The world was warm and muffled... like sound wrapped in cotton.
She couldn't open her eyes yet, but she heard them.
Voices.
Low. Tense.
"I know what I saw, Aeron. That girl cracked an active cursed object without a trigger word or sigil. That's not shifter magic. That's not even magic. That's something else." Professor Malloran whispered.
His voice was shaking — just enough for her to hear it. He added a second later, "You said she had a wolf. But something like that should be— dealt with—before she becomes dangerous."
Did he mean…? Nova's heart sank. Why did she have to touch that stupid chain? It wasn't like she wanted to touch it… but it pulled her.
Someone growled.
Not softly. Not subtly. A low, unmistakable warning — from a chest far broader and more lethal.
"Say another word like that about her and I will personally drag you out of this pack by your tongue."
The voice was rough. Deep. Familiar in a way she couldn't place — like a shadow that had always stood between her and the worst of the cold.
Malloran went very, very quiet.
"Leave. Now," the voice commanded.
Footsteps. Fast and retreating.
Then a third voice — calm, smoother, but still edged with steel.
"Elias, alert me the moment she wakes. I want full bloodwork. Magical resonance readings. And keep her hydrated. I've already notified Finric. He won't be able to return until later today." Aeron said.
Nova recognized that voice. It was the Mage who had healed her in the tower.
"She's burning up again," Elias murmured. "It's not normal. Her wolf isn't responding the way it should."
Nova tried to move her head. Her body wouldn't listen. But then—
She felt it.
A hand, calloused and warm, brushing her cheek.
Gently. With care.
Her eyes fluttered open.
The light was soft. The ceiling unfamiliar. Her head swam, and for a moment she had no anchor—
Until she saw him.
Young. Strong. Striking enough to steal the breath straight out of her chest — sharp jaw, tousled dark hair, hazel eyes flecked with something warm and unmistakably wild.
And he was staring at her like she'd done something impossible just by breathing.
"You're awake," he said quietly.
He didn't move his hand.
She didn't notice he was touching her until he did — until the awareness hit both of them at the exact same heartbeat.
His hand snapped back like he'd touched a forge. He straightened so fast it looked rehearsed, cleared his throat, and tried to arrange his face into something that wasn't complete panic.
"Sorry," he said. "That was— yeah. You don't… know me."
He flashed her a grin — charming, lopsided, absolutely trying to cover the fact that he'd frozen like a statue.
Nova blinked at him, disoriented but steady.
"I'm Jax Thorne," he said. "Gamma of Shadowclaw. Resident voice of reason. Occasional bad influence. Depends who you ask."
She just stared at him.
And for some strange reason, she didn't feel afraid.
Because his eyes — gods, his eyes — they weren't hungry or calculating or cruel.
They were steady. Warm. Fiercely alive.
"I'm… glad to finally meet you," he said, softer now.
Her brow furrowed slightly.
He lifted a brow. "You were unconscious the last two times we met. Not my fault, before you blame me."
She blinked again.
He held up a hand as he counted them off.
"First time? Chained to a tower wall. Terrible hospitality. Zero stars."
"Second time? You passed out in a room full of kids and cursed iron. Also zero stars."
She said nothing — not because she was frightened, but because something inside her stirred. She remembered a voice — firm, protective. Carrying her. Touching her cheek. Holding her like she mattered.
Nova studied him again.
This boy — man, really — the Gamma. High-ranking. Respected. Strong enough to crush bones and command troops. And yet… he looked like he was nervous she might reject him.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Just two words. Quiet. Almost fragile.
But she said them like they meant everything.
And Jax… stilled.
Like something inside him had gone still.
His wolf stirred — not violently, not loud, but deep — a low hum beneath his ribs, ancient and attentive. Like the sound of ice cracking on a frozen lake.
He stared at her. Couldn't look away.
Something about the way she looked up at him — blonde almost silver-hair, still glowing faintly beneath her skin — it was magnetic.
Mate. The word was nowhere in his mind, but everywhere in his blood. He paused thinking, did his wolf just say Mate? His mind was playing tricks on him again.
He didn't move.
"You're welcome." He said and before he realized what he was doing, he touched her cheek.
The moment stretched between them — silent, charged, soft in a way that made Nova's chest ache.
Then—
A creak of a door broke the silence.
"I've got strict orders from Aeron and, unfortunately, I follow those about as well as anyone else in this damn keep," Elias announced as he pushed the door open with his hip. "Oh good, you're awake. Saves me the trouble of poking you with something sharp."
Jax stood up immediately, shoulders squaring in that Gamma trying to look casual but failing completely way. He stepped back when Elias brushed past him, though the reluctance was obvious.
Nova pushed herself upright, slow and careful. The room tilted. Jax's hand twitched as if ready to catch her — but she steadied before he needed to.
Elias held out a cup.
"What is it?" she asked softly, eyeing it like it might bite.
"A delightful concoction I like to call 'stop flirting with death.'" Elias dropped into a chair beside her bed, scribbling something onto a board. "Herbal infusion. Fever's still chewing on you. Drink it, sleep, and if the gods show mercy, you won't erupt into silver light again and send poor Malloran into pissing himself.."
Nova blinked.
"Yes, you did that Moonveil." Elias said without looking up. "Very dramatic. Very luminous. Very inconvenient for my schedule."
Nova flushed, lifting the cup with both hands. The smell hit her — cinnamon, burnt sage, and something medicinal that threatened violence. She winced as she sipped.
Elias noticed. "Swallow. It's not poison. If I wanted you dead, you'd never taste it."
That should have been comforting.
He turned a page on his chart. "Once that's finished, you're going back to your quarters. Rest. That's an order. Ignore it at your peril — I collect patient stupidity like a hobby."
She nodded silently.
"Can she walk?" Jax asked, voice low, gaze never leaving her.
Elias snorted. "Yes, Gamma, she can walk. Her legs still function. Her brain is the one doing interpretive dance." He closed the chart with a snap. "Fresh air will help. No need to keep her unless she starts glowing again and levitating."
Jax blinked. "She can do that?"
"That's what I'd like to find out," Elias said, giving Nova a pointed look. "Next time you decide to become an airborne lantern, do it in my infirmary. I hate missing the interesting patients."
Nova placed the empty cup aside, cheeks warm.
She shifted, testing her legs, and Jax stepped forward without thinking — close enough to catch her if gravity betrayed her.
"I'll walk you back," he said softly.
Nova hesitated… only a heartbeat.
Then she nodded.
Elias waved them off with exaggerated exhaustion. "Yes, yes, escort the glowing girl. Try not to faint, either of you. It reflects poorly on my reputation."
Jax ignored him.
Nova tried not to smile.
Elias absolutely noticed — and smirked to himself the moment their backs were turned.