{IRIS}
Morning arrived pale and uneasy, as though the sun itself hesitated to rise over the academy grounds.
I walked the stone corridors alone, my footsteps echoing too loudly for comfort. The air slled faintly of old paper, polished wood, and sothing colder—like the lingering breath of ancient creatures who once passed here before dawn.
I told myself arriving early would soothe the unease knotting itself beneath my ribs. If the room were empty, perhaps I could settle my nerves, gather myself, and pretend I belonged here.
The classroom I had been assigned rested at the far end of the hall, its wooden door carved with sigils ant to calm magic and bind mischief.
When I slipped inside, the room was quiet, still, touched only by the murmur of morning wind slipping through half-open panes.
I took the farthest seat, as though the shadows there might shield . My bag rested at my feet.
I folded my hands atop the desk and kept my gaze fixed on the doorway, pretending to study it but truly waiting—bracing—for the first glimpse of the world I would be forced to survive for a year.
Within minutes, voices drifted in, light at first, then swelling like an approaching tide. The door swung open, and students spilled inside in small groups, their laughter chiming against the stone walls.
Their scents mingled—wolf, human, fae, vampire, and others I couldn’t even decipher. They carried themselves with the ease of those who knew where they belonged.
I lifted my chin, curved my lips into the bright, friendly mask I had practiced. But the truth was painfully clear: they had already found each other. Already ford their clusters.
So friendships must have sprouted the mont they stepped on campus, perhaps even earlier.
My chance to slip between them unnoticed—to blend, to belong—had already slipped through my fingers.
I watched them from the corner of my eye: humans gathering together with familiar chatter, vampires assembling near the windows where the light was weakest, faes gravitating toward anything green or decorative, their laughter sharp as bells.
The werewolves occupied the center, loud and self-assured, brimming with the confidence of those blessed by the moon.
What was I supposed to do? March up to them? Smile and introduce myself like so wandering fool with no pack, no shift, and no confidence?
They would swallow alive. Or worse—bully .
My throat tightened. I couldn’t exactly interrupt their conversations. They spoke to one another as if they already had entire histories—inside jokes, shared experiences, nas exchanged with ease.
anwhile, I sat alone, staring out the window, pretending the tightness in my chest was not loneliness but serenity.
Pretending I wasn’t the only one here who had nowhere to stand.
"Hey everyone!"
A cheerful voice cut through the noise.
My head snapped toward the door.
Caroline swept into the room like sunlight dressed in human form—bright smile, golden hair, the kind of presence that made others instinctively lean toward her warmth.
Relief flooded . I hadn’t known she’d be my classmate. The idea felt like a blessing—my roommate, soone familiar, soone who had already laughed with , soone who knew my na.
My face lit without my permission. Perhaps the day would not be so cruel after all.
I opened my mouth to call her, already rising halfway from my seat—
But she ignored , and directly went toward a cluster of humans near the shelves.
They greeted her with imdiate enthusiasm, and she lted into their circle with perfect ease, laughing, giggling, embracing old acquaintances as though she had known them all her life.
Her eyes flicked toward once—just once.
And then she looked away.
A coldness slid down my spine.
It would have been rude... wouldn’t it? To walk over there and try to wedge myself into their conversation.
Humans mingled with humans, wolves with wolves, vampires with their marble-faced kin, faes with their own strange, shimring kind. The room was a map of separation, a world that rely coexisted rather than intertwined.
And ?
Where was my place in this world?
I considered the werewolves’ group—their easy posture, their restless energy, the way their wolves flickered beneath their skin.
But the thought of approaching them sent a knot of dread rising to my throat. I did not have my wolf yet. My body had never shifted. They would sense it instantly—sll the deficiency, the flaw.
Unshifted.
An embarrassnt to their kind.
Wolves despised unshifted pups almost as much as they hated rogues. Worse, they bullied them or killed them.
I imagined their stares, the whispers, the ridicule—and my stomach twisted.
The vampires?
No. They were beautiful in the cold, death-kissed way of marble statues co to life, but they hated wolves by instinct. Even an unshifted one.
Humans remained closed in their comfortable shell.
Faes—well, faes barely tolerated their own kind, much less strangers.
And the other creatures...
No. I was not foolish enough to mingle with unpredictable magic.
So where did that leave ?
Nowhere.
Walking borders, but belonging to none of them.
A sigh slipped from , soft but heavy.
Then the room shifted.
It wasn’t the wind.
It wasn’t a sound.
It was the air—the very atmosphere—tightening, pulling taught, then holding its breath.
Conversations faltered mid-sentence.
Laughter died.
Even the faes ceased their shimring chatter.
And then he stepped inside.
A man—no, sothing more than a man—entered the classroom with the quiet grace of a predator who knew he owned every shadow. He was tall, lean, carved with the kind of elegance that only ancient bloodlines possessed.
Hair like molten gold fell loosely around his face, catching the dim light as though it adored him. His skin held the pallor of moonlit stone, smooth and cold, and his eyes—goddess, his eyes—were a shade of deep, burning ruby that marked him unmistakably:
Vampire.
A noble one.
Old blood. Ancient. Powerful.
The room’s silence pressed inward. He didn’t seem to notice or perhaps he simply expected it, accustod to the way the world stilled in his presence.
He was handso—striking, ethereal—but not in the way that made my breath catch painfully. Not in the way that haunted the edges of my thoughts.
Not like Lord Val.
The comparison rose in without permission.
Lord Vladimir was beautiful as well—elegant, cold, noble—but Lord Valtheris...
Lord Valtheris was different.
His presence did not rely fill a room; it invaded it, claid it, reshaped it. If this newcor was moonlight, then Valtheris was the storm that devoured the moon.
There was sothing in him—so ancient danger, so forbidden pull—that both tempted and terrified .
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