The day I'd been dreading was here.
I was being shipped off to Azyrath University, a school veiled in glamour and arcane ancestral magic. Where legacies bleed with prestige and wealth is unassailable.
Located in the city of Thorns, surrounded by the elite, but shielded by wards deep within the woodland area, sanctified and ruthless. Where monsters are born and revered.
I had begged.
Rebelled...
Cried...
Groveled. But my parents? Unshakable.
Stonecold.
They were feeding me to the wolves, and I was the black sheep, already raw from shearing.
They said it was for my own good.
That they had my best interests at heart.
But it felt like they were only interested in pushing me past the breaking point.
I had to leave behind Floren—my best friend and the only fae who'd ever made me feel like I wasn't some cursed thing stitched into the seams.
An abomination...
My whole world was unraveling.
And I was burning with it.
All I wanted was my freedom. Yeah, I've fucked up a few times—more times than I'd probably confess.
I knew they were disappointed....
But I didn't think they'd exile me like this.
3 days ago, I still thought I had 2 weeks to say goodbye.
But my parents had already sent off my records, already carved my name into the Azyrath ledger.
Signed, sealed, delivered in fae blood.
Like a goddamn blood oath.
They'd planned this behind my back, whispering my inevitable departure like damn immigration officers. Plotted every step while I laughed at Florens jokes and dilly-dallied in the woods on side-quests.
And now, I was the clown walking into my own circus.
Assholes.
I barely managed to say goodbye to Floren; I was still stuck on the fact that I was leaving—still choking on the idea that I might not see his goofy-ass face and crooked goat horns every time we hung out.
I clung to him like a brother— Because for most of my whole life, he'd been the closest thing I had to that.
Saying goodbye felt like severing a limb.
Ripping off a piece of myself and tossing it into the void.
I promised video calls.
Updates...
Rant sessions.
Visits during the holidays...
But how far was Winter Solstice?
How long until summer came crawling?
I wasn't ready to leave.
God, I wished it was still July.
Not to mention Auntie and her damn herbologist declaration.
That boy was going to crash and burn.
His dream of becoming a powerful mage was shredded like confetti, torn and flushed down the drain.
And now I was gone too.
Who would he lean on when the world started caving in?
How would he survive under his mother's otherworldly expectations?
when he was already folding beneath them—
still lying about our whereabouts like he wasn't 19.
Still pretending her shadow didn't haunt him.
He was brave... But Auntie Amara was stricter than a curved vow. The kind that binds bone to consequence.
We were no longer kids. But push them too far, and they'd force-feed us our greens like we were three.
I closed my eyes as the train hissed and steamed ahead, carving its way toward whatever fresh hell this new life was supposed to be.
I'd done some research; apparently the school was more diverse than most, with dragons, demons, werewolves, and ruthless fae with blue blood and claws like switchblades.
And then there was me.
Half fairy, half angel, two bloodlines that didn't even speak the same language.
Too soft for the monsters.
Too strange for purebloods.
Too withered for magic.
Guess I missed the memo...
I was riding a train bound for damnation, or fate carved in ruin.
There was no gold in my bloodline. I wasn't born into wealth. Sure, lower middle class was considered decent—but I wasn't raised to be superficial. These fae...they were gods among servants.
I wasn't well-off. I'd survived. My parents worked hard.
We lived in a town full of lesser fae—
most of us looked human... Blended in. Faded out.
It's kind of hard to disguise yourself around fae who actually look like fae. What was waiting for me here? I'd lived my whole life in the shadows... How could I ever learn to walk in the sun?
Would I make friends?
I'd only grown up with woodland fae.
Would I find a place?
Would I get to see Floren again—soon? Before the ache got worse?
I just wanted it to be over already.
The waiting.
The leaving.
The becoming...
Whatever the fuck this was supposed to be.
***
I hopped off the train and texted mom asking her who'd be carrying my coffin when this all went south.
She didn't like that joke.
Said I was overreacting.
But when my feet hit concrete instead of grass...
I swear I felt chains wrap around my ankles.
This city spoke of freedom... But freedom wasn't built behind stone walls and wards in a city of thorns.
I could barely drag a breath in.
That's when she showed up.
6'4, honey blonde curls cascading over sharp shoulders.
Long legs stretched beneath a pencil skirt—heels tapping like she was on some runway. Then—the brightest, most blinding white teeth I'd ever seen...
"You must be Scarlett Thorne!"
Her arms shot out like an invitation I hadn't accepted.
I didn't do hugs.
I may look human... But hugs were intimate. Mama always said, Beware what fae pulls you into their embrace, because they just might sink their teeth into you.
I hardly knew this woman; this whole place was a maze. Nothing felt familiar.
"Hi."
I said curtly, stepping back, forcing a smile that tasted like grit.
"Ah... not a hugger, huh? No worries!"
Her green eyes flashed—ancient, sharp, like they saw something I was trying to hide. Not like Floren's emerald eyes—curious, soft, searching. Hers cut deeper. She didn't just look at me—she looked into me. Imposing, digging... hungry.
Her ruby-red stiletto nails clicked as she clapped her hands. Sharp enough to slice through glass. And as my eyes flickered to her wrist—I saw it.
That damned ankh symbol.
Vampire...
"My name is Julia. I'm very pleased to meet you! I'm the student advisor and consort. I came to take you to the school; orientation starts in an hour or so! We should hurry."
Her southern accent was so thick it nearly tangled my tongue.
I forced a smile and then eyed her suspiciously.
"How do I know you aren't tryna traffic me?"
Julia's eyes snapped open—shocked, horrified—then the corners of her eyes crinkled and she let out a boisterous laugh.
"Oh, honey! Aren't you the little detective! I got you on file here!"
She pulls out a tablet I hadn't realized she'd been holding—and on the screen that nearly blinds me—my name is spelled out in big, bold letters.
She whips out something from her pocket and presents her official ID card, then scrolls down on the document page to show me her job title, a small bio, and all necessary contact details.
"Your parents—Amara and Zion Thorne—they contacted me a few weeks ago. I spoke to you on the phone?"
My mouth forms the letter O as a blurry flashback of a woman on a video call flickers in my mind. I think I was too angry at Mom and Dad to pay attention back then.
As she leads me towards a big white car, I drag my heavy-ass suitcases behind me, feeling the weight in every step.
I stumble, and she quickly steps in to help.
"Here, let me help you with that."
"No, it's ok—
I try to stop her, but she's already yanking the luggage from my grasp, lifting it like it weighs nothing.
Damn, vampire strength.
I roll my eyes.
She urges me to follow her, and I do—with caution. As we approach the white van.
To my absolute relief, there's another student already in the car—thank the gods.
She's got lively monolid yellow eyes, a perky little nose, and wavy purple hair in a half-up and half-down style, complete with space buns so cute it should be illegal.
"OMG, HI!!"
She lights up the second she sees me, her grin spreading like wildfire.
"Hey."
I can't help but smile back at her, her sunshine already seeping into my bones. Sickly sweet but still appreciated.
"I love your locs—how long have you had them?"
Her eyes go wide like I just sprouted wings or I told her i'm Beyoncé's cousin.
"Uh...a few years now."
I shrug, caught off guard but kind of flattered.
"Woah... they're beautiful! And I love your piercings!"
"Yeah... they're a pain sometimes...."
I laugh, and she gasps like I just said the clouds were cotton candy.
"Beauty is pain... but you are gorgeous!"
That one hits different. I blush. She says it like it's law, like she means it, and it sticks to me like honey.
"I'm Lyra Gomez."
She sticks out her hand like we've known each other for years, but this time I take it, smiling for real.
"Scarlett Thorne."
"Woah, pretty name!"
"Yours has a better ring to it. Simple, sweet."
"Yeah, well... it's also my abuela's name... kinda unoriginal."
"Don't say that..."
I laugh, and she grins like she's been caught lying.
"What? It's true! People constantly swear we're so alike. I almost changed it."
"She must be amazing, then..."
I offer a warm smile, and her expression softens.
"She was. And thank you!"
"Of course, I'm sorry for your loss..."
"Nah, It's alright. It was years ago!"
She brushes it off, but there's still an ache behind her voice. Still, she beams again like she's practiced it... even though that quiet pain still lingers behind her bright-colored eyes.
I find myself relaxing, warming up to her even.
"So, what's your order? I'm a chupacabra."
She says it like it's no big deal, but it completely side-tracks me. I blink.
At least here... no one had to know I had no magic. I could probably lie and get away with it—but the way she looks at me—like i'm special and not withered and broken...
Fuck...
"I... um... I don't have one yet."
"Really!?"
She gasps like I just told her I don't know what pizza is.
"But your ears?"
"Yeah... my mom's a fairy, got some elf DNA... and my dad's an angel."
"You know what? that's actually badass! Half fairy, part elf, and angel blood?! That's like the holy trinity of glamour and power! I've never met anyone without a fae form or magic—must be hard. I'm really sorry."
"No... no, it's ok. I'm used to it."
She puts her hand on me, and it's the most comforting thing I've felt in days.
"Azyrath's all about self-discovery. You won't be alone. You've got me. And I'm sure your magic will show up eventually."
She says it like a promise. I smile again. Her energy is a little wild... but in the best way. Like fresh air after being locked inside too long.
We're winding deeper into the forest now; it had been 45 minutes of Lyra rambling about her chaotic family, her voice skipping between laughter and wild tangents. Every so often, she'd toss a random question my way like we were playing emotional Jeopardy.
"So have you ever been bullied before? Cause you know I'd mail my own shit to them, right?"
And I have to restrain myself from ugly crying or doing that god-awful windshield-wiper, laugh like she hadn't just ripped open a wound I thought had scabbed over and twisted it into a balloon animal.
She was funny as hell—but damn, she had to be a little neurodivergent. Loved her for it—hell, I might as well!
The road curved like a whispercoil spell, slow, sinuous—like it had a mind of it's own. Up ahead, a giant annular building rises out of the trees like it was carved there by the gods. There's a fountain out front, with a stream of golden water flowing from it.
A crowd of students had gathered, all with bags, trunks, and probably trauma.
"We're here, girls!"
Julia hops out of the car like she's storming a battlefield—not a campus parking lot. Part of me's relieved she didn't pull up to an abandoned slaughterhouse. The other part? Panicking because I'm about to face my greatest nemesis...
Forced fae interaction.
She starts unloading bags with terrifying precision, like a flight attendant after two layovers and 3 liters of coffee.
Lyra and I hop out too, just in time to see her hauling our suitcases to a massive dome where students' luggage is already stacked like tetris.
"This way, guys..."
She waves us forward, toward the crowd moving into the main building.
Fae of all types flood through the doors—fairies flitting mid-air, elves gliding like royalty, goblins cackling, satyrs dancing on hooves, sylphs whispering to each other on the breeze, and even a few ghouls looking way too chill for the undead.
We follow the stream into a grand hall. The sound of chatter echoes off the halls like a thousand spells being cast at once.
Lyra grabs my hand like we're best friends now and pulls me towards a row of stadium-style seats. We take our spots in the middle.
A moment later, a cyclops walks onstage like he owns the place. Dude is jacked, broad-shouldered, and wearing shorts and a jersey like he just came from a gym session—not leading an orientation.
But when He speaks, his voice rumbles through the air—deep, warm, and surprisingly kind.
"Welcome, students, to Azyrath University!"
The crowd roars with explosive excitement when the dean speaks.
"I am pleased to see some new and old faces. I hope your summer break was as exciting as mine— Though, full disclosure, mine involved a spontaneous trip to Solaria, and... I may or may not still be banned from three rooftops... and taverns."
He pauses, eyes twinkling with mischief—clearly reliving his misadventures in the rural city.
"But let's focus on what matters— You. You made the right decision to enroll here. So much is in store for all you brilliant little firecrackers. And I'm thrilled to see what you do with that choice."
There's another roar of enthusiastic cheers from the crowd as he continues his speech.
"Some of you may have survived summer without getting turned into newts, getting cursed by a swamp witches, banned from 3 potion markets, or accidentally summoning your dead ex— Congrats! You're already ahead of last year's freshmen. Impressive, but if you start itching in places you shouldn't be... the infirmary is in the south building. make sure to be responsible with your partners—"
The students burst out laughing—some elbowing each other with knowing smirks.
"Now, for those of you just stepping into the twisted, exciting chaos of Azyrath University, my name is Mikey Adler. I'm your dean, your advisor, and the man who's probably going to haunt your nightmares during midterms."
A dramatic pause— "I'm kidding, I'm kidding... Mostly."
"But seriously—this place, this beautiful, elite, magically deranged, gorgeous disaster of a school— It's home. And I'm honored to be your guide through the fire and walk alongside you on this wonderful journey. Together, we're here to forge brilliance, power in your veins, Fire in your hearts, and diligence in your spines."
"AU! AU! AU!"
The crowd erupts like a fountain, a thunderous applause filling the auditorium. Lyra doubles over in laughter beside me, and I join in. The promise of a new and exciting school year had students jumping in their seats like we were on a rollercoaster.
"Now, why don't we get straight to it? Firstly, I would like to state that our mission is to ensure the absolute best for our students. This is, after all, is a prestigious institution, and we take true pride in making sure our graduates leave with strength in their bones and magic in their hearts."
The students chant his quote as if commemorating and solidifying it.
"Now onto the first order of business..."
The dean grins, a mischievous glint in his eye.
"I'd like to welcome to the stage my dear friend—our vice principal, Miss Jabari Basie!"
A tall woman strides forward, her dark curls cascading down her back in puffy braids, a scorpion's tail swaying behind her with venomous grace. She thanks the dean with a nod, taking the mic from him.
"Welcome back, new students, I hope you had an amazing summer. My name is Jabari, but I'd prefer it if you called me Miss Basie. As young fae, you are all enrolled here for good reason, whether that is to explore new relationships and academic achievements, study magic, or strengthen your abilities. Or just discover who you are meant to be. Whatever your reason, our mission is simple: Help you grow, help you rise, and help you become the most spellbinding version of yourself. And if you're lucky, you might make a name worth echoing in every realm or be invited as a guest speaker alumnus!"
The crowd erupts in cheers, and I clap my hands as Lyra echoes the AU chant.
"Alright, so first things first, for our returning students, your dormitories are already set. Mentors, you should find your mentees as you prepare them for the Ascension ceremony... this will determine what tribe you will reside in for the rest of your journey."
"What's that?"
I whisper to Lyra,
"It's like a ceremony to decide if you are part of the 5 factions: earth, fire, water, air, and Luna."
"Now, I would like to introduce you to our captains for each faction!"
The crowd doesn't just roar—it screams like the whole damn place caught on fire! A ridiculously gorgeous, silver-haired boy, all sin and muscle, bursts onto the stage like living wildfire. His body is a vessel of temptation and magic, and as he starts chanting, backed by cheerleaders weaving through the crowd, setting the entire room ablaze. Every tribe member rocks a matching shirt stamped with blazing fire symbols, like they own the damn atmosphere.
"BLAZING HOTTER THAN THE STRATOSPHERE WE'LL BURN IT UP IN THE ATMOSPHERE!"
They holler, igniting the crowd as they storm the auditorium. One of the participants raises a flag high, with a pentagram burning inside a circle of runes and fire licking the edges as if it were alive.
Some of the girls jump on stage and start a cheer routine that sends the audience into a frenzy.
The boys follow—flipping through the air with wild somersaults, magic flooding the auditorium, and flames hissing—stoking the chaos like pros.
One of the cheerleaders cartwheels forward, leaving behind a trail of molten lava that dissolves into confetti and smoke.
The crowd loses its damn mind—screaming, howling, like they're witnessing a halftime show by the gods.
A guy steps forward, blowing into a trumpet of fire—and from the smoke, a phoenix rises, blazing wings behind her, glorious and untamed. She soars over us once, then vanishes in a final burst of flame.
The captain steps forward, conjuring a bouquet of roses. He tosses it toward the open ceiling—boom—the flowers explode in a rain of black petals that drift over the crowd like ash burning from a garden.
Lyra and I clap along, eyes wide, totally hypnotized by the ridiculous level of school spirit.
Two pink horns curl from the captain's platinum-blonde hair, glinting under the lights. He grins—sharp, cocky, wicked—and the crowd erupts in screams so high-pitched they sound like they're ripped from a rollercoaster from hell.
He bows, a rogue, thin tail whipping out behind him before he takes the mic from the dean—bleeding with grace and arrogance
"And that—" He says, voice booming.
"Was just a taste of what we have to offer at House of Embers. If you get in, you won't regret it. This is your fire-forged family, brothers, sisters, and everything in between. We train hard, burn brighter, and make sure every fae finds the spark in their chest and learns to wield it. It won't be easy. You will walk through fire and just might have to go through hell... and back. But we'll be blazing right beside you.
My heart skids at the insinuation—especially considering I'm part angel, the gods would snatch my ass if I even tried that—but the thought is... tempting...
He pauses, flashes a cocky grin, and winks at someone in the crowd. A banshee shrieks so loud the auditorium trembles—my ears ring as I slap my hands over them, laughing along with the chaos.
"We'll be waiting for you after the ascension ceremony... with open arms."
Lyra nudges me and snorts, "And open legs..."
I choke... nearly wheezing, biting my lip to keep from cackling like a hyena in heat.
The next tribe that takes the stage is House of Earth.
The door bursts open, and a flurry of fairies swoop in, wings fluttering, each one toting a drum as they twirl through the air like dandelions in a storm. My jaw practically unhinges when one fairy shifts mid-spin into her human form, levitating with a flick of her wrist and showering the entire auditorium with flowers. Real ones. Petals fall like confetti—spinning, swirling, catching in my hair. Lyra and I dissolve into laughter as blossoms stick to our clothes and bounce off desks like we're inside a springtime snow globe.
Then, a satyr steps forward, blowing a horn like he's summoning an army. Four giant gnomes lumber into formation—before they're magically yeeted into the air, spinning in tight spirals. Their movements stirs up a sudden gust that whooshes through the room, sending the flowers into a second wave.
And then—woosh—the fairy captain descends from above, landing barefoot on the stage.
Completely. Naked.
"Holy shit!" I gasp, slapping a hand over my mouth as a bunch of dudes in the back lose their goddamn minds—Floren would love this... probably scream "Yes, BITCH" at the diva that just showed the entire crowd her titties and ass.
Unbothered, she calmly raises a single finger and traces the air. A gown blooms across her body, petal by petal—long, silky, and floral, hugging every curve as it trails behind her like living ivy. She's unreal: golden brown skin glowing beneath the lanterns. Long blonde hair rippling down her back and eyes that seem to flirt with the entire crowd at once.
I was a faerie too—ish... But this must be what humans think of when they think of fairies. Ethereal, perfect, slender, and curvy, and goddamn her ass—I shake my head, trying not to stare too long at the way she struts—her confidence is intoxicating. It blooms. The audience eats it up, screaming, cheering, practically worshipping her.
"Sexy bitch!" Someone howls, and she just giggles—a soft, bashful thing that somehow makes it even worse. Or better. Probably both.
"We are Terra Haven—House of Earth," she purrs, her voice like honey and moss. "And I'm absolutely thrilled to welcome you into our blooming little family. May your heart be rooted in wonder, and may you grow—strong, wild, and beautiful. Life is a garden, and we can't wait to watch you flourish."
She blows a kiss into the crowd, and I swear someone screams, "Marry me!"
The next two houses are the House of Air—Elysian House—and the House of Hydro.
The House of Air's performance? Easily the most breathtaking of the night, I'm talking—goosebumps down my spine, jaw on the floor... I was awestruck.
The auditorium peeled open like a storybook sky, and down floated their members—angels with iridescent wings, griffins, owlfolk, ghosts, sprites, sylphs all descended and surrounded—him.
Their captain. Temptation draped in stardust. Dark, tousled hair; a body built like some ancient fertility deity, sculpted from thunder and ego.
And gods, the way he moved? Like gravity bowed to him, he owned the stage like it was made for him. For this moment.
One by one, they shifted into winged fae, their magic unfurling in hypnotic gusts of feathers and wind weaving through the crowd.
Then him...
Captain Sky-God shifted mid-air, bones snapping, body stretching, muscles ripping from clothes I hadn't realized were a barrier until he transformed into that white dragon.
Huge.
Ethereal. Wings broad and leathery, eyes gold and gleaming like polished rubies. The crowd lost it.
He rose into the air, majestic and terrifying, then blew out a stream of steam that crystallized midflight into ice, shattering into snow petals that rained on us like winter confetti. Winter Solstice came early, goddamn.
He hovered, beat his wings once, and used his magic to carve a chant into the sky:
"We will go where the wind takes us,
we are the breath of the sky,
faster than a beam of light—
surrender your weakness and take flight!"
Then—smoke. Silence. He vanished like a damn myth... but he looked like a prophecy.
I screamed. I fucking screamed. Everyone did.
We stood, shaken, and stared at the clouds like they'd just kissed us.
Then came The House of Hydro—and chile—if Air dazzled us, water was pure seduction.
Their performance flowed like a symphony beneath the sea: sirens and nymphs in perfect harmony, their voices braiding around gentle instruments like a tide lapping at the shore. The air felt thicker, heavier, like we'd all been pulled underwater without even noticing.
It felt like drowning and dreaming at the same time. My lungs stilled. My skin prickled.Bitch.
I forget how to breathe.
"Like the water flows, so do our hearts grow...
Glorious as the raging sea, we will set you free."
I don't know when I started crying. Maybe somewhere between the melody and mist curling around our feet. This was fae pride. Excellence in pure gold.
Fuck— Had mom and dad sent me to heaven? Had I overreacted?
By the time they bowed, my voice was wrecked, my hands were sore from clapping, and Lyra and I were staring at each other like we'd just witnessed a holy rite.
And just when I thought nothing could top that—Luna Chamber, the house of the moon, astrology, and transformation, took the stage.
As the Captain of House Luna takes the stage, the auditorium is swallowed in darkness—just for a moment—before the ceiling blooms into a velvet sky, constellations flickering into shape: Virgo, Aries, Pisces, Libra, Cancer... all glowing like silver fireflies above our heads.
My heart stops.
Somehow, they've shifted the day into full-blown night. Then the music starts—slow, haunting—and a pack of werewolves and lion shifters howl and roar at the rising illusion of the moon. The ground shudders beneath us, trembling like something ancient's just awakened. And before I can gasp, we're floating, levitating—five feet off the ground, suspended in moonlight and melody.
It's terrifying. It's bliss. I'm weightless and wide-eyed, clinging to the sound like a lifeline.
But then— It ends. Too soon.
Too early, so I forget where I am, forget I'm still in an auditorium... still magicless... as if they hadn't just tossed us into the Milky Way.
We settle back into our seats as the stars dissolve and the sky resets to morning like nothing ever happened.
"Now that you've seen what each tribe has to offer, I wish you good luck on the Ascension. All mentors, please find your freshman mentees."
Lyra turns to me, her brows pinched tight with nerves.
The brilliance and magic dissolved into anxiety and sudden realization—"What's your number if we get separated!!?"
"RH 300-200-440."
She nods and taps it into her phone, then pulls me into a quick hug.
"Good luck," she whispers.
Mentors begin flooding the stage, names getting called one by one—
"Eveline Forest!"
A fae girl sprints towards her mentor.
"Kaelo Vurn."
"Malik Ember..."
The list gets shorter, mentees pairing off like fate.
Then—
"Lyra Gomez..."
She glances back at me, eyes wide, smile tight. I give her a thumbs-up and mouth you got this, before she walks off.
"Scarlett Thorne."
My stomach flips. I rise, legs unsteady, trying to pretend I don't feel everyone's eyes on me as I descend the stairs.
Too caught up in my nerves, Thoughts spiraling, Drifting back to those damned captains—the ice dragon... I hardly notice the fae, until I'm already crashing into him—hard.
"I'm so sorry!" I stumble back, mortified.
The chest I collided with was firm, muscled and hot...
But the voice that responded was velvety and rich, with a clipped hint of spanish that sent a wave of desire down my spine.
"Too much on your mind?"
I look up. Gods.
He's tall. Lean. Broad-shouldered in a crisp black formal uniform that hugs every edge of his body like it was custom-stitched by desire itself. His gaze pins me in place—two different eyes, both unsettling. Both, ruinous. I forget how to think—breathe.
And wonder, which one do I stare at?!
The icy blue eye that makes me ponder how far I could dive into them and how quickly I'd drown, or the crimson eye that seems to hold so much dominance and authority. And just like the sexy and deep rumble of his soothing voice, he is nothing short of captivating, an unspoken command that makes my throat dry and my thighs clench.
I look up—and holy hell—He's breathtaking. Sharp jaw. Light stubble that trails down, lingering above his Adam's apple.
Was this what temptation looked like?
Lips—full, rosy and sinful.
And across the bridge of his nose and cheeks? An entire constellation of freckles. Like the damn galaxy kissed his face.
And now I'm standing here, blinking at him, mouth slightly open like a lovesick idiot. Like he's sanctity and the snake that tempted eve all at once.
And I don't even know his name yet.
"I... n-no—not really?"
I take a sharp breath as a very rich and delicious fragrance envelops me. My heart skips a beat as the aroma wraps around me, a mixture of cedarwood and something sweet and earthy like sage. It makes my head spin. It's intoxicating, grounding me to the spot, and I can't help but take another deep breath, trying to commit the scent to memory. It's as if the air itself has become a part of him, drawing me in closer despite my racing thoughts. He reminds me of morning coffee and smells of secrets hidden in silk.
"Well... if you'll excuse me."
He steps aside, passing me and leaving me utterly flustered and speechless, his scent drifting away with him.
I stumble back, watching him leave with wide eyes as I make my way to my mentor.
As I strut up the platform, like I'm not seconds from vomiting, I stop dead in my tracks.
You've got to be kidding me.
MY mentor—the one I've been dreading—is none other than Captain Silver hair himself, draped in tight black athletic leisure that clings to his body like a second skin. And those arms? Yea. Carved by ancient gods—probably arrogant ones.
"No way," I mutter.
"Well, hello beautiful."
He smiles, and it's the kind of smile that says, I definitely bite, and not in the cute, kinky way. Fangs, sharp, flashy. Douche-coded.
Demon, Vampire? Temptation personified—all venom and muscles? I can't tell. All I knew was that he was trouble.
"Excited, love?"
His eyes crawl up my body with a boldness that eliminates any lingering attraction. Did I look like I was on some supernatural menu?
My spine stiffens like hot glue—tense, sticky, seconds from snapping. He was undressing me with his eyes, peeling me like some blood orange sacrifice.
"Uhmm... y-yea?"
He studies me, pupils shrinking slightly like sunlight's reminding him he's not supposed to flirt with undergrads.
"Nervous?"
He leans in. Too close.
I laugh like I'm not seconds away from dissolving beneath the floorboards.
"A little..."
Then, with the grace of a predator in a protein ad, and the entitlement of a man who's never been told no, he grabs my arm, pulls me flush against him, and slings an arm around my waist like I'm refreshments after hours of flexing in the gym.
I have never wanted to commit a felony more.
His palm slides lower and lower until it's hovering dangerously close to my ass.
"So... what's your order, babe?"
His voice is velvet soaked in sin—sickly sweet but dripping with venom when he says "babe" like it's my government name.
"I, uh..."
My tongue turns into stale bread.
I jerk away from him like he'd already reached down my shorts—but let's be real, he probably would have if I hadn't moved. The smug bastard grins like he's about to gaslight me. Certified androgynous fuckboy.
He's too hot. Obnoxiously sexy. Someone needs to strip off his glamour... I might stand a chance at thinking clearly.
"I don't have one."
I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
His eyes flicker. "A fledgling, huh? Cute."
That smirk returns like a dead cockroach.
"Don't worry, I won't tell."
He licks his lips, like I'm an exotic delicacy he's yet to colonize.
The students are still glaring. One girl is literally snarling—and she's not even a werewolf. What is this, Mean girls meets monster high?
"Oh, baby! Forgive me, where are my manners!" He says it like it's the morning after. Sir... this is not a sex hotel. It's Orientation. Get it together.
"I meant to introduce myself."
Too late. You already introduced yourself with your hands.
"I'm Lucien Roussard."
He offers his hand like bribery, like it's not cursed.
And because I'm apparently into bad decisions, I take it. Something yanks me forward—some invisible cord of dumbass-bitch—and the second our palms meet, he reels me in like I'm a damsel and like gravity just said fuck your boundaries.
"You look good enough to eat, babe. I haven't tasted a fledgling in years..."
His fangs graze my neck like a caress, but my instincts scream, GET OFF. I jump back like he licked me—which he probably would've if I'd let him.
"What the actual fuck are you doing?"
I shove him, hard.
"Whaaat?"
He says innocently—head tilted with amusement, like I'm his favorite chew toy and he'd forgotten he just tried to bite me. He looks me over, scanning me as if he's a curator about to buy my nudes.
I wrap my arms over my chest. Suddenly, I'm feeling seen in all the wrong ways. My top's modest, sure—a high-neck tank with a cutout. The girls are sitting, but that doesn't give him permission to stare.
His eyes drop on instinct, like he's read my thoughts—bold, shameless, like my tits owed him rations.
As if I were a coyote that had just stolen their next meal, the other fae circled like vultures, sneering and whispering. He rolls his eyes at them, but I take a huge step back the instant his eyes return to me.
The last thing I needed was these fae thinking I was trying to steal their precious prince.
Freshmen start to gather, their chatter allowing me to assemble my thoughts and distracting me from his predatory gaze. Some girls practically melt at the sight of him—dreamy-eyed and breathless like he's some kind of forbidden fantasy instead of a massive red flag.
I ignore their stares, sidestepping the laser glare of jealous fangirls as I take my spot in the circle forming around the oval table. Not sure why they're drooling over being manhandled by a creep, but hey—fetishes exist, right?
One by one, the mentors step forward, plucking slips of paper from the large, wide globe sitting at the center of the round table.
"What's this?" I mutter, accepting a slip from Lucien. There's a strange symbol inked across the surface, sharp and unfamiliar.
"That's your tether," he says in a voice like rotten honey.
"It'll bring you back when you enter the portal. You'll need an anchor during the ascension. As your mentor, I make sure you don't get lost in the abyss of your mind. You'll hear my voice while you wander."
He leans in closer, his breath grazing my ear like frost.
"And don't worry, babe. I'll be with you... Every. Step. Of. The. way."
My heart skips, and not in the cute rom-com way. It feels like a stroke.
A shiver scuttles up my spine as I stumble backward—and fall squarely on my ass. Laughter echoes, students snickering as Lucien—the bastard that he is helps me up.
Fantastic.
So I now gotta deal with hot breath and sleazy innuendos from Mr.Silver hair himself.
"Students, join hands with your mentors," MIss Basie calls out, her voice syrupy and calm, like this isn't a cult initiation.
Lucien is already stepping in front of me, hand extended, lips curled like he's savoring my discomfort and letting it soak into my skin. I take his hand reluctantly, suppressing a grimace.
I hope I don't get into the house of embers...
"Close your eyes, love..."
His tone is suggestive, slithering against my spine like he wants to bury himself there. I try to step back, but his grip is firm, suffocating. Fingers caressing mine like thorns—does he realize this isn't first base? This is Orientation.
Is this normal... are we supposed to be this close?
"I call upon the earth and sky, the call of the wind and the rising flame beyond," he chants, voice low, raspy.
"I call upon the elements; may the gods grant me the power to find my true nature... May they endow me with the energy of the moon."
I hesitate, then force myself to mimic him, my voice shakier. As we chant, something shifts. The words become a rhythm, a pulse inside my head. The world dissolving into an abyss.
My thoughts slip into the fog—and suddenly I'm falling—not physically, but mentally. Slipping into a place that feels deeper than dreams. My skin burns like it's kissed by flame. Wind hisses in my ears, whispering secrets in a tongue I don't recognize.
"Follow my voice..."
Lucien's purr cuts through the fog. I flinch—his presence pressing closer, an invisible but suffocating caress. I force myself to focus on the chant, on the path—not the fact that he's pulling me closer.
"Don't stray," he whispers, and I almost shout, "What path!? But then— I see it. Up ahead, a light slices through the dark. A road, long and narrow unfurling in front of me.
"You got this, sexy."
Lucien's croons—his voice nearly steering me off the road. I trip fighting the temptation to twist the tail I know—he's hiding.
Creep.
The path is empty. Wind rustles like a cough trapped inside a vault, heat coils in my blood, and I know... I have to find something. Something's calling. Far down the road there's a siren's song tugging at my bones—soundless, ominous—It beckons me.
"You'll know when you find it. Wait for it and let it come to you."
I can practically feel his breath against my ears.
As I follow the path, an instinct seizes me—my legs picking up speed, running before my mind can catch up. It feels like chasing a melody just out of reach, like a memory I didn't realize was a premonition, the lullaby threading through the wind, coaxing me forward with invisible hands.
"Yea... just like that, babe..."
What. The. Actual. Fuck!
A shiver ripples up my spine. His voice slithers through the dark like oil in water, greasy and immiscible. I don't stop—I can't stop. My hands twitch with the urge to pull away from whatever this is, but I keep running.
The road dips.
It's steep.
Too steep—like they've tilted the scale. I scream, tumbling down the hill as my footing gives out. I slide, limbs flailing, sucked into a pit carved out of shadows. My heartbeat jackhammers in my chest as the ground devours me.
My screams are swallowed by the mist, the adrenaline flooding my bloodstream as i sink deeper into the tunnel.
Then—impact. My feet slam against the ground, terror shattering every nerve ending in my body. It's quiet now. Too quiet, and Lucien's voice is gone. And though relief flutters in my chest, dread coils in its place.
Something cold brushes against me. Thin, wispy. It wraps around my wrist like a whisper through a thornbush. It pulls me forward, freezing the breath in my lungs... and the closer I get, the colder the air becomes, until it's blinding.
Then—
"Don't fight it, babe."
No. No, no, no... I don't want him in here, in my head.
The howling crescendos. Energy slams into me like a tidal wave, numb and electric all at once. My limbs tingle with ice
"Reach for it. Reach for that power."
My hand shoots forward instinctively, searching. Grasping. Something reaches out—latching onto me. I scream, but it doesn't loosen. It hauls me upward, dragging me through thick, frosty air—until I plunge into darkness.
Freezing. Suffocating. And yet, beneath the frost.
Warmth stirs.
Not from outside, but within.
A golden ember coils in my chest, ancient and soft, like the hymn of an old lullaby carried through generations. It's familiar. Sacred.
And it feels like home.
Voices echo from beyond the veil, and Lucien's voice vanishes completely. Whispers from an ancient tongue, humming through my bones. Welcoming me home.
Then I see it—a glimmer.
No—a flame.
It doesn't burn. It sings to me.
The light pulses, rhythmic like a heartbeat locked behind a door. We've been waiting for you. We love you.
It grows, expands, bursting in my veins, surging higher and higher. Golden, bright and unstoppable.
I'm lifted.
Not by wind or water—but by will.
An ancestral force wraps around me like a cocoon, You're ready. It speaks like it's been watching me through past lives, following me like a beacon of truth...keeping me safe. It lifts me skyward, carrying me beyond the dark.
It's not fire.
It's something... more... something I can't quite explain...
A gift? A birthright? A fiery crown meant to guide or rule?
My body glows, every vein turning molten, bleeding with light and power I don't deserve... but now own.
They chose me...