{Elira}
~**^**~
How was this even possible? No one had ever told . Uncle Marc never ntioned it.
Mum and Dad never spoke about ESA.
Why?
Questions sward my head like bees. A thousand of them. A thousand versions of why.
And sohow, this wasn’t just a coincidence.
I had found what fate had brought here to see, but sohow, it seed like it was just the beginning.
"Elira," Rennon’s gentle voice pulled out of my thoughts. "You have ten minutes left until your next class. You should head out now, or you will be late."
I didn’t move. My eyes were still on the yearbook.
I watched in silence as Rennon carefully slid it back into the gap in the shelf where I had pulled it from. His fingers moved with a quiet reverence.
"Did you know her?" I asked. My voice was soft, uncertain. "My mother..."
Rennon turned to face . He didn’t hesitate, even for a second. "Yes," he said. "She was the best graduating student in the 1988 set."
My chest tightened. I didn’t know how to feel. Proud? Angry? Betrayed? Everything tumbled into one tangled knot inside .
"She was... gifted?" I asked next, my voice lower.
Rennon gave a single nod. "For soone to top their class here at ESA, it almost certainly ans they had supernatural abilities. And great control over them, too."
I blinked.
But... I’d never seen my mother do anything even remotely supernatural. Not once. She’d always been gentle. Kind. Ordinary.
I thought she had no gifts at all—like . Maybe that was why I never felt lesser. She had made being powerless seem normal. Safe.
But clearly, it had been a lie.
I opened my mouth, more questions swirling on my tongue, but Rennon raised a hand, his expression calm.
"I know you have a lot on your mind," he said, "and I promise—I will answer everything I can. But for now, Elira... you have to go."
I hesitated. I didn’t want to leave, not when I was left with all these unanswered questions in my head.
But, after a long mont, I gave a soft nod. "Thank you," I murmured.
Rennon moved toward the table and picked up my books, stacking them neatly. Then he grabbed the small white box of macarons and handed it to , along with my belongings.
As I reached the door, I paused and looked back.
"Elira," he said, his voice low and sure, "don’t worry. We will figure everything out. Together."
A thread of warmth curled through my chest. I nodded and stepped outside.
---
The walk back to the academy building felt longer than usual, probably because my head wasn’t with my feet.
I was sowhere else. Sowhere fogged with secrets and silent questions.
Could there be a reason my parents kept the information about my mother’s alma mater from ?
Had father been here too?
If I had had ti, I would have flipped through that yearbook, searched every face, every na, looking for more.
But Rennon had been right. I couldn’t afford to miss class.
---
The classroom door clicked shut behind , and I barely had ti to breathe before the professor stepped in right after.
My heart stuttered at the perfect, yet nerve-wracking timing.
I hurried to my seat, trying not to look like I had sprinted across half the school grounds.
My books and the white box of macarons were still clutched in my arm, the contents rattling gently as I dropped them onto the desk and quickly slid into my chair.
I had barely caught my breath when the professor—an older man with greying hair and a sharp voice—spoke.
"Good afternoon, class. Let’s begin."
His long coat flowed behind him as he approached the centre of the board and scribbled the day’s topic in white chalk:
The Rise and Fall of the Silver Crescent Council.
Beneath that, in smaller script, he added:
’SubChapter 3 – The Treaty of Moonvale and Its Consequences.’
The class shifted in their seats, notebooks flipping open, pens clicking.
I reached for mine, but my fingers trembled slightly, the smiling image of my mother from that yearbook seared in my head.
My head was still reeling from what I had just discovered.
"Today," the professor began, "We will examine one of the most important political agreents in werewolf history—The Treaty of Moonvale, signed in 1773, between the regional Alpha Clans of the North and East after a decade-long dispute over territorial access and supernatural resource control."
I scribbled the date. But then my mind slipped again, like a pebble dropping into deep water.
Why didn’t anyone tell that she was powerful? That she wasn’t just... a quiet, ordinary woman who read bedti stories and made soup?
"—and despite the Council’s attempt to regulate power across all four territories," the professor continued, "many believe the Treaty only sowed seeds of deeper distrust. As we will see later, that very divide led to the formation of the rogue factions in 1812..."
My eyes followed the professor across the room. His voice seed to fade in and out.
Had she told my father? Had he known she was gifted? Did he have gifts too? Could I—?
"Ms. Shaw."
My na snapped through the air like a whip and my heart jumped.
"Yes?"
The room fell into a hush. The professor was staring straight at .
He repeated the question, "What was the key stipulation of the Moonvale Treaty that directly contributed to the Silver Crescent Council’s internal fracture?"
My mouth opened... and stayed that way. The words wouldn’t co. My mind had no answer to give because I hadn’t been paying attention.
"I..." I swallowed, suddenly feeling several pairs of eyes on . "I’m sorry, professor. I lost focus."
A few snorts floated in from the right.
A boy by my side leaned forward and whispered just loud enough for others to hear, "She’s zoning out again? Shouldn’t Ogas be paying twice as much attention?"
Soone else chuckled.
The professor only gestured calmly. "Sit down, Ms. Shaw."
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