St. Swithin's Academy - The Courtyard
The morning assembly was a funeral in all but name, a staged pageant of grief designed to bury the truth along with the body.
A podium had been erected in the exact center of the main courtyard, draped in heavy, suffocating black velvet that seemed to absorb the weak morning light. The entire student body was gathered, standing in rigid rows, shivering in the damp, pervasive English mist that clung to their blazers and dampened their hair.
They were silent, but it wasn't the respectful silence of mourning. It was a heavy, sullen quiet. A silence of anger and fear held in check by the presence of armed guards disguised as ushers. It was the silence of a prison yard.
Emily Cronus stood at the podium. She looked perfect; a porcelain doll carved from ice. Her black dress was tailored to sharp angles, her face pale and composed, devoid of any real emotion. She looked like a marble statue of grief, beautiful and utterly cold.
Behind her, flanking her like gargoyles, stood her "court"—Sasha, Luna, Sophia, and Eva. They watched the crowd not with sympathy, but with the scanning, predatory eyes of wolves guarding their territory, looking for any spark of dissent to stomp out.
"The police have concluded their search," Emily spoke into the microphone, her voice steady but hollow, echoing off the stone walls of the academy. "Despite their best efforts... the currents in the North Sea are unpredictable and unforgiving. We must accept the reality that Eiden Killian is lost to us."
A murmur went through the crowd, a low rumble of disbelief.
"He wasn't lost," a student whispered loudly near the front. "He was pushed. You pushed him."
Sasha's eyes snapped to the student, a warning glare that promised retribution later. The student looked down, terrified.
"We will honor his memory," Emily continued, her knuckles white as she gripped the sides of the podium, anchoring herself against the lie she was telling, "by moving forward. By making this school a place of order. A place where such... tragedies... do not happen. We will be safe. We will be strong."
The Gate
While the lies were being spun into a web in the courtyard, Martha, the old librarian, was taking her morning walk along the perimeter wall. She hated the assemblies. She hated the new "Order" that had turned her beloved library into a restricted zone. She walked to escape the suffocating air of the school.
She reached the main iron gates. They were locked, barred with heavy chains, and guarded by two of Akuma's private security men who stood like statues, indifferent to the cold.
But on the other side of the gate... someone was standing.
He stood in the swirling mist, wrapped in a heavy grey cloak lined with black fur—a garment that looked like it belonged in a myth, not a city. It was stained with travel and smelling of woodsmoke and pine. His hood was up, casting his face in deep shadow, a wraith manifesting from the fog.
Martha stopped, her basket of books growing heavy in her hand. Her heart fluttered in her chest, a bird trapped in a cage.
"Excuse me," the guard barked at the stranger, his hand dropping to his baton. "This is private property. No loitering. Move along."
The figure didn't move. He didn't flinch at the command. Slowly, with a deliberate, weary grace, he reached up and lowered his hood.
Martha dropped her basket. Books spilled onto the wet pavement, their pages fluttering in the wind.
The face was scarred. It was thinner, harder, the boyish softness carved away by pain and survival. A jagged, angry line ran down his neck, disappearing into his collar. But the eyes... those green eyes were unmistakable. They burned with a life that defied the grave.
"Hello, Mrs. Martha," Eiden said gently, his voice rough but warm.
Martha put a hand to her chest, tears springing to her eyes. "Oh... my... dear boy. You're... you're real."
The guard stepped forward, annoyed by the interruption, reaching for his baton to strike. "I said move, or I'll—"
Eiden looked at the guard. He didn't blink. He didn't flinch. He just shifted his gaze, projecting a fraction of the killing intent he had used on Vorian in the Iron Pit. It wasn't a threat; it was a promise of violence so absolute it froze the air.
The guard froze mid-step. His hand trembled over his weapon. His instinct, deep in his lizard brain, screamed: Predator. Run. "Open the gate," Eiden said softly. "I am a student here." The guard, pale and sweating despite the chill, fumbled with his keys. The heavy lock clicked with a sound like a gunshot. The chains rattled. The gates groaned open, yielding to him. Eiden stepped through. He nodded to Martha,"Good Morning." a ghost returning to the land of the living, and began to walk up the long drive toward the school.
In the courtyard, Emily was finishing her speech, her voice flat. "And so, we close this chapter. We move on. We—"
She stopped.
The words died in her throat. Her eyes fixed on a point at the back of the crowd, past the students, past the fountain.
A ripple started in the assembly.
A first-year student turned around, bored by the speech. He saw the figure walking up the main drive. His jaw dropped. He nudged his friend.
"Is that...?"
"No way. It can't be."
The ripple became a wave. Students stopped looking at the podium. They turned, one by one, then row by row, drawn by the impossible sight.
The silence shattered.
"It's him!"
"He's alive!"
Eiden Killian walked down the center of the path.
He didn't run. He didn't limp. He walked with a smooth, terrifying grace, his movements fluid and dangerous. The grey cloak billowed behind him like smoke, making him look larger than life. He looked like he had just walked out of the ocean, fought death in a dark alley, and embarrassed it.
He looked... like a King.
The crowd parted for him, a Red Sea of blazers splitting for the ghost. Students reached out to touch his arm, his cloak, just to make sure he was real, to feel the warmth of the survivor.
"Eiden!" Harry screamed from the crowd, pushing past a prefect who tried to stop him.
"Wolf!" Margot yelled, tears streaming down her face, abandoning all protocol.
They rushed him. Not just the Pack, but the students he had saved from bullies, the ones he had helped in the library, the ones who had seen him fight the Bear. The oppressed masses of St. Swithin's ran to their champion.
They grabbed him, hugging him, patting his back, weeping openly.
Eiden stopped. A small, genuine smile touched his scarred lips, softening the hard lines of his face. He looked around at the sea of faces. He hadn't realized... he hadn't known they cared this much. He wasn't just a spy anymore. He was theirs.
"I'm back," he said simply.
Then, a shriek cut through the noise, high and hysterical.
"YOU!"
Linda burst through the front line of students. She looked like a wreck—her hair messy, her eyes wild, her makeup smeared. She stopped in front of him, her chest heaving, her fists clenched.
She slapped his arm. Hard.
"Why?!" she sobbed, hitting him again, channeling all her fear and guilt into the blows. "Why is it that you always have to make an entrance like that?! Can't you just come like a normal person?! You... you dramatic peasant!"
Eiden chuckled, catching her hand before she could hit him a third time. "I missed you too, Linda."
Linda collapsed against him, burying her face in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably into his cloak. "I thought you were dead! I thought I was alone!"
The crowd fell silent again, sensing the shift in pressure.
Emily had stepped down from the podium.
She walked toward him, the crowd clearing a path between them. It was a corridor of silence.
Behind her, Sasha, Luna, Sophia, and Eva fanned out, their hands hovering near their hidden weapons. They looked terrified. They had seen him fall. They knew the physics. They knew he should be dead. Seeing him now, looking stronger than before, broke their reality.
Emily stopped ten feet away.
She looked at him. She saw the new cloak. She saw the scars on his neck. She saw the way he held himself—not like a student, but like a King returning to claim his throne.
"Eiden," she whispered. The microphone in her hand dropped to the ground with a screech of feedback that made everyone wince.
Eiden gently moved Linda aside, handing her to Harry.
He walked forward.
Sasha stepped in his way, her hand going to her belt. "Stay back! You are trespassing on—"
Eiden didn't even look at her. He didn't break stride. He walked right past her, his shoulder brushing hers with enough force to knock her off balance and send her stumbling. He ignored Luna. He ignored the guards.
To him, they were irrelevant static. He only saw Emily.
He stopped right in front of her. The entire school held its breath. The wind seemed to stop. Emily looked up at him. Her mask was gone, shattered by the impossibility of the moment. Her eyes were wide, wet, searching his face for the boy she knew, trying to reconcile the corpse she saw in her nightmares with the man standing before her. "You fell," she whispered, her voice trembling, pleading for an explanation. "I saw you fall. I watched you die." "I climbed back out," Eiden said. His voice was low, intimate, but carrying a weight that made the air heavy. "The ocean didn't want me." "Why?" she asked, tears spilling over whispering. "Why come back here? After... after everything? After what I did?" Eiden leaned in close, invading her space, forcing her to look at the scar on his chest that she had put there. "Because," he said, his green eyes locking with hers, burning with a cold, blue fire, "I have a ghost story to tell." He stepped back, looking at the stunned crowd, then up at the faculty tower where he knew Akuma was watching from behind his glass walls. "And I'm not leaving until everyone hears the ending."
The Headmistress's Office
Ten minutes later, the atmosphere in the Headmistress's office was suffocating. Eiden sat in the plush leather chair opposite Madam Cullin, his presence filling the room like a thunderhead. He was still wearing his heavy grey cloak, the fur collar matted with travel, looking less like a student and more like a warlord who had just kicked down the door of a palace.
Madam Cullin was shaking, her composure unraveling thread by thread. She reached for the phone, her fingers trembling over the dial. "I... I cannot allow this. This is irregular. You were expelled, Mr. Killian. You are dead. The paperwork—"
Eiden reached out. He didn't slam his hand down; he placed it gently over hers, disconnecting the line with a soft click. His hand was scarred, the skin rough and warm.
"The paperwork says I was lost at sea," Eiden said calmly, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in the quiet room. "It was a filing error. A tragedy. But miracles happen, Madam Cullin. Especially here."
"Mr. Cronus will not permit—"
"Mr. Cronus is not here," Eiden interrupted, leaning forward. His green eyes bored into hers, stripping away her authority. "But I am. And I know about the Foundation. I know about the Safe buried in the rock. And I know about the 'gas leak' that conveniently covered up a firefight."
Cullin went pale, the blood draining from her face as if she'd been slapped. "How...?"
"You want to call Akuma?" Eiden asked, leaning back and crossing his arms. "Go ahead. Tell him the Wolf is in your office. Tell him to send the Shadows. But know this: if they come for me, this school becomes a war zone. I will not go quietly. Do you want that on your conscience? Do you want to explain the bodies to the parents? Do you want to be the one who let the war inside?"
Cullin stared at him. She saw the jagged scar running down his neck. She saw the absolute, terrifying lack of fear in his eyes. He wasn't bluffing.
She opened her drawer with shaking hands and pulled out a stamped form. Readmission.
"Sign it," she whispered, sliding it across the polished wood. "And god help us all."
The Classroom
Eiden walked into the empty History classroom. The air smelled of chalk dust and old books. Mr. Blackwood—Sebastian—was erasing the chalkboard, his movements slow and mechanical. His hand was trembling.
He heard the door close. He turned slowly, expecting a student or a guard.
When he saw Eiden standing there, alive and whole, the chalk fell from his hand, shattering into white dust on the floor.
The Master of the Den, the man who had trained killers and spies for twenty years, let out a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh.
"You..." Sebastian choked out, his knees nearly buckling.
Eiden walked over. He didn't bow. He didn't salute. He hugged his teacher.
Sebastian gripped him tight, burying his face in Eiden's shoulder, weeping openly. "I thought... I thought I failed you. I thought the ocean took you. I was ready to burn the world for you."
"It tried," Eiden said, patting Sebastian's back, feeling the tremors in the older man's frame. "But the Bears fished me out. I'm hard to kill."
Sebastian pulled back, wiping his eyes, confusion warring with relief. "Wha...?"
The door flew open again, slamming against the wall.
Linda rushed in, her eyes wild. She scanned the room, spotted Eiden, and locked the door behind her with frantic speed. "Eiden!" she hissed. "You need to run from here! Emily is mobilizing the guards! She's going to lock down the sector!"
Eiden pulled away from Sebastian. He looked at Linda, genuinely confused. She wasn't running away to hide in her room. She was running to him to warn him.
"Linda?" Eiden asked, tilting his head. "Why are you here? This isn't your fight. You should be in your room, safe."
Linda straightened her messy blazer, trying to summon a shred of dignity. She looked terrified, shaking like a leaf, but her chin was set with a stubbornness he hadn't seen before.
"Emma wanted me in the Pack," she said, her voice shaking slightly but clear. "She said we needed eyes in the tower. And... she said I wasn't just a cousin anymore. She said I was now a spy."
Eiden stared at her. The girl who cried over mud on her shoes, had become a confident girl.
"Okay," Eiden said, a small, proud smile touching his lips. "Welcome to the Pack, Linda."
"Don't get used to it," Linda snapped, wiping a tear from her cheek, though she looked pleased. "I still hate the uniform. Now listen! You don't understand. She's... she's worse than before. She has Harry, Hazel, and Margot. She keeps them in the workshop. It's a prison. She treats them like slaves."
"I know," Eiden said, his face hardening.
"And Akuma..." Sebastian wiped his eyes, his face shifting from grief to the hard lines of a warrior. "Eiden, there is something you must know. The Founder... Akuma Cronus... he is not just a businessman. He is not just a rich man with secrets."
"I figured that out when he tried to buy me," Eiden said.
"No," Sebastian said, stepping closer. "He is The General. The man who trained me. The man who fought beside Evergreen in the Great War. He erased his past, burned his records, and built this empire on the ashes of his old life."
Eiden went still. The room seemed to spin. "He... trained you? … Wait, Evergreen? That is why he knew so much about wolves" "Yes," Sebastian said. "He knows our tactics. He knows how we think. He knows the Wolf style because he forged it." Linda looked between them, shocked. "Uncle Akuma... was a Wolf trainer? My uncle?" "He was a warlord," Eiden corrected, his voice cold. Eiden asked, "Does Durai know yet?" Sabastian answered, "No." He looked at Linda. "Where is Emma?" Linda flinched. "She's... she's in the detention block. Solitary confinement. Sasha has the only key. Emily ordered it after Emma tried to... attack her in the office." "Sasha has the key," Eiden repeated. He checked his watch. "Good." "Good?" Linda cried. "Eiden, Sasha is a killer! She's Emily's right hand! You can't get to Emma without going through her!" Eiden just smiled. It was the Devil's smile, devoid of warmth.
The Workshop
The heavy metal door to the workshop slammed open, the lock fracturing under the force of the kick.
Harry, Hazel, and Margot jumped in their seats. They were sitting at a long table covered in surveillance logs, surrounded by Emily, Luna, and Eva.
Emily stood at the head of the table, reviewing a file. She looked up, her eyes narrowing.
Eiden stood in the doorway. He was alone. His cloak swirled around him in the draft.
"Get out," Eiden said.
Emily didn't move. She smiled, a cold, sharp thing that didn't reach her eyes.
"You're trespassing, Eiden. This is a restricted area. You have no authority here."
"I'm reclaiming my property," Eiden said, looking past her to his Pack. "Harry. Hazel. Margot. Come here."
They started to stand up, hope flooding their faces.
"Sit down!" Emily barked, her voice cracking like a whip.
They sat, terrified, caught between two forces of nature.
Emily looked at Eiden. "They don't take orders from you. They are mine. They are my dogs now."
Eiden stepped into the room.
Luna moved. She was fast. She drew a collapsible baton from her sleeve and swung for Eiden's head.
Eiden didn't even break stride. He ducked under the swing, grabbed Luna's arm, and used her own momentum to slam her face-first into a workbench. She crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
Eva hissed and lunged, a jagged combat knife appearing in her hand.
Eiden prepared to counter, shifting his weight.
But he didn't have to.
A figure dropped from the ceiling vents behind Eva, silent as a spider.
It was Emma.
She wrapped her arm around Eva's neck in a perfect sleeper hold. Eva struggled for a second, clawing at Emma's arm, then went limp.
Emma dropped her, panting, brushing dust from her uniform. She looked at Eiden and grinned. She was holding a ring of keys. Sasha's keys.
"You took your time," Emma said.
"I had to enroll," Eiden shrugged. "Paperwork."
It turned out Eiden hadn't come to the workshop first. He had gone to the detention block. He had found Sasha guarding the door. He hadn't fought her; he had ambushed her from the shadows, choking her out before she could draw her weapon. He took the keys and dropped it inside Emma's room.
The Wolf Pack was back together.
Eiden walked up to Emily.
She was alone now. Her guards were down. Her leverage was gone. Her friends were unconscious on the floor.
He didn't stop until he was inches from her face. He invaded her space, forcing her to look up at him.
"You think you have power because you have a title," Eiden whispered, his green eyes boring into hers. "You think you're safe because your father built you a fortress."
Emily glared at him, trying to hold onto her mask, but her lip trembled. "I have an army, Eiden. My father's men are everywhere. You can't fight them all."
"Your father's men are paid," Eiden said. "They fight for a paycheck. They fight for a retirement fund."
He leaned in closer.
"I have thousands of men. Wolves. Bears. Eagles. Snakes. They are waiting for just one word from me."
He gestured to the window, to the world outside.
"They are ready to burn this school to the ground. They are ready to kill or be killed on my command. Not for money. For me."
Eiden's voice dropped to a terrifying growl.
"Are your father's men ready to die for him?"
Emily went pale. She looked at the window, half-expecting to see an army rising from the grounds.
Eiden stepped back. He motioned to Harry, Hazel, and Margot.
"Let's go."
The Pack scrambled up, rushing to Eiden's side. Emma joined them, high-fiving Harry.
They walked to the door.
Eiden stopped one last time. He looked back at Emily, who stood alone in the center of the room, surrounded by her fallen friends and her broken empire.
"Class is in session, Princess," Eiden said. "Try to keep up."
He walked out, leaving her in the silence of her defeat.