-Julien Grayson:
I stepped through the gate and let my eyes take in the campus. The stone walls of the buildings stretched high, sunlight bouncing off the windows, making them gleam. The air smelled faintly of freshly cut grass and early-morning dew. A few students walked along the paths, some with books in their arms, some just strolling in groups, laughing quietly. I adjusted the strap of my backpack, feeling the weight of my sketchpad against my side, and started walking.
The courtyard widened as I moved further in. A fountain in the center caught the sunlight, water dancing over the edges and sparkling. Birds chirped above, perched along the stone ledges. I passed under an archway framed with ivy and slowed to take it all in. The campus was larger than I expected. Wide paths stretched in every direction, some leading to lecture halls, others to studios and libraries. I noticed small groups of students sitting on benches, sketching or talking quietly. Their laughter didn't feel loud, just a soft hum against the stillness of the morning.
A woman appeared a few steps ahead, standing near a bulletin board. She had a clipboard in her hand, her posture relaxed, a soft smile on her lips. I walked toward her, my boots making quiet clicks against the pavement.
"Hi," I said, my voice calm. "I'm new here. Do I need to go somewhere first?"
She looked up, her smile widening slightly. "Yes, of course. I'm Maren. I usually help new students find their way. I can show you around if you like."
"Perfect, I'm Julien Grayson. Art department." I replied, tucking my schedule securely under my arm.
She gestured toward one of the paths leading deeper into the campus. "Follow me. The main office is this way, and then I'll show you the art department."
I followed, my eyes roaming over the buildings as we walked. The library was tall, with wide windows letting sunlight flood the interior. The cafeteria had a small garden in front, benches scattered around, and students moving in and out. I noticed a few students carrying canvases and sketchbooks, their hands smudged with paint or charcoal. I felt a familiar pull of excitement.
"So, you're from a pack, right?" she asked, glancing at me with curiosity. Is she asking me if I'm a rogue?
I nodded slowly, keeping my pace steady. "Yes. Grayson's pack."
Her eyes widened slightly, as if she recognized something important. "Wait… you're the Alpha's son?"
I nodded again. "Yes. Papa's the head Alpha."
A small laugh escaped her lips. "And your head Alpha… is an Omega?"
I chuckled, the sound soft but confident. "Yes. My dad is an Omega. And he's our head Alpha."
Her smile grew wider, and she tilted her head thoughtfully. "That's… incredible. You guys must be the most unique pack I've ever heard of. And your Luna… is an enigma, right?"
I nodded proudly. "Yes. Pops is an enigma. He's our Luna."
We continued along the walkway, the stones warm beneath our feet. She pointed out the buildings on either side, explaining what they were used for. Each building had its own character: tall, imposing walls for lecture halls, wide windows spilling light into art studios, and courtyards lined with trees. A few students passed by, some glancing at me, some absorbed in their own worlds.
She led me down a side path toward the art building, the faint sound of water from a nearby fountain following us. "I'll show you the classrooms first, then you can find your studios," she said.
We moved slowly, step by step, letting the space and light of the campus sink in. Birds called from the trees, and a gentle breeze moved through the courtyards. The world felt calm, measured. Each building, each path, each sound had its place.
Eventually, she gestured toward a group of students sitting on benches in front of a studio. "That's where most of the art classes start. And over there," she nodded toward a tall building with wide glass windows, "is where the painting studios are."
I nodded, taking mental notes. "Perfect. Thank you."
"You're welcome," she said with a soft laugh. "We'll stop by the main office after this so you can get your ID and official schedule, because they changed the one in your hand. But for now, I wanted you to see the buildings first. Helps with getting your bearings."
I smiled, the schedule tucked under my arm. "Makes sense."
We walked a few more steps in silence, letting the campus settle around us. The sounds of students moving, talking, the faint rustle of leaves overhead—it all felt easy, natural.
"So," she said finally, glancing at me. "Do you want to meet some people? Or do you like staying alone? I can introduce you to my friends, and then later to my boyfriend."
I nodded, keeping my pace steady. "Sure. Sounds good."
Her smile widened, and as we approached the group of students, I felt a quiet confidence settle over me. Step by step, everything felt… right. The campus, the people, the rhythm of the day.
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I followed Maren into the cafeteria, the warm smell of coffee and baked goods wrapping around me. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting golden squares across the polished floor. Tables were scattered in neat rows, some occupied by students chatting quietly, others studying, sketchbooks and laptops open. The clink of cutlery and soft hum of conversation filled the space, a comfortable background that made the place feel alive without being overwhelming.
Maren led me to a table near the back, where a couple of students were already sitting. She pulled out a chair for me and gestured toward the others.
"Julien, this is my boyfriend, Kieran, and his friend Lila. They're in my painting class and this Julien, guys. He's new."
I slid into the chair, keeping my posture relaxed. "Nice to meet you both," I said, my voice calm, steady.
Kieran smiled and nodded. "Nice to meet you, too, Julien."
Lila gave a small wave. "Hey."
Maren sat next to me, her eyes bright. "So, Julien, tell them about your art. What kind of stuff do you like to do?"
I leaned back slightly, tucking my sketchpad under my arm. "Mostly painting and sketching. I like trying different styles, experimenting with color and form. I just like seeing what I can create."
Kieran's eyes lifted in curiosity. "That's cool. I'm more into digital, but I respect traditional art. Takes patience."
I shrugged lightly. "Patience is part of it. But it's also fun. That's why I stick with it."
Maren smiled, clearly pleased with the conversation. "You're going to fit in just fine. We've got a few people in the department who love painting as much as you do."
I nodded, letting my attention drift slightly as I sipped my coffee. The warmth spread through me, grounding me, letting me feel at ease.
Then Kieran leaned back in his chair, resting an arm on the table. His tone shifted slightly, curiosity sharpening. "So, you're a Grayson, right? Your pack is pretty popular… I heard you guys have been having some trouble. A rogue attack, right?"
My smile vanished almost immediately. The coffee cup paused halfway to my lips as I looked at him, eyes narrowing just slightly. "Yeah," I said quietly, my voice steady but tense. "We're getting attacked. We don't know why. We don't know who."
He frowned, leaning forward. "But… your pack is so peaceful. Why would anyone target you? There are plenty of violent packs that fight with others. Why Grayson's?"
I took a slow sip from my cup, feeling the warmth but not letting it comfort me. "I genuinely don't know," I said. My fingers tapped lightly on the ceramic, a quiet rhythm against the tension growing in my chest.
Maren's voice joined in, softer, almost apologetic. "Everyone's talking about it. They say it's some bloodthirsty rogue. Really… dangerous."
I blinked, letting her words sink in. "Bloodthirsty?"
She nodded. "Yeah. They said he's strong… strong enough to have killed over a hundred wolves by himself. Some even said they saw a darkness radiating from him, like… something unnatural."
I set my cup down slowly, my fingers lingering on the edge. Darkness. Killed over a hundred wolves alone. The words repeated in my mind, echoing, twisting. I heard about this rogue more times than I can count, but I never actually realized how dangerous he is because I've been surrounded by my parents, who always make sure to make everything seem okay, but now, hearing people from other packs talking about the rogue, it set an alarm in my head.
I didn't want to think about it too deeply, but I couldn't stop.
I felt a tight knot in my stomach, a mix of fear and frustration. For my pack. For my dads. For my brothers. For everyone I cared about. And yet… it wasn't my responsibility. Not directly. Still, it pressed against me, the helplessness creeping in at the edges.
I stared at the table for a moment, letting the murmur of the cafeteria surround me. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to stop it, or even where to start. And for the first time that morning, a small shadow of doubt crawled into the edges of my mind.
The conversation around me continued—Maren chatting softly with Kieran and her friend, the sound of laughter and casual remarks—but I was elsewhere. Thinking. Worried. Watching the space in front of me, imagining the rogue moving silently through the woods, leaving destruction behind.
And I realized how little I knew. The weight of it pressed against me, quiet but insistent. And I couldn't shake it.