her lips together, clearly fighting a smile. "You're impossible."
"And proud of it," Ethan replied, shoving a forkful into his mouth with zero shame.
Ryan shook his head, but warmth tugged at the corners of his mouth. The heaviness that usually followed him seemed to lift here, at this noisy little table. The resonance stirred faintly, wrapping around them. It showed in Ethan's brighter grin, in the way Maya's shoulders loosened as her guarded smile lingered.
[Bond Strengthened.][Trust Level: 26%.]
Ryan's fork paused halfway to his mouth. He forced himself to keep eating, pretending nothing had happened.
They weren't just numbers.
They were proof. Proof that this—breakfast banter and dumb food experiments—mattered more than he'd realized.
Training Lessons
Later that morning, Ryan's moment of peace ended the way it often did—Aria showing up without warning, blade in hand.
"Field," she said simply.
Ryan groaned, dragging himself up from the bench. "Do you ever say hello like a normal person?"
She didn't bother replying. She rarely did.
The training grounds were still damp from sprinklers, the air cool and sharp with the scent of wet grass. Ryan stretched his arms, claws sliding free with a metallic scrape, as Aria took her stance opposite him.
She lunged first. Always first. Her blade whistled through the air, sharp and fast. Ryan blocked instinctively, claws clashing against steel with a burst of sparks.
She pressed harder, circling him like a predator. Ryan ducked, countered, spun left, then backpedaled as the blade missed his chest by an inch. Sweat broke out along his neck.
"You're quicker," she said between strikes, her tone flat as if she were commenting on the weather.
Ryan hissed, narrowly avoiding another swing. "That's your version of a compliment?"
"You'll live," she said coolly, stepping back only to lunge again.
The clash grew sharper—claws raking, blade flashing. Ryan found his rhythm, letting instinct bleed into his movements. The resonance steadied his steps, quiet but present, like a silent hand guiding him forward.
He feinted left, spun right, and for a heartbeat caught her off balance.
Aria froze, then lowered her blade. A ghost of a smile flickered across her lips. "Better."
Ryan panted, bent at the waist, sweat dripping down his chin. "You're saying that a lot lately."
"Don't get cocky," she said, but her voice was softer.
He straightened, chest still heaving. "Why push me this hard?"
Aria's gaze lingered on him, sharp but shadowed by something else. "Because when the Blood Moon comes, there won't be time for hesitation. You have to be ready before then. If you stumble, your pack stumbles."
The words sat heavy on Ryan's shoulders. But this time, he didn't argue. He couldn't.
Because she was right.
By the afternoon, Ryan found himself back in the library with Ethan and Maya.
Ethan had claimed two chairs for himself, sprawled dramatically across them like he was posing for a portrait. Maya sat neatly, bowstring tools lined up in order, her hands moving with patient precision. Ryan actually tried to focus on the book Aria had shoved into his hands earlier, but focus was difficult with Ethan nearby.
"Okay," Ethan said suddenly, breaking the silence. "New game. If Ryan were a fruit, what would he be?"
Ryan groaned, dropping his head into his book. "Why am I always the subject?"
"Because it's fun," Ethan replied cheerfully. "I vote coconut. Hard shell, but secretly soft. Like, really soft. Probably cries at dog movies."
Maya looked up, considering. "Mango. Serious on the outside, but if you wait long enough, he's… sweet."
Ryan choked. "What?"
Maya's cheeks flushed faintly as she ducked back into her notes. Ethan burst into loud, exaggerated laughter, nearly falling off his chair.
"Oh my god. Ryan the Mango. I am never letting this go. True Alpha Mango. Lord of the Tropics."
Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose. "I hate you both."
But the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. The warmth in his chest spread, and the resonance thrummed again, weaving through their laughter like invisible threads.
[Bond Strengthened.][Status: Potential Pack Member—Developing.]
Ryan leaned back, letting his book fall onto his lap. These bonds weren't forged in battle scars. They were built here—in the dumb jokes, the quiet afternoons, the moments where he felt human again.
And maybe, that mattered more than he'd realized.
That evening, the courtyard glowed with lanterns strung between the trees. The storm's dampness had left the air cool, fresh, and tinged with the smell of roasted corn and puff-puff wafting from the food stalls.
Students gathered in clusters—some strumming guitars, some laughing around fire pits, some tossing snacks back and forth. The golden glow of the lanterns painted everything in warm light.
Ryan sat on the steps with Ethan sprawled beside him, Maya perched with her bow across her knees, and Aria leaning back with her usual watchful silence.
Ethan tossed Ryan a roasted corn cob, grinning. "Food of champions."
Ryan bit in, savoring the smoky taste. "Better than your Triple Stack."
"Lies and slander," Ethan said through a mouthful.
Maya chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Aria, for once, didn't scold anyone. She just sat quietly, eyes reflecting the glow of the lanterns as they swayed in the breeze.
Ryan glanced at them—at Ethan's ridiculous grin, Maya's quiet determination, Aria's sharp calm. Something inside his chest tightened.
The resonance pulsed harder now, strong and steady, like a heartbeat that wasn't just his own.
[Objective Progress: Gather Your Pack.][Current Pack Bonds: 3.]
Three.
Not just numbers. Not just system prompts. People.
Ethan, with his endless humor. Maya, with her steady resolve. Aria, with her relentless drive.
Ryan leaned back, staring up at the drifting lanterns. For once, he wasn't thinking about survival. He wasn't the cursed boy under a prophecy's weight.
He was part of something. A beginning.
And he realized, quietly but firmly—this, right here, was what he wanted to protect.