Celeste’s POV

*****

Bloodoak Academy, 10:17 PM

The moment we rushed out of Atlas’ suite, the chaos outside seemed sharper. Students filed into the hallways, hurrying out of their respective suites.

"What’s happening?!" Someone yelled.

"This doesn’t sound like a drill."

"I’ve never heard alarms like this before."

I exchanged glances with the boys as the murmurs and shouts increased. All except Azrael and Silas. Sunglasses be damned but I still couldn’t keep my eyes on the former.

The ’witch’ who wasn’t actually one.

Vampire.

A fucking vampire, straight out of an Anne Rice novel.

The fact that he hasn’t said anything since Professor Amelia casually revealed it made me sick to my stomach. I tried excusing it as us having to handle Silas being compromised. Or him trying to give me space to process it.

’It all makes sense,’ I thought to myself when we descended the dormitory stairs. ’All of it. His different aura. The way he slaughtered a Vein beast with brute strength and played it off as magic. Him being called the poison of the night by a Vein beast.’

I looked over my shoulder again.

He trailed close behind me. Too close for comfort.

When his head angled toward me, I shivered, gaze snapping back to the stairs ahead. ’Nope. I... I can’t deal with this right now. It’s too many things happening at once.’

My heart thundered in my chest, sweat dripping down every orifice on my body. I could swear there were tears at the back of my eyes but I sucked it up, pushing past a sea of bodies to get outside.

Once the boys and I got downstairs, my eyes travelled around. People seemed to be trooping toward a specific direction, making me wonder—

"Hey." A male voice called behind us.

The boys and I spun around only to meet a face that made my jaw clench.

Alpha Damien.

Resident senior year Alpha jackass.

He had the academy’s crimson uniform on, although his hair was undone. His brows furrowed, eyes looking between each of us. "What? You guys are some kind of group now?"

Luther grunted. "Man, just tell us what the fuck is happening out here."

Damien’s eyes pinned him for a beat before he spoke. "I don’t know, dude. Professors were out here a second ago saying we should all gather around the old Bloodoak tree."

"Mustering point," Atlas snapped his fingers. "The academy only calls students there for emergencies. Or specific gatherings."

"Well, it sure as heck ain’t no memorial." Damien scoffed, shaking his head as he ran past us.

I followed his back, my fingers curling. My chest tightened when I realised that Willow would’ve probably had a clue of what was happening before any of us.

"Celeste!" Caelum’s voice rang through the night just when we began jogging for the old tree.

He hurried down the steps of the male Dormitory building, arms wrapping around me. "Thank goodness, you’re okay. I thought—"

"No time." I cut in. "Mustering point. We’ll find out what’s happening there."

.

.

"Alright everyone, stay calm!" A Professor yelled out once we got to the Bloodoak tree.

A lot of students were already gathered around it, whispering, cooking up theories that were probably far off or just plain old trying to keep themselves from having a panic attack.

I was among the latter group—until Luther’s fingers found mine, interlocking with them and keeping me grounded.

After giving him a quick smile, I pivoted around in search of someone. I hadn’t seen her for most of today and expected to pick her out in the crowd. Because she’s always followed by her minions.

If you guessed Lysandra, you’d be correct.

’Why would you be searching for her anyway?’ my wolf asked.

She’s been mostly quiet since Willow’s death, which was even more sad since she technically wasn’t around during the earlier days of our friendship.

’It’s that gut feeling again.’ I answered. ’Something feels off... and for some reason I feel she—’

"Dean Thorne?!" A familiar voice shrieked through the night, coming from behind us.

All heads turned around simultaneously only to see a new group joining the crowd. A few professors rushed forward with a stretcher, someone lying still on it.

My brows knitted. "... Natasha?"

She was one of Lysandra’s friends, the only witch in their group. Her body looked pale, with bite marks on her neck and blood soaking her clothes.

I couldn’t stop my eyes from flicking to Azrael.

He obviously wasn’t behind this or any previous murder. But still—could he be capable?

"Dean Thorne?!" The voice from earlier belonged to Lysandra who hurried behind the professors.

Thorne waltzed beside her, features troubled and eyes distant. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

"Will she be okay?" Lysandra asked, voice cracking as they walked past us. "Why wasn’t she taken to the medic? She—"

"Lysandra, please," the Dean raised a hand, moving ahead of her. The students made way for him and the professors carrying the stretcher.

Lysandra stopped beside the boys and me, her hands in front of her tear-streaked face. "Shit... shit, not Nat. Please, gods, not Nat."

The parallel between the way she sobbed now and how wrecked I was this morning made my throat tighten.

"Hey," Caelum was naturally the first to go to her side, placing a hand on her shoulder. "What happened? Was Natasha—"

"I went to her suite to ask if I missed something during today’s first lesson," Lysandra surprisingly began explaining, her voice shaking. "Then... then I... I saw her on the floor. With the same bite marks Miss Benedicta had when she was killed."

Her body trembled. "I don’t want her to die. She... I’ve known her since before this shit hole. We got our fathers to bring us here together and... and now—"

Caelum gave me a look as if he were seeking my permission to comfort her. All I could do was sigh, head spinning back to the Dean who was now standing on a makeshift stage.

"A student was brutally attacked in her suite tonight," he skipped the pleasantries, eyes sweeping past each of our faces. "At that same time, most of the academy’s vital wards... were corrupted."

Gasps rippled through the gathered students while heat escaped my face.

I exchanged looks with the boys.

We knew who was behind this.

"In the meantime," Thorne went on. "The student, Natasha Henderson, will be receiving treatment. Our investigative team is already on the lookout for the culprit behind—"

"For the love of the moon." Luther snapped, making all heads move to him. "Look no further, Dean. The culprit is Professor Amelia."

The words dropped like a bomb, confusion tearing through the crowd almost instantly.

"What?"

"That’s impossible—"

"Professor Amelia?"

Murmurs rose, overlapping, growing louder with every passing second. Some students scoffed. Others looked genuinely shaken. A few professors exchanged uneasy glances, their composure cracking just enough to betray uncertainty.

Dean Thorne’s gaze locked onto Luther, sharp and unyielding.

"Explain."

Atlas stepped forward before Luther could snap again, his voice controlled despite the tension curling around us.

"We confronted her in her living quarters," he began. "She didn’t deny anything. Not directly. But she confirmed enough."

Silas shifted beside me, shoulders tense as all attention drifted to him.

"And she... used something," Luther added, wiping at the dried blood on his lip. "Not magic. Not fully. Something else. The Vein."

That word alone sent another wave through the crowd.

"That’s not possible," one of the professors snapped. "A werewolf can’t channel the Vein like that."

"Yet she did," Azrael said quietly. "She manipulated it. Twisted it. And when we tried to detain her... she escaped through it."

More silence.

Confusion painted every face now.

"How does that even make sense?" Someone whispered.

"Is she even a werewolf?" another muttered.

Dean Thorne raised a hand.

Instant silence.

For a moment, he simply stood there, eyes scanning the crowd... then settling back on us. "...I believe you."

That shocked me more than anything.

"But belief alone isn’t enough," he continued. "We act on evidence. And right now..." his jaw tightened, "... we have a compromised academy."

He turned sharply to the professors behind him.

"Initiate a full manhunt. Lock down every exit. I want her found."

Then back to us.

"And if the wards cannot be stabilised by morning..." he exhaled slowly, "...students will be sent home until further notice."

That did it.

The crowd erupted.

"What?!"

"Sent home?!"

"Are you serious?!"

Panic spread like wildfire, students clustering together, whispering frantically as they lingered around the Bloodoak tree.

I barely heard any of it. Because suddenly—my head throbbed.

Hard.

"Argh." My fingers shot to my temples as a sharp pain pierced through my skull.

"Celeste?" Luther’s grip tightened instantly. "What’s wrong?"

"I—I don’t—" my voice wavered as the pain intensified. "It hurts—"

Atlas stepped closer. "What kind of pain?"

But I couldn’t answer.

Because the world... shifted.

Shadows began stretching around me. Unnaturally long, creeping across the ground like something alive.

A few students gasped.

"Look at that—"

"What’s happening to her—?"

They started backing away instinctively.

"Celeste, stay with me," Luther said, his voice sharper now.

But I was barely there.

The noise faded. The crowd disappeared.

All that remained was... a whisper.

Right beside my ear:

"You’re almost ready."