The dining hall had been transformed for the welcome feast.
Warm lanterns floated near the ceiling like drifting moons, and garlands of silver leaf hung between the pillars. A soft golden haze settled over everything, making the whole place look unreal — like a memory I hadn't earned yet.
Students laughed, toasted, argued over trials, compared wins and losses. I sat between Sylva and Lorian, doing my best to pretend my head wasn't full of visions of strange cities and gold rings and a man whose voice felt carved into my bones.
Lorian nudged me. "Stop staring at the door."
"I'm not—" "You are," Sylva said. "You're practically willing him to appear." I opened my mouth to deny it—
And then he walked in. Reis Ivendale. Ink stains still under his nails, formal tunic a little crooked like he'd forgotten it was a party, Eivar trailing behind him with the heavy grace of a shadow made of muscle and teeth.
He wasn't looking for me. But the second his eyes swept the room, they found mine. It was instant. Sharp. Like a string pulled taut between us.
Sylva made a noise that might've been a giggle. Lorian mouthed, go. "I am not—" But I was already standing.
I didn't even realize I was walking toward him until he stepped away from the crowd and met me halfway, somewhere between the long tables and the lantern-lit archway.
"Cressida." His voice was softer than the trials. Softer than I had ever heard it. "You passed." I swallowed. "Barely." Eivar nudged my hand with his broad head — warm, steady, grounding.
It startled me so much I laughed. Reis blinked at the sound, like he hadn't expected it. "He likes you," he said quietly.
"That's new. Animals usually run from me."
"He's not an animal."
"No," I murmured, fingers brushing Eivar's thick fur. "He's… more." Reis watched the motion. Too closely. Like he was memorizing it.
I felt suddenly warm. "Your trial," he said carefully. "What did you see?" I hesitated. The truth wasn't something I could speak aloud. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
"I saw… things I didn't expect." He stepped closer — not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough that I did. Enough that I felt the chill on my forearms vanish. "Did it hurt you?"
"No," I whispered. "Not exactly."
"Good."
One word. Barely breathed. And yet it sank into me like ink into parchment.
The lanterns flickered above us. The music swelled in another room, someone laughing too loudly behind us — but it all felt far away. Distant. Irrelevant.
Reis's gaze dropped to my hands, then lifted back to my eyes, slower this time. As if he was deciding something.
"Cressida," he said again, and my name sounded different. Warm. Careful. I opened my mouth, unsure what I was going to say. And then— "Reis!"
Instructor Halewyn's voice cracked across the hall like a whip. He stiffened instantly.
"You're needed. Now." His softness shuttered. His walls slammed back into place so fast I almost stepped backwards.
Reis dipped his head — to me, not her — then turned away, Eivar following in silent protest. I stared after him until Sylva appeared at my elbow.
Lorian sighed dramatically. "Gods help us. You're doomed." I wasn't sure if he meant Reis. Or the future I'd seen with him. Either way… He wasn't wrong.
"Oh gods—Cressida, look!" I turned just in time to see a silver blur—an actual wolf—slipping through the crowds toward her. Its coat shimmered like frost under moonlight. A wolfling.
A bonding wolf. My chest tightened with excitement for her. "Sylva—did you get—?" But the smile froze on her lips. Because the wolf wasn't alone. Three others padded out behind it—young but full size, eyes glowing with primal light. Uncontrolled. Untethered. Something was wrong.
Lorian cursed under his breath. "They're not supposed to be loose. Why aren't they collared?"
The first wolf—the silver one—stumbled. Its legs trembled. A strange, raw energy rippled through its fur like wild magic slipping out of control. People around us backed away. Sylva reached a hesitant hand toward it. "It's okay…come here…"
"Sylva, don't!" I grabbed her wrist— And that tiny contact set something off. The wolf SCREAMED—an awful, tearing sound I'd never heard from any creature—and a shockwave burst outward from its body.
Lanterns shattered overhead. Tables toppled. People hit the ground. And I— I wasn't fast enough.
The blast flung Sylva backward. She hit the ground hard, sliding across the marble like a rag doll. "Sylva!" I ran for her— another wolf lunged. Straight for me.
Its jaws aimed for my throat—fast, too fast to dodge— and then a dark shape slammed into my side.
Eivar. He tackled me to the ground, shielding me completely. I felt the rumble of his snarl against my back, the heat of his breath, the crushing weight of his body as he pinned me so the wolf's jaws snapped inches over my head instead of into my neck.
He saved my life. Again. Eivar rose, muscles bunching, teeth bared—and let out a roar that wasn't wolf-like at all.
It was commanding.
Dominant.
Every other wolf froze. Their eyes flicked to him—recognition, obedience, fear. One by one, they lowered themselves to the ground. The silver wolf trembled and whimpered, pressing its head to the floor as if begging forgiveness.
Coughing through dust and broken lantern glass, Sylva pushed herself up. "I…I think it bonded to me," she wheezed. "But it wasn't ready. Something forced the bond."
Eivar stepped aside so I could stand, but not before nudging my shoulder—checking on me. I touched his fur, breath shaking. "Thank you…" He huffed, almost smug.
Seconds later, Reis sprinted toward us, eyes blazing. When he saw me—saw that I was alive—his entire body unclenched.
"What happened?" he demanded, dropping to his knee beside me. I swallowed. "Eivar saved me."
His jaw tightened, something raw flashing in his expression. He looked at Eivar with something like pride—and terror.
The party slowly settled—shattered lanterns flickering, students whispering at a distance, instructors still nowhere to be seen. The silver wolf—the one that had released that uncontrolled shockwave—crawled forward on its belly. Its ears were pinned back. Its tail tucked so tight it trembled.
It stopped right in front of Sylva. And lowered its head to her boot. Sylva blinked at it, dazed. "Is…is it bowing?"
"No," Lorian murmured. "It's apologizing." The wolf let out a low, broken whine, then pressed its forehead to the floor. Not to me. To Sylva. As if the blast that hurt her was the worst shame imaginable.
Sylva's eyes softened. Her hand shook as she reached out— hesitant, aching—and touched the wolf's muzzle.
The wolf flinched. Then immediately leaned into her hand like it needed her forgiveness to breathe again. "Oh," Sylva whispered.. "You weren't attacking… You were scared." The wolf nodded. Actually nodded.
A soft glow rippled from its chest—a faint, silver shimmer—and flowed into Sylva's palm. Not a shockwave this time. Nothing violent. Just warmth.
A bond forming properly. Slowly. Carefully. With her consent rather than accident.
I felt the moment it snapped into place—the air tightened, charged, but beautifully gentle this time. Sylva gasped softly, her eyes turning glassy.
"I feel—" She pressed a hand to her heart. "He's saying he didn't mean to hurt anyone. He was overwhelmed. Forced awake. Confused."
The silver wolf whimpered again and licked the scrape on her wrist with surprising tenderness. Lorian exhaled. "That's one hell of a bond."
Eivar, who still stood next to me like a silent guardian, gave a single approving chuff toward the silver wolf—like acknowledging a pack member who finally understood his place.
Sylva laughed weakly. "I forgive you," she whispered, brushing her thumb along the wolf's cheek. The wolf leaned fully into her then, eyes closing in relief. A soft, silvery pulse wrapped around them both—sealing it.
Sylva and her wolf were bonded. Truly bonded. And the entire courtyard went silent in awe.
Boots struck stone. Sharp. Ordered. Unforgiving.
The whispers died instantly. Arch scribe Halewyn emerged first from the archway, her expression carved from ice. Two instructors followed her, along with three wardens bearing restraint sigils. Their wolves moved in perfect formation, eyes glowing faintly as they assessed the damage.
Halewyn's gaze swept the courtyard—overturned tables, shattered lanterns, shaken students—Then it landed on the silver wolf curled protectively at Sylva's side.
Her eyes narrowed. "Who released a wolf ling without sanction?" she demanded.
No one spoke. Sylva stiffened beside me. Her fingers tightened in the silver wolf's fur, though her voice didn't waver.
"He wasn't released," she said. "He was pulled."
That caught Halewyn's attention. "Explain."
Sylva swallowed. "I felt it. Like someone yanked a door open inside my chest. He felt it too. Neither of us was ready." The silver wolf lifted its head and let out a low, apologetic sound, pressing closer to her leg.
One of the wardens scoffed. "A convenient excuse for reckless bonding." Before I could stop myself, I spoke. "It wasn't reckless."
Every head turned toward me. Eivar stepped forward at once, placing himself slightly in front of me, his massive form an unmistakable warning.
Halewyn's eyes flicked to him. "Stand down, Eivar." Eivar didn't move. Reis appeared then—pushing past the wardens, jaw tight, eyes blazing.
"Enough," he said flatly. "This wasn't negligence. The wards failed." That landed like a dropped blade.
"The wards do not fail," one instructor snapped. "They do when someone interferes," Reis replied. Calm. Controlled. Dangerous.
Halewyn studied him for a long moment, then turned back to Sylva. "Name," she demanded.
"Sylva Duarte," Sylva said. "First-year initiate."
"And you claim this bond formed under duress."
"Yes." The silver wolf lifted his head and met Halewyn's gaze—unflinching. A faint silver sigil flared briefly on his chest, unmistakable proof of an active bond.
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Halewyn's lips thinned.
"So be it," she said at last. "The bond stands. But this incident will be investigated. Thoroughly."
Her gaze slid to me. "And you," she added quietly. "You were nearly killed."
"I wasn't," I said.
"Because a third-year's wolf intervened," she corrected. "A wolf who does not move unless commanded." Reis stiffened.
Halewyn's voice dropped, sharp as a blade's edge.
"Why did Eivar act?"
Silence.
Eivar lowered his head slightly—just enough to brush against my arm. I felt it again. That strange warmth.
Reis exhaled slowly. "He sensed danger." Halewyn didn't look convinced. "Wolves do not choose favorites," she said. "Not without reason." Her gaze lingered on me—too long. Then she turned away.
"Clear the courtyard. All initiates dismissed. Sylva Duarte will report to the Beastmasters at dawn."
The wardens moved in, ushering students away. As we walked, Sylva leaned toward me, whispering, "I think something's wrong with the academy."
I glanced back once—just once.
Reis stood alone near the center of the wreckage, Eivar beside him, watching me leave.
Not like an instructor.
Like a man who knew something was coming.