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And nothing—nothing—in my training has prepared me for this.

Movement snaps my attention to a shadowed archway across the courtyard—a tall figure standing unnaturally still, watching. Male, as far as I can discern. His posture radiates predatory assessment—a hunter recognizing unexpected prey.

Our eyes lock across the courtyard. Electric shock runs from my spine to my skull. Something recognizes him. Something I’ve kept buried.

The birthmark behind my ear flares with answering heat, pulsing in time with a rhythm I’ve never felt before but somehow know.

Without understanding why, I sense this observer differs from the curious presences in the forest. More dangerous. More significant.

Just…More.

Before I can untangle this impossible knowledge, he steps backward into shadow and disappears—there one heartbeat, gone the next in a way that defies human limitation.

“Professor Morgan?”

I spin, fingers already reaching for the knife that suddenly feels inadequate.

A young woman—no, not a woman, something wearing a woman’s shape—stands closer than anyone should have approached without my awareness. Pointed ears peak through copper hair, vertical pupils expand in amber eyes, teeth too sharp flash in a smile too wide.

“You’re... different than we anticipated.”

“Different how?” Information gathering through direct challenge—a reflex I can’t suppress.

“Most humans announce themselves much more loudly. You move like...” she trails off, studying me with those unsettling amber eyes.

“Like what?”

“Like you belong here.” Her smile widens, revealing more of those too-sharp teeth. “How curious. Welcome to Velasca Academy. We’ve been expecting you.”

Behind her, the impossible castle pulses against an impossible sky, surrounded by impossible beings.

And deep inside me, something awakens that has slept my entire life—something wild and ancient and hungry.

Something that finally knows its true name.

5

ASH

“Quite the mindfuck, isn’t it?”says a voice directly beside me.

I don’t startle, instead shifting my weight slightly, centering my balance to move in any direction necessary. But I hadn’t heard anyone approach, hadn’t sensed the displacement of air that normally precedes human proximity, which is... concerning.

His teeth are too sharp, canines like fangs. Electric blue mohawk floating above his scalp, defying gravity. He wears a formal robe that shimmers with moving constellations, generating light from within.

“That’s one word for it.”

“Viel Vaelwyn, Department of Dramatic Arts and Occasional Divination,” he announces with a theatrical bow so deep his nose nearly touches the floor. “Welcoming committee of one, darling. The others were too spiritually constipated for the job.”

I offer a professional nod, keeping my face neutral despite the way my skin crawls with recognition of something fundamentally inhuman. The hairs on my arms stand rigid, my body’s alarm system blaring. “Ashlyn Morgan.”

“Yes, yes, the human combat specialist.” His eyes shift from violet to indigo as he studies me with unsettling intensity. “Though the universe whispers you’re so much more than that,doesn’t it? The betting pool on how long you’ll last is quite substantial.” He winks. “I’ve got money on you surviving at least through Harvest Tide.”

“What are the odds?” I keep my voice casual.

“Currently? Three to one against making it past orientation.” His smile turns beatific. “But energy doesn’t lie, sweet thing, and yours sings a very different tune.”

“Might want to adjust your bet. I’ve got a talent for disappointing people who underestimate me.”