In the tiered auditorium-style classroom, werewolf students filtered in, rowdy and animated. The air buzzed with energy—tails flicked, voices clashed, and the scent of damp fur and adrenaline filled the space. Amidst the chaos, Athena sat quietly in the farthest corner, hunched over her journal. She kept her head low, her black ears twitching subtly as she scribbled, hoping to remain invisible.
Then the atmosphere shifted.
Orcus stepped through the doorway, flanked by his packmates. Their confident strides and sharp gazes commanded immediate attention.
As Orcus entered, he instinctively scanned the room. His sharp eyes caught the faint movement of Athena's ears in the corner. Though she never looked up, he knew she was there.
He leaned toward his sister beside him and muttered, "The teacher's close. Let's get this place in order."
She gave a dry, unimpressed clearing of her throat, then called out with a theatrical tone, "Everybody, take a seat!"
Unsurprisingly, no one listened.
Orcus chuckled under his breath—then in a flash, his demeanor shifted. His voice boomed across the room as he and his packmates began shoving students toward their seats, their physical presence enough to overpower any resistance.
Order returned swiftly.
Just as things settled, Orcus spotted someone moving to sit beside Athena. Without a second thought, he shifted into his full werewolf form—fur bristling, limbs elongated—and leapt over rows of desks and startled classmates in a blur.
Athena turned her head at the sound, eyes wide. But by the time she fully registered what had happened, Orcus was seated calmly next to her, already back in his human form, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
Athena clutched her book to her chest, her voice a gentle whisper.
"How's your morning?"
Orcus's lopsided grin hinted at a story, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Terrible. I waited outside some girl's door to walk her to class, but she didn't come out. Made me late." His eyes narrowed playfully as he asked, "What time did you get here, then?"
Athena set her book down, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes.
"Before I answer that... is sneaking into class in the middle of the night allowed?"
Orcus chuckled, the sound low and smooth, like honey pouring over rough stone. "Definitely not. But for you, I'd rewrite the rulebook if I had to."
Athena's cheeks flushed a delicate pink as she shook her head. "No thanks. I'm not into rule-breaking or being the center of attention."
Orcus leaned back, his arms draped across the back of his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. "Your very existence puts you in the spotlight." He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling like fallen leaves. Athena shot him a pointed look, her lips twitching into a smirk.
The teacher shuffled in, his eyes scanning the room with a mix of annoyance and resignation, like a parent dealing with rowdy children. "Alright, quiet down. Let's begin." The room groaned, a collective sigh of boredom, but Athena merely sighed and pulled out a book, hiding behind it.
Hours dragged by, the lecture a monotone drone that sent half the class tumbling into dreamland. The fluorescent lights overhead seemed to hum in sync with the teacher's voice, a relentless beat that was both soothing and suffocating. Athena wasn't immune; she dozed off, her book slipping from her grasp, and her head landed on Orcus's shoulder with a gentle thud. He glanced down, a soft smile playing on his lips.
As the lecture finally drew to a close, Orcus leaned in, his voice low and husky. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Class is over." Athena jolted awake, her cheeks flushing as she realized she'd drooled on Orcus's shoulder. "Sorry," she mumbled, avoiding eye contact, her voice barely audible.
Orcus stood up, his eyes never leaving hers as he waited for her to gather her things. As she slung her bag over her shoulder, he reached out and took her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers like the threads of a rope. Athena didn't notice at first, too caught up in her own thoughts, but as they walked down the stairs, she felt a sense of security wash over her.
It wasn't until they were halfway down the stairs that she realized she was holding hands with Orcus. And to her surprise, she didn't feel the urge to pull away. As they walked, one of Orcus's friends stopped them, a sly grin spreading across her face like a sunrise. "This message is for cool people only," she whispered, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Orcus puffed out his chest, his grin growing wider. "Oh, I'm more than cool." Athena chimed in quickly, "And I'm an antisocial introvert. I don't think-" Their friend cut them off, yelling, "You're both average cool people!" Orcus looked offended, while Athena made a face, her lips pursing in distaste
.
Their friend continued, her voice barely above a whisper, "Tomorrow, the school's hosting a very important gathering." Orcus's eyes lit up with interest. "What's the event about?" "You know,... boring stuff about our future and the next alpha," she replied, her voice hushed. Orcus's grin returned, his eyes glinting with amusement. "So it's about me." Their friend rolled her eyes, a dramatic flourish of her hand. "Whatever. Just be there. And by 'their', I mean, you're helping prepare for the event."
As she walked away, Athena turned to Orcus, "You seem really confident about being the next alpha." Orcus's expression turned cheeky, "It's pretty obvious. Do you not have faith in me?" Athena's eyes widened in amusement, and she chuckled, "Well? Yes, I do have faith in you. I just don't want you to embarrass yourself." Orcus smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, like the first hints of dawn. "You're worried about me?" Athena's cheeks flushed, "I... worry about everything."
Orcus's smile softened, and he squeezed her hand, his touch warm and reassuring. "I'll be fine, Athena. In fact, I'll be more than fine. I'm the next alpha." Athena tilted her head and smiled.
As night fell, Athena retreated to her room, fresh from a bath. She walked towards her dressing table, sat down, and gazed into the mirror. Her eyes widened as she noticed her wolf ears had disappeared. "Dammit," she whispered. She opened her drawer and pulled out a massive book, placing it on the table. Just as she was about to open it, the book floated out of her reach and hovered in front of her face. Eyes and a mouth magically appeared on its cover. "You need to learn how to cast spells without opening me up," said the book in a low, female British voice.
Athena sighed, "I know, Moonwhisper." Her gaze drifted to a painted portrait on the wall, depicting her younger self and an older female werewolf dressed in janitor clothes. She got distracted, lost in thought. "Go on. Do the spell," Moonwhisper prompted, breaking the silence.
Athena's attention snapped back to the book. "I'm scared, Moonwhisper," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "All this free housing and food will expire in a couple of months. How am I supposed to live in a society built for werewolves?" "Easy. By pretending to be one," Moonwhisper replied. Athena sighed, frustration etched on her face. "It's not that easy. I can't even shapeshift into a full werewolf for more than two seconds." She grunted, "People are going to find out what I am, and they'll burn me alive in front of everyone... like I'm their ex's photo!"
"Don't forget you were raised by werewolves," Moonwhisper said sternly. "It's unfortunate that now you're on your own, but that only means you really need to master as much magic as possible for your own survival... especially the ones that kill werewolves and vampires... instantly." Athena's eyes widened at the mention of killing. "Kill," she whispered to herself, her voice laced with unease. "I don't want to kill anyone."
The book sighed, "It's an unfortunate life you're living, but trust me, once you master your powers, you'll be able to live a normal werewolf life." Athena was silent for a brief period of time. Then she broke the silence, "Do you think I'll ever meet anyone special enough to tell my secret?" "The chances are slim, but, maybe... maybe you will."
The grand hall of the werewolf boarding school buzzed with energy. The place was rugged but impressive — tall stone walls lined with ancient weapons, battle-worn shields, and faded tapestries depicting old wolf legends. Wooden chairs scraped noisily across the stone floor as students kicked them into place, laughing and teasing each other as they prepared the hall for the evening's training ceremony.
Orcus, dressed in a loose black tee with sleeves rolled up, tossed a chair upright with one hand and adjusted the positioning of a heavy table with the other. His energy was infectious — confident, sharp, and unmistakably alpha-like.
"Orcus," came a voice behind him.
He turned to see his sister, phone in hand and a mischievous grin on her face. "Dad wants to talk to you," she said, waving the device in front of him.
Orcus groaned dramatically. "What a tragedy. Too bad you don't know where I am. Therefore, it's impossible for you to hand me the phone."
A stern voice crackled through the speaker: "I can hear you, boy."
Orcus winced and looked at the phone like it betrayed him. His sister laughed as she handed it over. "Good luck."
He reluctantly brought the phone to his ear. "Hey, Dad."
"Where are you?" his father asked, voice commanding and low.
"In the hall. Helping set up."
"You'd better be. Orcus, you are not just another wolf. You carry the bloodline of our ancestors — of the first alpha. Do you even understand the weight of that?"
Orcus sighed but said nothing.
"The alpha isn't a title for the strongest brawler," his father continued. "It was a sacred role once. Chosen under the light of the full moon, blessed by the old spirits. The alpha is the protector of the pack, the voice of reason in chaos, the first into battle, and the last to retreat. You don't just fight for the pack — you lead it through fear, loyalty, and respect."
Orcus shifted his stance slightly, glancing around at the laughing students.
"If you're going to inherit that legacy," his father said firmly, "then act like it."
"Got it," Orcus muttered. "Loud and clear."
The call ended. Orcus handed the phone back to his sister, rubbing the back of his neck. "That man lectures like it's his superpower."
"He just wants you to be ready," she said, amused.
Then her expression brightened with mischief. "Anyway, look what I caught." She pulled a folded paper from her pocket. "Flew straight out of Athena's window. Almost hit me."
Orcus raised an eyebrow and took the paper, unfolding it carefully. His expression shifted as he looked at it — a drawing filled with deep shades of grey, blue, and violet. It showed a lone figure under a dark sky, their shadow stretching far behind them. It radiated silence and sadness.
"This is... heavy," he said quietly. "If she drew this recently…"
He glanced toward the hallway. "She might be spiraling. I'll be right back."
Just as Orcus was about to push open the door and leave the hall, a sudden shout from above cut through the noise.
"Uh… guys?" called out a janitor, standing on a ladder as he cleaned one of the high stained-glass windows. "Something's not right!"
Orcus paused, turning back as everyone looked up.
"There's a swarm coming this way," the janitor continued, squinting at the sky through the glass. "Birds—no… wait—bats?"
Whispers rippled through the room.
"Bats?" someone asked. "This time of year?"
The janitor stumbled down the ladder, panicking. "It's too many of them… They're flying in formation!"
Gasps erupted around the room. Some students instinctively took a step back, scanning the windows.
"But… how?" one of the werewolves muttered. "They can't cross the boundary."
Without a second thought, he sprinted across the room, vaulted up a column, and perched on the wide window ledge. He scanned the horizon—but saw only the pale blue of the evening sky.
"False alarm?" someone asked.
Then, without warning, a deep rumble echoed from above. The air changed.
Suddenly, a blast of soot and wind exploded from the stone chimney at the far end of the hall.
Dozens of black bats burst out, swirling in a cyclone of flapping wings. The crowd shrieked and backed away as the bats dove to the floor, then—mid-air—shifted form.
Each bat twisted and morphed, flesh emerging from wings, limbs snapping into place, clothes folding over newly formed bodies.
In seconds, the group stood tall — vampires, pale and sharp-eyed, each dressed in sleek, dark suits with red-trimmed lapels. Their long black wings folded behind them like cloaks.
The tension in the room dropped into a deadly silence.
From the front stepped a tall male vampire with slick black hair and a sardonic smile. He adjusted his cufflinks, then raised his chin.
"Now, if all you good little puppies behave," he said smoothly, his voice echoing, "we can trash this place in peace, and no one has to bleed… much."
Growls answered him.
Orcus jumped down from the ledge, landing with a heavy thud.
"You couldn't just stay on your side of the line and mind your own damn business?" he snarled, baring his fangs.
A sleek vampire girl beside the white-haired one took a step forward, her eyes gleaming like silver.
"Or…" she said, cocking her head, "you can scurry away, and we'll only laugh a little."
There was a long, heavy pause.
Then a loud crack—bones shifting.
Then another.
And another.
The werewolves began to shift, spines arching, limbs thickening, claws bursting through fingers. Their uniforms tore as their full forms emerged—hulking beasts with wild fur and razor-sharp teeth.
Orcus rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, eyes locked on the vampires. "Let's give them a proper welcome."
With that, the room exploded into chaos.
Growls, roars, and snarls filled the air. Claws clashed with blades, wings sliced through dust, and bodies slammed against walls.
Orcus's sister, panting, sprinted up the staircase toward the main office. She yanked out her communicator and pressed the emergency button.
"Come on… come on…" she hissed, staring at the no-signal icon. "No reception?"
Athena stirred slowly, her eyes fluttering open to the distant sound of chaos. A dull thudding echoed through the walls, layered with growls, crashes, and the sharp screech of something heavy being tossed across stone.
She blinked, disoriented. "What… is that?" she murmured groggily.
Sitting up, she tilted her head and focused on the sounds. Roars. Shouts. Splintering wood. Her eyes widened.
"That's not just noise... that's a fight," she whispered, quickly sliding off the bed. "I wonder if Orcus is part of it."
Without hesitation, she scrambled into her slippers and bolted out the door. Her footsteps echoed down the stone staircase as she followed the growing cacophony to the main hall.
But the moment she neared the entrance, her instincts screamed. She stopped short, gasping at the scene before her.
She backed against the wall, pressing her hand to her chest as her eyes scanned the battle erupting inside the once grand hall.
The place was in shambles—tables overturned, torches flickering wildly, and banners torn from the ceiling. Werewolves, in their transformed state, moved with brute strength, claws slashing and teeth bared. They were winning by numbers, their advantage clear. Wooden stakes were everywhere—shoved into cracks, broken from furniture, or clutched in shaking hands.
But the vampires were vicious. Their movements were inhumanly fast, a blur of pale skin and black wings. Their fangs glinted, and their bites left gaping wounds—each one deadly.
Athena's eyes locked on Orcus as he plunged a jagged stake into the skull of a snarling vampire. He exhaled, standing tall and bloodied, when—
Across the chaos, the vampire stood calmly amid the frenzy, his crimson eyes locked on him with a slow, cruel smirk. Orcus tensed, visibly disturbed. But just as he stepped toward her, someone dashed between them—and he vanished in the blink of an eye.
Meanwhile, Athena crouched low behind the door, torn with indecision. Her heart pounded in her ears.
"What do I do?" she whispered. "I can't just watch."
Suddenly, something cold and fast flashed in front of her.
A vampire lunged out of the shadows, grabbing her with feral strength. His hand clamped tightly over her mouth.
"Shhh," he hissed into her ear. "Don't scream."
Her eyes widened in horror.
He bared his fangs and bent toward her throat—but Athena jerked her head back and struggled violently, kicking at his legs.
With a frustrated growl, he shoved her hard, sending her crashing onto the floor, landing near the doorway in plain view of the others.
He lunged again.
"No, no—!" she gasped.
Then, suddenly, her mouth moved on instinct. Her voice trembled as she shouted the first spell that surged to her tongue.
"Atkis Sphaira!"
A blinding flash erupted around her.
Instantly, glowing orbs formed mid-air—one for every vampire in the hall. The spheres wrapped around them, trapping each one like fireflies caught in golden glass. Inside, harsh beams of concentrated sunlight began to swirl.
Screams rang out as the weaker vampires shrieked, their skin blistering in seconds.
Gasps followed—not from the vampires—but from the werewolves.
Athena's illusion spell had faded.
Her fake ears and tail vanished, revealing her true form—dark robes fluttering from the residual energy of the spell, her emerald eyes glowing with raw magic. Her identity was no longer hidden.
"She's—" someone started.
"A witch?" another growled in disbelief.
Orcus turned sharply, eyes wide. He saw her there, arms raised, shaking from the spell's strain. The truth hit him instantly.
The weaker vampires were already ash. The stronger ones fought to stay upright, their flesh cracking under the sun's glow.
Athena gritted her teeth. i
Her knees buckled, the orbs shattering in a flash as her magic gave out. The surviving vampires hit the ground, panting, burned but alive.
Orcus lunged at one of them with a roar, kicking him away. But his eyes darted back to Athena—just in time to see her sprint out of the room, panic all over her face.
She flew up the stairs, dodging debris. "Moonwhisper!" she cried breathlessly.
She turned the corner—
And slammed into something tall and cold.
She stumbled back, gasping.
A man stood before her—pale, elegant, with a sinister calm in his dark eyes. A vampire.
"Well, well," he purred. "A little witch, hiding among mutts. How fascinating."
She opened her mouth to scream—but he was faster.
He vanished and reappeared behind her, pressing a damp cloth to her mouth. The scent of chemicals hit her nose, strong and dizzying.
"You're coming with me," he whispered, catching her as she went limp. "I know exactly what to do with you."
A moment later, Orcus charged into the hallway—but it was too late.
She was gone.