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CHAPTER FOUR

NOVA

S tudents cluster in groups near the far end of the hall, their conversations a low murmur, broken occasionally by bursts of laughter or an impatient shout. Humans are easy to spot, their dull clothing and lack of magic making them stand out like moths among butterflies. A few glance nervously around, their postures stiff as they try to avoid brushing too close to the fae.

It still feels a little surreal seeing humans walking these halls, but I’m really glad they’re here. They’ve been through enough. If offering them refuge and a better future is something we can do, then we owe it to them—and to ourselves—to make it happen.

After a whole lot of them were rescued by my brother and sister and her mates from horrible conditions in Espero, a ton of them said they had no one back on Earth, so they chose to remain here—to make a life for themselves amongst the very species who enslaved them in the first place. Last I knew, there were at least 180 humans who chose to stay, many of them quite young. The really small ones were sent to Sundahlia if they had no one on Earth, as that’s where a lot of the witches go when they arrive in the fae realm. At least there’s some familiarity there.

I settle onto the wooden bench, stretching my legs out in front of me. The label above us—Initiates of Magic Theory—feels like a joke. Like I actually belong in these ranks.

Like I’m one of them—the serious academic types.

The sooner my magic comes in, the sooner I can get the hell out of here. That’s the only reason I’m even entertaining this whole academy thing. I’m not here to make friends, and I sure as fuck don’t care about their lectures. I’ll do what I must to keep my family off my back, but the second I figure out how to control my magic? I’m gone. That’s my plan, anyway. Knowing my parents, they’ll make me attend all two years of this bullshit.

Tai lingers a few steps behind me, his inspection sweeping the room. It’s not protective, exactly—more like he’s cataloging everything for some purpose only he understands. Probably scouting escape avenues or threats or … something. I ignore him and brush the frost from my sleeves as I adjust my coat.

The chatter from the humans quiets as more fae filter into the hall. Most have their magic already, the evidence clear in the slight glow of their skin, pointed ears, or the effortless way their hair seems to defy gravity. As fae, we’re all pretty ethereal and blemish-free as it is, but vanity still doesn’t escape us. Some of the first magic they learn is how to smooth their hair and apply makeup.

A water fae glides past, droplets of moisture following her like obedient pets, while what I assume is a fire fae ignites his fingertip to light the end of a cigarette before extinguishing it with a flick. He gets away with it because he keeps the smoke contained in a bubble around him, hot boxing himself. Gross .

Some fae are shifters, where they can actually shift into other things, like wolves or bears. Others, like Tai, don’t shift and remain in their fae forms or a more feral version of themselves.

Because half of these assholes are partially shifted, I know they’re just showing off for the human arrivals. Why, I don’t know. Most of them would never deign to sleep with one, so who are they trying to impress? Though a few of the vampires stick close to the humans, obviously trying to find a willing donor or two, seeing how vamps can’t bite fae or they go feral and fae lose their magic.

I tuck my hands into my lap, suddenly hyperaware of how ordinary I look compared to the rest of the fae. Perhaps they’d think I were human, too, if it weren’t for my pointy ears and blemish-free skin. The thought prickles at me, but I shove it aside. I’m not here to impress anyone.

A pulse of energy rolls through the hall, subtle but impossible to ignore. Every head turns toward the raised dais at the front. A fae with slate-gray skin and spiraling horns steps into view, his robes trailing behind him like liquid obsidian. His eyes sweep the crowd, their unnatural glow catching the light as he steps forward.

Not a shifter, then. Just in his more feral form.

“Welcome to Moonfire Academy. I’m Professor Quill,” he begins, his voice carrying effortlessly through the cavernous space. “For those of you who are new to Bedlam, allow me to make one thing clear. This is not a place for the faint-hearted. You are here because you have potential—whether you’ve discovered it yet or not. Yes, even you humans.”

His scrutiny lingers on them for a moment, and I swear I catch a hint of disdain before he continues. So, he’s putting on a show, but really dislikes the fact they’re here at all.

He paces along the edge of the platform, hands clasped behind his back, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. “For those of you still waiting for your magic to awaken, this academy will do more than prepare you. It will test you, refine you, and determine if you are worthy of the power that sleeps within.”

As if we have another choice.

Soft fur brushes against my hand and I startle, only to realize Fang has sifted into the room and is now settling on my lap. Invisible. My fingers twitch, brushing lightly over where I know she rests.

I bite the inside of my cheek, resisting the urge to roll my eyes as the fae drones on. If he thinks a lecture is going to inspire me, he’s got another thing coming.

Tai shifts beside me, his movement subtle, as though he’s gauging my reaction. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, but he doesn’t look my way, his attention fixed on the speaker.

The gray-skinned professor raises a hand, and the runes lining the walls flare to life, bathing the entire room in a cascade of shifting light. The banners ripple as though caught in wind, their colors deepening into vivid hues that appear to vibrate with energy.

“These halls have seen the rise of great leaders and warriors,” he continues, his voice deepening. “But they have also borne witness to failure. Moonfire does not tolerate mediocrity. You will either thrive or be forgotten.”

The runes recede, and the banners settle, their radiance fading. An uneasy hush follows.

He clears his throat. “This is also a reminder to remain vigilant. Some of you may have heard rumors regarding two covert factions that have caused strife over the past terms: the Made Fae Society and the Fae Born Society. Their beliefs clash, and some of their members operate in secrecy, occasionally stepping beyond the bounds of school regulations.” He glances around the lecture hall. “If you suspect someone is attempting to recruit you—especially under veiled circumstances—proceed with caution. We’ve had incidents of individuals going rogue, and the academy will not hesitate to act if students endanger themselves or others.”

He lowers his hand, and the runes fade completely. “Now, let us continue with the session.” I shift on the bench, the hard wood biting into my ass as the fae steps back. A second figure steps forward, this one a woman with hair like spun gold and eyes that shine like polished garnet. Her presence feels more rigid, her movements controlled as she surveys the crowd. I couldn’t begin to guess what her order is.

“Groups have been assigned,” she announces, her voice brisk. “Witches, you will report to the east wing for your initial orientation.”

Witches are humans with magic. It’s hereditary, a gift from the fae.

“Humans and fae initiates without magic will remain here for the first session of Magic Theory. All others, follow your assigned guides to your designated locations.”

The room erupts into movement as students begin to separate into their groups, the fae filtering out like a tide pulling away from the shore. I remain seated, my attention flicking to Tai, who remains where he is, his stance unchanging.

“Looks like we’re staying,” I mutter, pulling my coat tighter around me as I settle back on the bench, trying not to draw attention to how my heels are off the floor to prevent a certain someone from sliding off my lap. Not because I’m cold, but because it feels like armor against a room that keeps reminding me of everything I lack.

The lecture hall hums with quiet tension as I glance behind me, the stone floors reflecting the soft light of enchanted sconces lining the walls. Most of the seats are already filled, a mixture of humans and fae who haven’t got their magic in scattered across the rows, their postures betraying varying levels of nervousness or disinterest.

I spot a few of the humans clustered toward the back, their dull clothing and wide-eyed stares setting them apart. And blunt ears. It’s difficult not to stare, as it’s so rare to see here. The fae—most of whom I’d bet are born fae—sit straighter, their movements fluid and confident as if they already belong.

The difference grates on me. Alpha, beta, and omega ranks aren’t just a hierarchy here; they’re the invisible chains binding everything together. Born fae cling to these roles as though they’re divine truths, while the rest of them are stuck somewhere in the margins, not quite belonging. And while no one says it outright, the whispers are there. Are they weaker? Different?

I grip the edges of my coat tighter, shoving down the irritation. They’ll see soon enough when I gain my magic.

Or am I broken, on account of my father having been a werewolf? The curse didn’t break until after I was born. My mother is a luna fae—the most powerful order who supplies magic to the rest of the fae orders. And my grandma? The luna goddess herself.

I was born fae, but perhaps not. My ears suggest I am, but my power hasn’t come in yet. Am I really a half-breed? Is that even possible? And does it even matter?

Tai’s watchful presence makes me roll my eyes—he doesn’t need to attend orientation with me, but of course, he’d say otherwise.

I glance around, letting my gaze drift over the crowd until it snags on a shock of red hair attached to a very familiar, handsome human face. Callum .

He’s seated near the front, his back straight and his attention fixed on the podium. He hasn’t noticed me yet, but that’s probably because I slipped in thirty seconds late.

He’s so beautiful.

Skin like moonlight.

Normally I don’t like beards, but his is dark, neatly trimmed, and frames his angular jaw in a way that makes my heart flutter. More of a ten o’clock shadow than a full beard. Just right.

I lean back in my chair, smirking.

Tai follows my line of sight, a brief flash of irritation registering on his face before he continues sweeping the crowd. He has zero room to be jealous. He had his chance with me and blew it.

Callum turns slightly, his green eyes scanning the room before landing on me, as though he could tell someone was staring at him. For a moment, his expression falters, as if he’s caught off guard. Then, a slow grin spreads across his face, warm and disarming. He raises a hand in a subtle wave, and I arch a brow in return.

He turns back to the front just as the instructor enters, a tall fae with skin the color of storm clouds and hair the same shade as straw. Her robes swirl as they move, glimmering with an enchantment that makes the threads appear alive.

“Welcome, initiates,” she begins. “You’re here because you’re either on the precipice of unlocking your potential or because you require further refinement to reach it.”

I bite back a snort. “Or because we don’t have any magic yet,” I mutter under my breath.

Tai shoots me a warning glance, but I ignore him.

“Some of you are human. Others, dragon fae. Griffin fae. Merfae. Or any number of various fae. However, the vast majority of Moonfire Academy are wolf fae, so it’s important for you to understand how they operate. The ranks of alpha, beta, and omega define not just who they are, but how their magic manifests,” the instructor continues, pacing slowly across the room. “For those of you who are made fae, you may find your rank influenced by the magic that created you. Research is ongoing as to whether your abilities align entirely with those of born fae, or if new traits emerge unique to your circumstances.”

Why the hell does it matter if someone is made fae? Why doesn’t she just call them wolf fae, because that’s exactly what they are now? Elitist asshole.

Her stare sweeps the room, pausing briefly on me before moving on.

“If you are found to be a wolf fae, you will be tested, both physically and magically, to determine your place within this structure. It is one of the most rigorous educations we offer, not because it’s taxing on the body or the mind, but because understanding your role—your strengths and limits—is critical to the magic you wield. An alpha’s core abilities differ greatly from a beta’s, or an omega’s. To misuse them would be dangerous, not only to you, but to those around you.”

I give the room a cursory glance, trying to pinpoint who might be a wolf fae, either born or made. Beats me. Because it doesn’t fucking matter.

“For now, our focus is theory. Understanding magic’s origins, its connection to the fae orders, and its limitations will prepare you for the moment your magic awakens.”

The words settle heavily in the room, and I glance at Callum again. He’s listening intently, his brows drawn together in concentration. It’s almost funny—he doesn’t have a trace of magic in him, and yet he seems more engaged than half the fae in this room.

The instructor gestures, and glowing runes materialize in the air, each one pulsing softly as they float toward the students. One drifts toward me, its light painting pale patterns on the desk in front of me. I reach out hesitantly, and the rune settles into my palm, its warmth spreading up my arm like a faint hum of energy.

“This rune,” the instructor amplifies her voice, “will track your magical potential throughout the term. It will record your progress, your successes, and your failures. Treat it as an extension of yourself, for it will reflect your growth—or lack thereof. This ensures your midterms are fairly weighted relative to your potential.”

The rune pulses quickly before fading into my skin, leaving no visible mark behind. I flex my fingers, but the warmth lingers.

Callum glances back at me, raising a brow as if to say, “What was that about?”

I shrug, leaning back in my chair as the instructor begins another lecture.

“Some who were born human may discover they have latent fae ancestry,” she continues. “Others may find they have an affinity for certain types of magic, even without fae blood, because of a female witch in the family.” She claps her hands, startling half the room from where they were busy staring at their palms. “Let’s take a brief tour before we finish orientation.”

The room stirs with movement as students push back their chairs, some eager, others sluggish, before filing toward the doors. I follow at a slower pace, trailing behind the group as we step into the crisp air of the courtyard. Snow dusts the manicured paths, melting in places where the sun breaks through the enchanted sky above.

Moonfire Academy is undeniably beautiful. Its towering spires and sweeping arches give it the look of something ancient, carved from stone that hums with residual magic. The pathways wind through sprawling gardens full of ice sculptures, past marble statues of past scholars, their features softened by time.

We round a bend, and my stomach twists as I stare up at the large building with a sign in a pretty script above the giant double doors.

Hearth and Haven.

The name is pretty, but it does little to disguise what this place really is. Not just a clinic for the injured or sick, but a refuge for wolf fae caught in the throes of their own biology. For those without a pack to see them through their heats or ruts.

It’s built from the same enchanted stone as the rest of the academy, but the magic woven into its walls feels different. Heavier. More purposeful.

My steps slow, my fingers clenching into fists as I stare up at the row of windows alongside the building.

The curse my mother broke still lingers in every inch of this place, whether she meant it to or not. She changed the fate of an entire species, and I was born of that same magic. Any day now, my magic will awaken. And if it’s like his—if I’m like him —I’ll end up in one of those rooms, my body betraying me, my mind consumed by something I can’t control.

I’d rather be dead.

A shiver rakes through me, but it has nothing to do with the cold fogging my breath in front of me.

Callum shifts closer, his presence solid at my side.

“She’s been out all week.” I pick up bits of a conversation next to us and pause. The girl’s breath curls in the air like smoke.

“Heat’s a bitch without a pack,” another says, the words abrupt with judgment. “Had to go to the clinic for a shot. Couldn’t even control her own pheromones with suppression pills.”

A guy chuckles, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. “Guess that’s what happens when you don’t have anyone to keep you in line.”

I freeze mid-step, the sting of the cold forgotten. Their casual cruelty seeps into my chest, mingling with something darker—unease. My heartbeat quickens as I process their words, dread curling beneath a prickle of pity for the fae—how easily anyone could become the target of such ridicule.

“You planning to eavesdrop all day?” Tai’s low, teasing tone slides past me, rich with amusement.

I whirl around, cheeks burning from more than the cold. Callum’s eyes sparkle, intrigued, as his lips quirk into a slow, knowing smile.

“I wasn’t—” I start, but my voice falters when Tai steps closer, his shadow stretching long across the snow. He glances past me toward the group before his attention shifts fully to me, scrutinizing the situation.

Tai’s jaw tightens for the briefest moment before he steps around me, brushing snow off his sleeve. “Let’s move.” He takes his warmth with him as he follows the shifting crowd.

Callum lingers, his brows drawing together as he glances between me and the group I’d eavesdropped on. “What was that about?” he mutters, falling into step beside me as I hurry after Tai.

I hesitate, unsure how much to explain. “It’s … complicated,” I say finally, my words hushed as we push through the heavy doors into the heat of the commons. The rush of it hits like a wall, thawing my frozen face, but the knot in my stomach remains.

Callum huffs, clearly unsatisfied. “Complicated how?”

I glance at him, his expression equal parts curiosity and confusion, and I fumble for the right words. “Some wolf fae who are omegas, usually—go into heat,” I explain, pulling off my scarf and shaking off the lingering chill. “When it happens, their pheromones … uh, get a little out of control.”

“A little?” Tai interjects from ahead, his smirk deepening as he waits for us. The rest of the class is far ahead of us already. “Try throwing every unmated, pack-less wolf fae in a fifty-yard radius into a rut.”

Callum stares at me, wide-eyed. “Wait, that’s real? Before we got our dog fixed when I was a kid, we’d have to keep her in a whole separate part of the house because our male dog wouldn’t leave her alone. I thought stuff like that was just?—”

“What animals do?” Tai’s amusement deepens. “Oh, it’s real. That’s why the on-campus heat clinic exists. No pack, no way to sate the heat.”

Callum bristles but doesn’t respond, his face pinched tight as he runs a hand over his beard.

If he weren’t freaked out about fae, he is now.

I tug at the scarf in my hands, unsure how to ease Callum’s discomfort. “You might see a lot of that here,” I offer, trying to soften the blow. “Moonfire is where almost all wolf fae go on account of their … special needs.”

“And those are …?” He leans in.

I shrug. “I don’t know, I assume her pack, once she gets one, helps her through it somehow.”

Anything relating to my biological father and his kind is something I’ve avoided my entire life.

Callum doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push.

Good. Because I don’t have the answers he’s looking for.

I don’t want them.

Packs handle it privately. Those without one go to the clinic. That’s all I need to know. Anything beyond that is a door I refuse to open.

He doesn’t say anything, but I feel his attention, the way his eyes linger on my stiff posture. I force my shoulders to relax, exhaling slowly through my nose.

I don’t think he knows my story. If he did, there’s no way he’d flirt with me.

Spawn of a monster.