The whispers no longer lived in corners. They marched openly through the halls, voices raised without shame.
"She's no wolf at all."
"Did you see how the shadows bent to her? That's not pack magic."
"My father says the Academy will demand proof. She'll have to submit."
Elara felt their eyes following her like knives. Every step she took down the marble corridor was a trial. Students didn't flinch away anymore....they jeered, spat accusations.
"You don't belong here."
"You're filth among bloodlines."
"Darius only keeps you as a pet."
The last words cut deepest, but Elara kept her head high, refusing to let them see her flinch.
Her stride faltered only when she reached the entrance to the Great Hall. The carved oak doors loomed before her, and beyond them, silence. Not the casual hush of mealtime, but a silence that waited to devour.
She pushed them open.
Every table turned.
At the head table, the F4 lounged as always. Kael's smirk widened at the sight of her, like a predator savoring the hunt. Valen's eyes gleamed with cruel amusement. Cassian studied her with his strategist's stillness, calculating what use she might be....or what ruin.
And Darius… Darius leaned back in his chair, one hand resting on the armrest like it belonged to him alone. His gaze pinned her instantly. Not warm, not gentle. Possessive.
The silence broke.
"Prove you're wolf."
"Bleed for us."
"Or admit it...you're a fraud!"
A voice rang out stronger than the rest, a girl with golden hair standing on the bench. "The Academy deserves purity! We won't be tainted by her cursed blood!"
The hall erupted into cheers and snarls of agreement. The chant rose:
"Test her! Test her!"
Elara's throat went dry. Her hands clenched at her sides, nails biting into her palms.
Then, from the far side of the hall, Cassian's voice cut through the noise.
"Fools."
The word sliced sharper than steel. All eyes turned as Cassian rose from the shadows of the second table, his expression unreadable, his posture deceptively relaxed.
"You chant like pups who've forgotten the world's oldest law: what bleeds in darkness can still rule in light."
Confusion rippled, but silence followed. His eyes found Elara's, steady, cool. "They'll call for your bloodline. They always do when they're afraid." His gaze shifted across the hall, daring anyone to deny him. "And they are afraid."
The crowd bristled but said nothing.
Then Darius rose.
No words. Just motion.
The hall stilled like prey sensing a predator's lunge. His chair scraped against the stone, echoing louder than the chanting ever had. He stepped down, each stride controlled power, until he stood beside Elara.
Golden eyes swept the crowd. "Enough."
The single word slammed through the room like thunder.
Silence.
"Her bloodline is mine to question. Mine to claim." His voice wrapped the hall in steel. "Anyone who doubts her, doubts me."
No one moved. No one breathed.
Darius turned to her then, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "But they're right. They will demand proof." His gaze sharpened. "You'll stand before the Elders by week's end."
Elara's chest tightened. "And if I fail?"
A shadow of a smile curved his lips, dark and dangerous. "Then you die. But if you succeed, you'll rise above them all."
---
Later that night, Cassian found her in the library, hidden among towers of dust-stained tomes.
"You shouldn't be here," she said without looking up.
"You shouldn't be anywhere," he replied simply. He dropped a book onto the table. Its leather was cracked, its pages lined with ancient glyphs. "This is what they'll use."
She frowned. "What is it?"
"Bloodline rites. Older than the Academy itself. Older than the packs." His grey eyes burned with a knowledge too sharp, too dangerous. "They'll cut your palm, let your blood fall into the fire. If it burns silver, you're wolf. If it burns black...."
He didn't finish.
Elara swallowed hard. "What if it burns darker than black?"
Cassian's gaze flickered, a rare crack in his composure. "Then even Darius won't be able to save you."
---
The night of the decree came swiftly.
In the Obsidian Chamber, the Elders stood in a circle around a great bronze brazier, flames flickering with unnatural light. Students and pack heirs gathered in the shadows, their murmurs low and hungry.
Elara stood in the center, her hand trembling despite her clenched fist. Darius loomed behind her, a sentinel cloaked in dominance.
"Blood speaks truth," Elder Varian intoned. "And truth will not be denied."
A dagger gleamed as it was pressed into her palm. Pain lanced as the blade bit her flesh. Drops of crimson welled and fell into the brazier.
The fire hissed.
Gasps rang out. The flames flared....then shifted, not silver, not black. A deep, violet shadow, unnatural, seared upward toward the ceiling.
The chamber shook.
"Impossible," someone breathed.
Varian recoiled, his voice cracking with fury. "This is corruption! She is no wolf!"
But Sorin leaned forward, eyes alight with fascination. "No… she is more."
The crowd erupted in chaos;fear, awe, hatred, worship.
And Elara stood frozen, the shadows licking her palm, whispering.
You are not theirs. You are ours.
Darius's hand clamped around her shoulder, grounding her.....or claiming her. His golden eyes glowed with something fierce, unreadable.
"Mine," he said, his voice cutting through the uproar. "No matter what the fire shows. She belongs to me."
The chamber fell silent once more.
But Elara knew: whatever had burned in those flames wasn't wolf. And it was waking inside her.