The night draped the world in shadows, painting the dorm in silver-blue light. Isabella lay asleep, oblivious to the stirrings of a world far larger—and far darker—than her college life.
Alpha stepped into the courtyard, the shadows bending around him like they knew better than to betray his presence. His gaze fell on her—so small, so human, so utterly unaware.
"No," he whispered to himself, low and sharp, the sound almost tasting of steel and authority. "I cannot. A human… my mate? My Luna? Never. Not her."
He moved closer, silent, his eyes drinking in her form as if memorizing her in the way only an Alpha could. Every instinct screamed at him: claim, protect, possess. But duty, pride, and fear of mockery weighed him down.
"If she turns out to be… something more… it changes nothing," he muttered, voice a dark growl. "I cannot. My family… the pack… Everyone would laugh me into the dirt. Shame… humiliation… never."
His gaze lingered on her, tracing the soft rise and fall of her chest, the way sleep softened her edges. The Alpha within him battled with the Alpha pride, and for a heartbeat, he considered letting temptation rule.
"Damn her," he hissed, teeth clenched, "for existing in my world. For tempting me. For being… human."
Isabella stirred slightly, a half-awareness brushing her mind, like a whisper of wind, a shadow across her dreams. She mumbled something incoherent, then sank deeper into sleep.
Alpha lingered, the night holding its breath with him, then stepped back. "This… this cannot happen. Not now. Not ever."
The shadows swallowed him, leaving her room untouched, the silver-blue light of night washing over her peacefully. When she awoke, the sun spilled across her bed, the world ordinary again. Nothing remained of the presence she had somehow felt—except the lingering hint of a power she didn't yet understand.
Alpha returned to his mansion, a smirk tugging at his lips, dark amusement in his eyes. "She has no idea… and that makes everything… deliciously dangerous."
The Moon hung heavy that night, swollen and pale, casting Lunaris Valley in a light that felt too deliberate—like a watchful eye rather than a silent star. Isabella stood at the window, restless, her reflection pale against the glass. The air was thick with something she couldn't name.
Behind her, Seraphina appeared suddenly—soundless, as though she had simply stepped out of the shadows themselves. She was as untouchable as always, her gown gleaming faintly like spilled moonlight.
"You're restless again," Seraphina said. Her voice was calm, but there was that familiar trace of sarcasm hidden inside it, like a blade slipped between words.
Isabella didn't turn. "Restless? No. I just happen to live in a valley where wolves think howling at 2 a.m. is a group hobby."
Seraphina smirked faintly. "You'll hear more of them soon. Tonight isn't for sleep—it's for answers."
"Answers?" Isabella let out a dry laugh. "That's interesting, coming from the one person who answers every question with riddles. Alpha. Beta. Lunaris Hall. I'm supposed to believe you without proof? What next—vampires in the basement?"
Her sarcasm was sharp, but the truth was she wanted to believe. She wanted her gnawing curiosity to end.
Seraphina stepped closer, her eyes glinting with something Isabella couldn't quite name—amusement, or maybe pity.
"Curiosity," Seraphina said softly, "is a fire. Left alone, it consumes. But when fed the truth, it burns out. And tonight… you'll see enough to silence every question you've ever asked."
Isabella finally turned to face her. "And if I don't like what I see?"
Seraphina's lips curved, not into a smile, but into something sharper. "Then you'll wish you hadn't asked at all."
The room seemed colder for a moment. Isabella wrapped her arms around herself. "So, all these years… stories of Alphas, Betas, and bloodlines… they're not myths?"
Seraphina's gaze lifted to the window, to the Moon spilling its glow across Isabella's face. "Myths are truths polished smooth by time. The Alphas, the Betas, the bloodlines—they exist. They always have. Only the blind call them legends."
There was no humor in her tone now, only certainty. The kind that pressed against Isabella's ribs like a weight.
"Then why me?" Isabella whispered. "Why keep telling me all this?"
Seraphina looked at her, and for the smallest heartbeat, her composure faltered. Then it returned, colder, sharper.
"Because curiosity is dangerous," she said at last. "And you, Isabella, are far too curious."
The silence after those words was louder than any howl outside. The Moon loomed larger, and in its glow, Isabella felt the stirrings of something she couldn't name—a truth crouched in the shadows, waiting for her in Lunaris Hall.