Headmaster Vale's office was silent — that dangerous kind of quiet that made even the air hold its breath.
The four students stood lined up like suspects.
Lucien— tall, collected, unreadable, his gaze fixed somewhere past the Headmaster's shoulder like the world beneath him was nothing but noise.
Riven— hands shoved in his pockets, jaw tight, pretending not to care but radiating the kind of tension that made the air prickle.
Nerissa — arms crossed, chin raised, wearing that "try me" expression she wore better than any crown, but was laced with anger.
And Vanessa — visibly shaken, her head lowered as though the floor might open up and save her from the burning weight of the room.
Behind the wide oak desk sat Headmaster Aldric Vale, posture straight, his expression calm but sharp enough to flay through excuses. His presence alone was like gravity — no one escaped it.
Beside him stood Madam Aerith Lorne, every inch the regal fae: poised, silent, and cold. Her silver hair shimmered faintly, and though she said nothing, her aura pressed on their chests like invisible frost.
The air crackled. No one dared to move.
Vale finally spoke, voice low and deliberate — a sound that carried through the room like a blade being drawn.
"Would one of you," he began slowly, "like to explain why the courtyard is in ruins and why half the academy is whispering about a fight between my Alpha candidates?"
No one moved.
The clock ticked.
Somewhere outside, a wind rattled the windowpane.
Riven leaned back slightly, muttering under his breath, "Ask your golden boy."
Lucien didn't even glance at him. His eyes — sharp, dark, impossible to read — remained fixed ahead, his expression blank. He stood perfectly still, the picture of control. That unreadable calm was infuriating; it made even silence feel like mockery.
Nerissa's eyes flicked between them. Her throat burned with words she wanted to spit, but she bit them back. Vale's gaze was already heavy enough.
Vanessa shifted uncomfortably, guilt twisting in her stomach. She didn't even know what to say. Everything had spiraled so fast — one moment it was shouting, then growling, then chaos. And now, here they were, standing before the headmaster like criminals.
Vale's voice came again, colder now.
"Nothing? No one?"
He rose from his chair — not suddenly, but slowly, deliberately, as though the motion itself was a warning.
"You've destroyed half the eastern courtyard. You've frightened first years. You've broken the harmony of this academy. And all for what? To test dominance? To prove who bleeds first?"
Still, no one spoke.
Aerith finally moved — only a small step forward, but the energy in the room shifted instantly. Her tone was ice.
"Perhaps I should start calling for suspensions, Aldric," she said. "Maybe that will unseal their tongues."
Nerissa inhaled sharply. Her temper flared, but her better sense forced her to stay silent.
Lucien remained still. Riven's jaw clenched.
Vale raised a hand — calm, but firm. "Not yet, Aerith." He walked around the desk, stopping just a few feet from them.
His boots made no sound on the polished floor, but every step felt like thunder.
He stopped in front of Lucien first.
"Blackburn," Vale said softly. "You're the eldest senior Alpha in your division. I expected more sense."
Lucien didn't flinch. "Permission to speak, Headmaster?" His tone was even, cool.
"Granted."
Lucien's eyes lifted — emotionless. "It was not my intention to start a fight."
Riven scoffed quietly. "You didn't start it, huh? Funny. My jaw says otherwise."
Vale's gaze cut to Riven, and the Alpha boy fell silent immediately, though the fire in his eyes said otherwise.
Lucien's face remained unreadable. "I acted in defense, sir."
Vale studied him. "Defense. From whom?"
Lucien didn't answer.
His silence said more than words ever could.
The headmaster moved on — turning to Riven.
"And you, Fireborn. I've had enough reports about your temper to fill a tome."
Riven shrugged, feigning indifference. "I didn't throw the first blow either."
"Nor the last, I assume," Vale replied evenly. "Tell me, was the courtyard supposed to end up in shambles for a simple misunderstanding?"
"It wasn't a misunderstanding," Riven muttered. "It was a power clash."
Aerith's eyes glinted. "At Mooncrest, such clashes are beneath you."
"Tell that to your prodigy," Riven shot back, tilting his chin toward Lucien. "He acts like he's the only Alpha that matters."
Lucien's eyes flicked to him — brief, cold, cutting — and the room dropped a degree.
Vale exhaled through his nose. "Enough."
His tone was final. Even Riven went still.
Then his gaze landed on Nerissa.
"You were present," Vale said. "You could've intervened."
"I tried," she snapped before she could stop herself. Her voice was sharp, defensive.
Then she realized the weight of whom she was talking to and quickly added, "Sir."
Vale's brow arched. "Tried?"
"They wouldn't listen," Nerissa bit out, glancing sharply at both Alphas. "It was like talking to two thunderclouds. I got caught in the middle of their testosterone storm."
Aerith's lips twitched — not quite a smile, but almost. "You do have a way with words, Miss Flair."
"Thank you, ma'am," Nerissa said dryly.
Vale sighed, dragging a hand across his temple before turning to Vanessa — the only one who hadn't spoken.
"And you, Miss…"
"Vanessa," she murmured. "Vanessa Leeds, sir."
"You were the cause of the confrontation, were you not?" Vale asked, not unkindly but with quiet intensity.
Vanessa's breath hitched. "Not… exactly, sir. I didn't mean for it to happen. I tried to stop it, but—"
"—but it happened anyway," Vale finished for her. "I see."
The silence that followed was worse than any shout.
After a long pause, the headmaster turned and returned to his seat, folding his hands atop the desk. His tone, when it came again, was final — a verdict carved in stone.
"Mooncrest was founded to forge unity among the supernatural races. Yet here you stand — Alphas, heirs, leaders — tearing at each other like children." His gaze sharpened. "Therefore, you'll share in the same consequence."
Nerissa's shoulders tensed.
Riven's smirk faded.
Lucien's face remained stone.
And Vanessa's stomach sank.
Vale's voice dropped lower. "You are hereby forbidden from attending the Luna Festival."
The words hit like a whip.
Nerissa blinked. "What?"
Aerith spoke next, coolly. "You heard the Headmaster. You four will remain on campus duty during the festival. No participation. No attendance."
"But that's—" Nerissa started.
"—final," Vale cut in. His tone silenced the room.
For a heartbeat, no one breathed.
The Luna Festival — the heart of Mooncrest, the one night everyone looked forward to. It wasn't just celebration; it was tradition, memory, connection. For some, sacred. For others… personal.
And for Vanessa, it was everything she'd looked forward to since she'd been in the Academy.
Nerissa's chest tightened. She wanted to scream, to argue, to tell Vale it wasn't fair — that they didn't all deserve the same punishment. But one look at his expression killed the idea. He wasn't angry; he was disappointed. Somehow, that was worse.
Vale stood again, turning away from them toward the window. The moonlight through the glass made his silver hair glow faintly.
"Let this remind you," he said quietly, "that strength without restraint is destruction. And leadership without discipline is failure."
No one replied.
Aerith stepped forward, her tone crisp. "You're dismissed."
The four of them turned to leave.
Lucien was first — silent, smooth, untouchable.
Riven followed, jaw tight, fists clenched.
Nerissa's boots clicked against the marble, each step heavier than the last.
Vanessa trailed behind, eyes burning with unshed tears.
As the door shut behind them, Vale's sigh filled the room — weary, quiet, but full of the weight of leaders who had seen too many mistakes repeated.