The applause from the Trial still echoed faintly in Aria's ears as the students filed out of the arena, the smell of dust and sweat clinging to her.
She had barely stepped toward the exit when a shadow fell over her.
"Nightshade," Kieran's voice was low, but it carried a weight that froze her mid-step
. His golden eyes flicked over her—sharp, assessing, as if he could see straight through her skin. "Stay behind. We need to talk."
The other students shot curious glances over their shoulders, whispers trailing behind them like the rustle of dry leaves
. Aria's fingers tightened around the strap of her satchel, her heart still hammering from the fight.
She wanted to demand what he meant, but as always, the words wouldn't come.
Before she could even nod, a shout rang out from the opposite gate. "Intruders! Shifted wolves—inside the grounds!"
The air split with chaos.
Howls rose in the distance, not the playful calls of students in wolf form but the deep, guttural sound of predators.
The scent of blood and wet fur hit Aria's nose, making her stomach twist.
The instructors moved instantly, shouting orders.
Students were herded toward the main gates, but the intruders were already breaking through the lower barriers.
One massive rogue—a beast with patchy gray fur and eyes like shards of ice—burst into the arena floor.
He wasn't looking at the scattering crowd. He was looking straight at her.
Aria's feet wouldn't move. Her pulse was a drumbeat in her ears. The wolf lunged.
Kieran shouted her name—sharp, urgent—but before the impact came, something inside her snapped loose.
Heat roared through her veins, a rush so fierce it stole her breath. She threw her hands up—not in fear, but instinct—and the air between her and the rogue shimmered like rippling water.
A pulse of golden light erupted outward.
The rogue was thrown back as if struck by an invisible force, crashing into the arena wall with a sickening thud.
The crowd gasped, frozen in place. Aria stood in the center of the sand, chest heaving, the golden glow fading slowly from her skin.
Silence.
Every eye was on her. Some were filled with awe.
Others with fear.
Kieran vaulted down into the arena, his boots kicking up sand as he approached.
His gaze was blazing, a storm of anger and something else—something she couldn't name.
"Aria," he said, voice low but taut, "what did you just do?"
She shook her head, trembling, because she didn't know. She had no answer.
But deep down, she felt it—this wasn't just strength.
It was the wolf inside her finally clawing at the cage.
And now, the academy has seen it too.
From the stands, the headmistress's voice cut through the stunned air. "Take her to my office. Immediately."
Kieran's jaw tightened. "She's coming with me."
The unspoken tension between them was sharp enough to cut.
And as the whispers rose again from the watching crowd, Aria realized this was no longer about fitting in.
It was about surviving whatever she had just unleashed.
Gasps rippled through the stands like wind over a field of grass.
The golden light still clung faintly to Aria's hands, shimmering before fading into nothing. She could feel the lingering hum beneath her skin, as though something had been asleep all her life and had finally stretched awake.
The rogue groaned, struggling to stand.
His claws scraped against the arena wall, splintering wood as he shook himself.
His gaze found her again—this time not with hunger, but wariness.
He lowered his head, baring his teeth in a warning snarl.
Kieran moved faster than thought. In a blur of motion, his body twisted mid-leap, and in the air his form shifted.
Where the tall, dark-haired instructor had been, now stood a massive black wolf with eyes of molten gold. His claws dug into the sand as he landed between Aria and the rogue. His snarl was a sound that made every hair on her body stand on end.
The rogue hesitated.
Kieran took a single step forward, his growl deepening, vibrating through the ground itself.
The rogue's ears flattened, and with a low whimper, he bolted toward the shattered gate.
Kieran didn't chase him.
He shifted back in a ripple of muscle and bone, striding toward her with a predator's grace.
His shirt hung open where the shift had torn it, revealing a sheen of sweat along the hard planes of his chest.
But his eyes—those eyes burned into her, fierce and unyielding.
"You," he said, his voice rough. "What was that?"
Her throat tightened.
Her lips parted, but no sound came.
She could only shake her head, gripping her trembling hands.
"That wasn't just instinct," he pressed, stepping closer.
"That was power. Ancient power."
His gaze searched hers, as though reading the truth in her silence.
The other instructors were descending into the arena now, along with several upper-year students.
The headmistress herself—tall, silver-haired, and draped in deep midnight-blue robes—moved with a commanding presence that silenced even the chaos around them.
Her pale eyes flicked over Aria once before turning to Kieran. "Bring her," she said curtly. "Now."
Kieran's jaw tightened, but he inclined his head.
Without another word, he placed a hand on Aria's shoulder—not gently, but firmly, guiding her toward the steps.
His grip was warm, grounding, but she could feel the tension coiled in him like a spring ready to snap.
The walk through the arena was a gauntlet of stares and whispers.
"Did you see—?"
"She didn't even shift—"
"That light…"
Aria kept her eyes on the ground, her heart pounding so loud she could barely hear them.
The golden glow might have faded from her skin, but it had burned itself into the memory of every person watching.
Once they reached the shadowed hallway leading out of the arena, Kieran slowed, his voice low.
"Whatever that was," he said, "you can't let them twist it against you."
She glanced up at him, her brows knitting. Twist it?
"They'll see you as dangerous," he continued, his tone clipped.
"And in this place, danger is only tolerated if it can be controlled."
Before she could form a question, the headmistress's voice called sharply from ahead. "Thorne. Now."
Kieran's hand lingered on her shoulder for the briefest moment, almost like reassurance, before falling away.
The headmistress stood at the door to her private study, the heavy oak carved with the Mooncrest crest—a full moon surrounded by an encircling pack.
Her gaze was unreadable as she stepped aside to let Aria enter.
Aria hesitated. Her pulse was still erratic, her hands still faintly tingling.
She didn't understand what had happened. She didn't know if she wanted to understand.
But as she stepped inside, she knew one thing for certain: she had just crossed an invisible line.
And there was no going back.