Morning light streamed weakly through the blinds, golden against the damp air left by last night's storm. Ryan sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, listening to the muffled sounds of life waking up around campus—the shuffle of feet in the hall, the hiss of showers turning on, the low hum of conversation drifting faintly from the kitchen.
For once, no monsters lurked in the shadows. No trials waiting in his inbox. No system alerts screaming in his head.
Just… life.
It almost felt unreal.
He stayed there for a while, soaking it in. The rhythm of ordinary mornings. The kind of quiet he used to take for granted. He found himself wondering if maybe this was what normal students got every day—worrying about exams or food, not survival and prophecy.
The common kitchen was already buzzing when Ryan walked in. The smell of fried eggs clung to the air, toast popped from a temperamental toaster, and the sound of Ethan humming—loud and out of tune—dominated the room.
Ethan was at the stove with a spatula in one hand and his phone in the other. Somehow, he was managing to flip eggs while scrolling memes. Maya sat at the table restringing her bow for the third time in as many days, her brows furrowed in concentration.
Ryan grabbed a seat opposite her. "That bow's going to snap if you keep fussing with it."
Maya didn't look up. "It helps me think."
"You could think with food," Ethan chimed in, shoving a plate toward her with exaggerated flair. "Eat. Or Ryan'll glare at me for letting you starve."
Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Since when am I the mother here?"
"Since you started scowling like one," Ethan shot back with a grin.
Ryan tried to glare harder, but it crumbled halfway into a smirk. Something warm hummed in his chest—soft, steady. The resonance. It threaded through the moment, smoothing the edges of his nerves, weaving comfort between them. He watched Maya's shoulders ease as she finally gave in and took a bite of toast.
For a few minutes, they weren't wolves or hunters or potential soldiers in a prophecy. They were just… friends sharing breakfast.
Later, Aria dragged Ryan out to the training field. She called it "casual practice," but after half an hour Ryan was dripping with sweat, shirt sticking to his back as her blade whistled past his ear.
"You're too cautious," she said, circling him with predator grace. "An Alpha can't hesitate."
Ryan swung back, claws sparking against her blade. His arms ached, but adrenaline kept him moving. "And getting my arm chopped off isn't cautious?"
Aria's smirk was maddening. "It's realistic."
Her blade cut low, and Ryan barely ducked in time. He felt the wind slice past the tip of his hair. For a moment, his pulse raced too fast, panic flashing—but then the resonance in his chest steadied him. The rhythm came back. Attack, defend. Step forward, not back.
Despite himself, Ryan laughed. Not because the fight was funny—it wasn't—but because it was the first time in days his head wasn't a mess of prophecy and fear. In that ring, it was just him and Aria, blade and claw.
When she finally stepped back, she tossed him a water bottle. "Better. You're learning to trust your instincts."
Ryan leaned on his knees, gulping water. "Or you're just going easy on me."
Her smile was brief, sharp. "Don't flatter yourself."
But her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer than necessary, and Ryan realized something important. Aria wasn't just training him to fight. She was teaching him to believe in himself—to stop seeing his claws as a curse and start seeing them as his own.
By afternoon, the rain had cleared, leaving the campus drenched and shining, puddles glittering like coins across the pavement. The library was crowded, students hunched over books, but Ryan managed to claim a quiet corner.
Ethan plopped into the seat beside him, dropping a mountain of papers that nearly toppled Ryan's notes. Maya followed, sliding into the opposite chair with the kind of care that made the books look even messier by comparison.
Ryan actually tried to study for once, but Ethan was a distraction factory.
"If you were a wolf," Ethan whispered dramatically, "what breed would you be? I call husky."
Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose. "We're not doing this."
"Maya's definitely a red wolf," Ethan continued, completely ignoring him. "Quiet, mysterious, secretly plotting to kill us all."
Maya bit her lip, clearly fighting a smile.
Ryan sighed, but warmth tugged at the corners of his mouth anyway. The system whispered faintly in the back of his mind.
[Bond Strengthened: Ethan.][Status: Potential Pack Member—Developing.]
His pen froze over the page. A rush of heat filled his chest—not fear this time, but realization. This was how it began. Not through battles or bloody oaths. But through stupid questions in a library, laughter over nothing, quiet moments that stitched people together.
A pack wasn't declared. It was lived.
By nightfall, the courtyard smelled of wet grass and smoke. Students lit small bonfires—a tradition after storms, meant to "burn away bad luck."
Ryan sat cross-legged near the flames, the warmth licking at his face. Ethan sprawled beside him, tossing burnt marshmallows like offerings to the fire. Maya sat with her bow across her lap, polishing the wood as though it were alive. Aria lingered a step away, arms folded, gaze steady as ever.
Sparks floated upward, vanishing into the dark sky.
Ethan passed Ryan a marshmallow skewered on a stick. It was blackened beyond recognition. "Food of champions."
Ryan grimaced. "Food of murder victims."
"Eat it," Ethan insisted with mock solemnity.
Ryan took a bite, instantly regretted it, and nearly choked. Maya's laugh bubbled out, soft but real, like sunlight breaking through clouds.
For a while, they just sat there. No system messages. No monsters. Just firelight painting their faces, laughter drifting in the night. Ryan glanced at each of them—Ethan with his ridiculous humor, Maya with her quiet determination, Aria with her unwavering resolve.
And he felt it again—the resonance, stronger than before, pulsing in time with his heartbeat, reaching out to weave invisible threads between them.
The system chimed quietly.
[Objective Progress: Gather Your Pack.][Current Pack Bonds: 3.]
Ryan stared into the flames, heart thudding against his ribs. Three. It wasn't much. But it was a beginning.
And for the first time since the Blood Moon Festival, the future didn't feel like a curse waiting to crush him.
It felt like something he might actually be able to build.
Something worth protecting.