LOGINRonan's Point Of ViewCelia stumbled backward so quickly her heels snagged on the edge of the long runner rug. She nearly toppled, her hands shooting out to brace herself against the frigid stone wall. Her eyes widened, brimming with tears that threatened to carve streaks through the thick powder caking her cheeks. "I just wanted to talk to you, Ronan!" The words ripped from her throat, cracking as they bounced down the empty vaulted corridor. Each syllable carried the weight of her desperation. "I'm not fighting with you. I swear I'm not." Her voice dropped to something raw and pleading, stripped of all pretense. "I promise never to bother Zane again. I promise, on my soul, on my pack's name! Just please... please just listen to me for five minutes." I offered no response. I simply stood there, hands tucked loosely into the pockets of my leather training vest, my posture deliberately casual. My expression remained unchanged… not a flicker, not the slightest shift in my features. I
Ronan's Point Of ViewThe wood of the corridor wall pressed cold against my shoulder blades, but I didn't move. I kept my arms crossed, eyes fixed on the heavy oak door of Headmistress Elara's office. The grain of the wood had become familiar… I'd traced every whorl and knot with my gaze at least a dozen times. Twenty-one minutes. I counted every single tick of the clock tower outside the courtyard window. What the hell was she still discussing with him? A routine lineage update didn't take this long. It never had before. Elara knew Zane was exhausted… I'd seen the shadows under his eyes this morning, dark as bruises, the way he'd leaned into my touch at breakfast like he needed the support just to stay upright.She knew I had canceled an entire council meeting just to get him into the training ring, hoping the physical exertion might ease some of the tension he'd been carrying. The tension that made his shoulders tight, his smiles forced, his laughter hollow. And then there was th
Zane's Point Of ViewThe silver blade descended in a swift, lethal arc, aimed directly at my throat. My brain had no time to process the danger, but my body… honed by a month of brutal training in the midspace, reacted on pure survival instinct. I threw my weight violently to the side, my shoulder slamming hard into the jagged stone. SKRRT. The dagger's jagged edge missed my throat, but it tore through the front of my shirt, carving deep across my collarbone and down my chest. "AGHHH!" The scream tore from my throat, the sound foreign to my own ears - raw and desperate in a way I'd never heard myself before. This was no ordinary cut. It didn't burn like fire or sting like a regular blade. The moment that silver metal touched my skin, it felt like liquid dry ice being injected directly into my bloodstream. A sickening, freezing numbness spread from the wound, crawling down my ribs like invasive frost and instantly short-circuiting my celestial fire. The white sun-flares around my f
Zane's Point Of View"You think you've completely won just because you dragged me to some gloomy cave?" I spat the words at him, wiping a stray smear of dirt off my jaw. My hands trembled… not from fear, but from the rage burning through my veins like molten iron. I refused to let my knees shake, even though the cold in this place was already biting through my shirt and settling into my bones with icy fingers. The damp air tasted of rot and stone. "You've seriously underestimated how much I hate being told what to do." The man's scarred face twisted into a grotesque, mocking grin, his entirely black eyes fixed on my chest. There was something hungry in that stare, something primal and wrong that made my skin crawl.It reminded me of the way predators looked at wounded prey… calculating, patient, certain of the kill. "Confidence looks amusing on a corpse, hybrid," he said, his voice like gravel scraping against bone. "Let's see how loud you scream when I start peeling that marrow from
Zane's Point Of ViewI let out a rough, breathless chuckle, shaking my head as white-hot celestial sun-flares danced higher around my knuckles. The heat licked at my skin, familiar and fierce, almost comforting in its intensity. "I should join you? Wow. Truly an enticing offer," I said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. "But my answer is a solid no. And honestly, if you think I'm going down that easily, you're completely mistaken." The cloaked figure didn't flinch at my rejection. He simply nodded, the deep fabric of his hood folding over the movement with an unsettling calm that made my skin crawl. Something about his stillness felt wrong, predatory. "Yes... yes, that's the spirit. Good," he murmured, his tone almost appreciative. "Because it would have been a massive shame if I had killed you without a proper fight. This way, at least you get to die with some semblance of honor." "Oh, how generous of you," I spat, my boots digging harder into Elara's scorched rug as I maintain
Zane's Point Of ViewI stepped backward, my boots scraping against the heavy rug. The sound echoed too loudly in the suddenly oppressive silence. My fingers found the brass door handle behind my back, and I gave it a hard tug. Nothing. It didn't budge a millimeter. "What the hell?" I muttered, twisting the metal with both hands now, throwing my weight into it. The latch felt as though someone had welded it into the stone frame. I'd literally just walked through this door three seconds ago. Ronan was standing right on the other side of it. My pulse quickened, a cold sweat breaking out along my spine. "Ronan!" I shouted, banging my fist against the wood. The sound died flat against the surface, swallowed by something I couldn't see. "Ronan, open the door!" "Don't be so rude, little spark," the voice drifted out from the pitch-black void near the desk again. It had this weird, scraping quality to it, like stones rubbing together under water. Each word seemed to slither across my skin,
Ronan's Point Of ViewThe healer’s words hit like a blade to the gut... The poison is winning.My breath stalls. My fingers dig into Zane’s limp arm, my knuckles white, my nails biting into his skin as if I could anchor him to this world by sheer force.His skin was too cold. Too wrong.The scent o
Zane's Point Of ViewI’m thirty.The thought burned itself into my skull, sharp and bitter. Thirty, and here I was, lying on the cold earth, nightfall pressing down like a suffocating blanket, the forest around me a dark blur of shadowed shapes and whispers. My body felt foreign. Heavy. Broken. Ever
Ronan's Point Of ViewThe training grounds were a chaos of snarls, clashing metal, and the thud of bodies hitting the dirt. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, blood, and the sharp, metallic tang of weapons. The sun beat down mercilessly, casting long, jagged shadows across the packed earth,
Zane's Point Of View“Shut up!!!!”Her scream didn’t stop. It fractured, splintered into something ugly and unhinged.“You don’t know anything!” Celia shrieked, her voice cracking as she stalked closer again. “You don’t know anything about him... about desire, about love, about what it means to be







