— — Senya — —
I knew he could tell.
Raiven's eyes lingered on me a second too long, his voice slower, softer—like he was giving me space to speak first. But I didn't. I couldn't.
The letter burned inside my satchel like it had a pulse—like it was alive and begging to be freed. I had promised myself I'd tell him after the Vault ritual. Then after the vision. Then… maybe tomorrow. But then he mentioned the message he'd received—the one claiming he'd destroy the Zyres.
And I froze.
I felt the blood drain from my face. I masked it quickly with a laugh, but it sounded brittle and foreign, like it belonged to someone else entirely. My fingers twitched. I stared down at my boots, shifted my weight back and forth, anything to avoid his gaze. Because if I held it too long, I'd break. I'd spill everything. The letter. The curse. The warning.
But Raiven didn't need more weight. Not now. Not ever. His shoulders were already fraying at the edges, even if he didn't let it show.
"Senya," he said, voice low but firm. "What aren't you telling me?"
I hesitated. One heartbeat. Then another.
"I—I didn't mean to hide it," I whispered, each word dragging itself out. "I just didn't know if I should tell you… especially after everything that's happened."
He leaned in slightly, the way he always did when trying not to startle a wild animal. "Tell me now."
There was something in his voice that made my legs steady again.
With shaking hands, I reached into my coat and pulled out the letter—a small, folded piece of parchment, worn and weathered with age, its seal pressed with a symbol I didn't recognize but couldn't forget.
"When I left school last week... you know how we're allowed to leave, right? It's strange. Most schools keep students locked in, but Veyla's different. We get freedom—too much of it sometimes. You'd think it was a gift, but half the time it feels like a setup. Anyway, this was just waiting in my room when I got back."
He took it from me carefully. His name was etched on the back. Not printed. Not scrawled. Etched—like someone had taken the time to carve it into the Fibers.
"I was going to tell you after the Vault ritual, but then the call happened… and now this."
Raiven's eyes scanned the seal. "This isn't forged. It's real."
A chill clawed its way down my spine.
"Who gave you this?" he asked, suddenly urgent.
"I don't know." My voice cracked. "But the message inside… Raiven, it talks about you. It says you're destined to break something ancient. That you'll bring ruin unless you choose differently."
I hated how small I sounded. I was supposed to be strong—a Wair Cat, a fighter—but with him, I always felt… seen. And that terrified me more than any prophecy ever could.
"I've been having dreams," I continued, "and visions. The Vault. That voice in the sky. And now this. They're all connected; I can feel it."
Raiven looked down at the letter in his hand. "Why me?" he murmured, almost to himself.
I stepped closer. "Maybe because you're the only one who can stop it, too."
I hoped it sounded encouraging. I feared it sounded like a curse.
— — Raiven — —
It began with a ripple across the northern defence shield—a subtle tremor in the air like thunder just beneath the skin of the sky. Everyone felt it. Even those not attuned to the old ways.
Seconds later, the floating comm-disc appeared overhead. A polished obsidian ring, pulsing with energy from a bygone age. It was a symbol of diplomacy. Of control. Of warnings.
A chill ran down my spine.
And then, it spoke.
"We demand the surrender of all hybrids within the school grounds within the next thirty minutes. Refusal will force us to take extreme measures."
The voice was calm. Too calm. Crisp and elegant, but hollow—like it had been practiced for centuries. The voice of a race that believed fear was beneath them. Vampires. Arrogant as ever.
But this wasn't just bluster. This was a declaration.
The director didn't respond. Neither did the Council. No debates. No diplomacy. No time.
We don't betray our own at Veyla Academy. Not for threats. Not even for peace.
So we gave them silence.
And silence, as it turned out, was all the answer they needed.
The sky dimmed. Not completely, but enough to cast a veil over the grounds. The kind of twilight that made you feel like the sun might not return.
And then they came.
Vampires—dozens of them. Cloaked in their usual black, like moving shadows. Their feet never touched the ground. They hovered, watching us like predators.
But we didn't scatter.
We moved.
Defence protocols kicked in. Students and staff—though let's be honest, the staff mostly barked orders from the sidelines—formed rings of defence.
Sera was already at the far barricade. Nyra fell into formation like she was born for it. Senya's paws emerged, claws glinting.
We weren't just students.
We were heirs of power. Children of war. Soldiers forged in silence.
We didn't just train. We remembered.
They underestimated us. And that was their first mistake.
— — Jason — —
I never expected war to be the reason I'd have to transfer schools.
Then again, I never expected to survive this long.
Being a Varlac—half vampire, half werewolf—meant I was everyone's problem. Too much of one thing to be the other. To vampires, I was filth. To werewolves, I was unstable.
A living contradiction.
I still don't know how my parents ever fell in love. What broke in the world to allow that? Because the moment I was born, everyone wanted me dead.
And they made sure I knew it.
Silver dust in my food. Scratched threats on my bedroom wall. I grew up with betrayal, not lullabies. I stopped asking "why me" around the age of nine.
So, when the Vampire Council announced the purge—when they declared all hybrids an abomination—I ran.
They called it exile. I called it a second chance.
Veyla Academy took me in. As a student. Which was kind of risky because the just stepped on the vampire's feet.
Raiven didn't look at me like the others did. He looked at me like I was a code he wanted to break. And for some reason, I trusted that.
But I kept my distance. I didn't want to give them another excuse to fear me.
Then the sky darkened.
Then the vampires came.
And suddenly, neutrality wasn't an option anymore.
A girl went down—barely sixteen, not even in full control of her elemental stream yet. She collapsed near me, eyes wide with terror.
I moved. Instinctively.
My claws tore free. The heat of the wolf and the ice of the vampire warred inside me—and I let them. I didn't care if I belonged to either side.
The first vampire didn't even see me coming.
Because they'd never fought a Varlac before.
I didn't fight for the Academy. Or for my bloodlines. I didn't even fight for myself.
I fought for the boy I used to be. The one who just wanted someone to look at him without disgust.
And for once, I wasn't fighting to survive.
I was fighting to belong.