No one waited for her outside the dining hall.
Aria stood at the academy courtyard's edge, the chill of the night air brushing against her skin like a ghost's whisper. The moon hung high above the treetops, casting silver light over the ancient stone buildings of Mooncrest Academy. Everything here felt larger than life. The looming towers, the echoing silence, the weight of destiny that seemed stitched into every shadow.
She adjusted her training cloak, the academy's crest heavy on her chest, and stepped toward the arena at the far end of campus.
This was her first real test.
Professor Kieran Nightborne had left her a note during dinner—three words, written in sharp, clean handwriting:
No time. No explanation. Just a summons.
Her steps were light but wary. She hadn't spoken a word to him since orientation, and yet his presence had lingered in her thoughts all day. He was a man cloaked in mystery, power, and restrained violence. The kind of Alpha other wolves deferred to without question.
The gates of the stone arena creaked open, and she slipped inside.
Moonlight streamed down through the open ceiling, falling on the sand-covered floor where Kieran already stood, dressed in dark training gear. No cloak, no pretense—just raw readiness.
He didn't greet her. Just nodded once.
"You came," he said, voice deep and steady.
She nodded in return.
"Good. I was beginning to wonder if you were afraid."
She lifted her chin slightly.
Kieran's lips twitched—not quite a smile, more a recognition. "Let's begin."
He tossed her a wooden staff. She caught it clumsily, hands adjusting to its weight. He took a matching one from a nearby rack.
Aria slipped into the first stance she remembered—knees bent, arms raised, staff angled across her chest.
"Not bad," Kieran said, circling her slowly. "You've had some training."
She didn't nod. Her eyes followed him, every muscle alert.
"But," he added, "your balance is too defensive. You're bracing, not anticipating. Attack me."
Her brows furrowed.
He pointed at her with his staff. "Now."
Aria launched forward. Her first strike was fast, direct. He blocked it with ease, spinning and catching her side with the blunt end of his staff. She stumbled, biting down on the pain in her ribs.
"Again."
This time, she struck with a flurry—left, right, downward sweep—but Kieran moved like water. Nothing she threw landed clean.
"You hesitate mid-swing," he said, tapping the edge of her weapon as she reset. "You're second-guessing yourself."
She exhaled sharply through her nose and came again, this time letting the movements flow. There was no perfect form—just instinct. And for a moment, she felt it. The quiet beneath the noise. Her wolf stirred, just beneath the surface, responding to the rhythm of battle.
Kieran's eyes narrowed. "There. That's the truth of you."
They clashed again, and this time her staff grazed his shoulder. It wasn't a victory, but it was enough to draw a flicker of approval from him.
"Better," he murmured. "Much better."
They broke apart, both breathing hard.
He paced back toward the edge of the arena. "Most students at Mooncrest rely on strength or bloodlines. You… rely on pain."
Aria flinched.
"You've been fighting your whole life, haven't you?"
She didn't answer. Her silence was its confession.
He approached again, slower this time. "There's a power in pain. But if you only ever draw from it, you'll burn out before you bloom."
She tilted her head, confused by the softness in his voice.
Kieran set his staff down and crossed his arms. "Let me show you something."
He moved behind her and gently repositioned her stance. His hands were warm, but his touch was clinical. Professional. Still, her wolf bristled under her skin, reacting to the nearness of him. Not romantically—not yet—but with a strange sense of familiarity.
He guided her arms, adjusted her elbow, and corrected her grip.
"Now swing."
She did. The strike landed true—solid and clean against the training post he placed in front of her. It rattled from the force.
Aria blinked, surprised.
"You've got precision," he said. "That's rarer than strength."
She stepped back, heart pounding.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The torches crackled softly in the background, casting long shadows around them.
Finally, he asked, "Why don't you speak?"
The question wasn't cruel. Just curious.
She looked down at her hands.
Kieran waited. And then, when it became clear she wouldn't answer, he gave a small nod of understanding.
"You don't have to," he said quietly. "But if you ever want to train properly with me, you'll need to stop hiding behind it."
Her gaze shot up, startled.
"Hiding behind silence is still hiding," he added. "And hiding keeps you powerless."
She gritted her teeth. You don't know me, she wanted to scream. You don't know what it's like to be born broken.
But somewhere deep in her chest, her wolf whispered otherwise.
He sees more than he lets on.
Kieran stepped back, retrieving his staff again. "We'll push harder next time."
She nodded once.
As she turned to leave, he called out, "Aria."
She looked over her shoulder.
"The moon chooses more than tides," he said. "It chains things for a reason. Break too early, and the pieces won't survive."
Aria didn't fully understand the meaning.
But as she stepped back into the cold air of the night, she felt something shift inside her—quiet and irreversible.
The chains beneath the moon were stirring.
And so was she.
But as she stepped back into the cold air of the night, she felt something shift inside her—quiet and irreversible.
Aria wrapped her arms around herself as the stone archway closed behind her. The warmth of the training room faded, replaced by the sharp breeze of Mooncrest's midnight chill. She walked slowly, her boots silent against the stone paths, taking the long route back to the dormitory.
Her muscles ached from the sparring session. Bruises bloomed across her ribs and shoulder, but she didn't mind. The pain grounded her. It reminded her that she'd held her own. That she had more to her than silence.
He saw me.
Professor Kieran Nightborne hadn't flinched at her silence. He hadn't pitied her. He'd treated her as an equal—no, a challenge.
And for the first time in a long while, Aria had felt like someone real.
Chains beneath the moon… His words clung to her, trailing behind her like mist. What had he meant?
The moonlight filtered through the trees, dappling the stone with pale blue shadows. Her wolf stirred faintly within, not fully awake, not yet, but alert. Curious. That same wolf had responded during the fight, pulling at her instincts, urging her movements to become fluid, lethal, alive.
She hadn't felt that since—
No. She didn't want to remember that.
Aria quickened her pace, the sharp edges of her memories threatening to spill over. Her mother's disappointed eyes. Her father turned back. Her sister's mocking laughter. The pack that had deemed her useless. Powerless. Broken.
The academy was supposed to be a new start. But even here, whispers followed her. In the halls. In the cafeteria. Even the instructors looked at her like she didn't belong—until tonight.
She reached the dormitory steps and paused, staring up at the tower's glowing windows. Most students were asleep by now. But she wasn't ready for sleep.
Her hand went to the mark at her collarbone, the faint shimmer of the Mooncrest brand etched there during orientation. Every student had one. A sign of belonging. A promise of purpose.
She had to believe that.
Inside, her room was dim, quiet—just how she liked it. Her roommate wasn't assigned yet, and that suited her fine. She tossed her training cloak on the back of the chair and stood by the window for a moment, looking out over the forest.
From this height, she could almost imagine freedom. No voices. No rules. Just her and the wind.
But her thoughts drifted back to the training arena. To the moment when her staff connected with Kieran's shoulder. The surprise in his eyes. The flicker of pride. She hadn't won, but she'd earned that look.
And something else lingered—his presence. Not just his power, but the way it seemed to settle around her like a shield. Not smothering, but anchoring.
That frightened her more than anything.
Aria sighed and pulled off her boots. The soreness in her limbs was spreading, a slow throb of exhaustion.
She climbed into bed and lay staring at the ceiling, her mind a tangle of thoughts and unspoken questions.
What did he see in me?
Why did he want to train me alone?
Why did my wolf respond to him like that?
Sleep crept over her slowly. And just before she surrendered to it, a final thought slipped through:
He said hiding behind silence makes you powerless.
Her fingers curled around the edge of her blanket.
She didn't want to be powerless anymore.