The Grand Hall buzzed with voices as rows of freshers packed the benches. Chandeliers swayed high above, dripping with crystal light. Banners of gold and crimson lined the walls, each stamped with the academy crest.
Tessa leaned in, whispering, "This looks like a royal coronation, not school orientation."
"More like a sentencing," I muttered.
Before she could reply, a hush fell.
The four stood at the front.
Rylan, tall and commanding. Kael, grin sharp as a blade. Darius, posture rigid, face unreadable. Lucian, golden eyes steady, gaze sweeping the hall like he owned every soul in it.
"Welcome," Rylan's voice carried, firm and steady. "You've been chosen for one reason—potential. At this academy, you'll learn whether that potential is worth anything."
Kael chuckled, stepping forward. "And if it isn't, well… enjoy the short stay."
Laughter rippled. My stomach knotted.
Lucian's eyes brushed mine. Not a glance. A weight. Heat flushed my cheeks before I forced myself to look away.
Beside me, Tessa whispered, "He was staring."
"Stop," I hissed.
The speech ended with little fanfare. Soon, instructors marched us toward stone archways leading into corridors labeled by class.
Combat 101. Of course.
The training hall smelled of steel and pine. Rings carved into the floor glowed faintly, ready for sparring.
"Pairs," the instructor barked. "You'll demonstrate skill, discipline, and restraint."
I should've known fate had a cruel sense of humor.
"Ivy Cross," the instructor called. "Aria Blackwell. Ring two."
Ivy's smirk cut like glass. "Try not to embarrass yourself, wolfless."
Tessa grabbed my wrist. "Don't let her bait you."
I stepped into the circle, throat dry.
Ivy bowed mockingly. "Ready?"
The instructor's hand dropped. "Begin."
Ivy moved first, fast. Her kick slammed toward my ribs. I stumbled back, barely dodging.
"You're slower than rumor said," she sneered.
I gritted my teeth, circling. "Keep talking. Maybe you'll convince yourself."
Gasps rose from the benches.
Her eyes narrowed. She lunged again, a punch aimed at my jaw. I ducked, countered with a shove that sent her stumbling.
The crowd erupted. Whispers. Surprised laughter.
Ivy's face darkened.
"You think that means anything?" she hissed.
She charged again, but this time claws slid from her fingers, glinting under the hall lights.
Gasps turned into shouts.
The instructor barked, "Restraint, Cross!"
Ivy ignored him, fury twisting her features.
My chest tightened. She wasn't playing anymore.
Her claws arced down, aiming straight for me.
And all I could do was brace.