Aria
The iron gates of Obsidian Moon Academy don't just close. They groan, a final, metallic scream that seals you inside with the monsters. I clutch the crumpled acceptance letter in my pocket, its edges soft from a month of nervous fiddling. The paper is the only thing that feels real. Everything else, the towering Gothic spires, the predatory stares, the scent of old blood and power on the air, feels like a nightmare.
I just need to find my dorm. Head down, stay invisible. That's the plan. It's the only plan that has ever worked for a wolf from a forgotten pack like mine.
A sudden shout slices through the tense quiet of the courtyard. I flinch, my eyes snapping up. A group of three large, muscular wolves in the academy’s elite black-and-silver uniform have a smaller boy cornered against a stone fountain.
“Please, I just need more time,” the boy whimpers. His uniform is the plain grey of the low-tier students. My uniform.
“Time’s up, runt,” the leader sneers. He cracks his knuckles, a sound like stones grinding together. “The Alpha cadets are stressed after their morning drills. They need some relief.”
“It’s my duty, I know,” the boy stammers, his eyes wide with terror. “But my classes…”
“Your classes don’t matter. Your purpose here is to serve. Now are you going to walk to the Royal Dormitory, or are we going to drag you?”
They don’t wait for an answer. They grab him, one on each arm, and haul him away. He struggles for a second, then goes limp with despair. No one moves to help him. No one even looks surprised. They just part ways to let the wolves pass, then continue on as if nothing happened. A sick, cold feeling washes over me. This is my new home.
I try to shrink into myself, to become smaller, but it’s no use. I can feel their eyes on me. They sniff the air, their expressions shifting from predatory focus to confusion. I have no scent. No pack signature, no hint of strength or submission. It’s a flaw, a genetic misfire that has always marked me as other. Here, it’s like waving a flag in a hurricane.
I find my dorm building and hurry inside, the heavy oak door slamming shut behind me. Room 2B. I find it at the end of a long, dim hallway and push the door open without knocking.
A girl with kind eyes and a cascade of brown curls jumps up from her bed. “Oh. You must be my new roommate. I’m Ivy.”
“Aria,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she says, her smile wavering. “Let me guess. You saw a service detail on your way in?”
I just nod, my throat too tight to speak.
“Yeah, it’s a shock at first,” she says, her voice dropping. “Welcome to the bottom of the food chain. That’s us. The grey uniforms.”
“What… what is the ‘relief’ roster?” I ask, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.
Ivy sighs, sitting back on her bed and patting the spot next to her. I hesitate, then slowly sit down. “It’s exactly what it sounds like. A barbaric tradition. The low-tier wolves, us, are assigned duties for the Alphas. Cleaning their rooms, doing their laundry, and… physical stress relief. To keep them from getting too aggressive.”
“You mean… they force them?”
“They call it duty. We call it hell. You just have to pray your name isn’t on the list that gets posted tomorrow. Or if it is, that you don’t get assigned to one of the Royals. They’re the worst.”
The door to the room slams open, crashing against the wall. A goddess of a wolf stands there, all silver-blonde hair, icy blue eyes, and a cruel smirk. She wears the elite uniform like a second skin, and two other girls flank her like royal guards.
“What is this?” she asks, her voice a venomous purr. She stalks into the room, her gaze landing on me. She sniffs the air dramatically. “Ivy, what did you drag in? It doesn’t even smell like a proper wolf.”
“This is Aria,” Ivy says, her voice small. “Our new roommate.”
“A roommate?” The girl laughs, a sharp, unpleasant sound. “No. This is a temporary pest infestation. I am Alyssa. And this is my room.”
She circles me like a shark. I stay perfectly still, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Look at you. Pathetic. Where are you from, mutt? I don’t recognize your pack stench. Oh, wait, you don’t have one. Are you even real?”
“I’m from the Greywood Pack,” I say quietly.
Alyssa scoffs. “Never heard of it. Figures. They must be as dirt-poor and insignificant as you are.”
“Leave her alone, Alyssa,” Ivy says, trying to sound brave.
Alyssa’s head snaps toward her. “Did you say something, little mouse? I don’t recall giving you permission to speak.” She turns back to me. “Let me give you the only piece of advice you’ll ever need to survive here. Stay out of my way. Don’t touch my things. Don’t breathe my air. And do not, under any circumstances, look at Prince Ronin.”
My brow furrows. “Who?”
Her eyes narrow into slits of pure hatred. “He’s the Alpha heir to the throne. He’s my mate. And he doesn’t tolerate weakness. One look at you and he might just decide to put you out of your misery himself.”
She leans in close, her scent of expensive perfume and ozone making me dizzy. “You are nothing. A speck of dust. You are here to serve. Remember that, and maybe you’ll make it through the first week.”
She straightens up, flipping her perfect blonde hair over her shoulder. “This bed is mine,” she says, pointing to the one by the window. “That one is for my things,” she points to the empty bed across from it. “You can have the one by the door. It’s where the trash belongs anyway.”
With a final, withering glare, she and her followers sweep out of the room, leaving the door wide open. The silence they leave behind is heavy and suffocating.
Ivy lets out a breath she was clearly holding. “I am so, so sorry, Aria.”
“She’s the Prince’s ex,” I state, connecting the dots.
“Ex is a strong word,” Ivy corrects. “They’re on-again, off-again. She’s possessive. He’s… well, he’s the Prince. He’s cruel on a good day. She just marked you as a target.”
“Why?” I ask, bewildered. “I haven’t done anything.”
“You exist,” Ivy says, her expression grim. “Here, for someone like Alyssa, that’s more than enough reason.”
I look around the small, oppressive room. At the bed by the door designated as my place. At the warning in Ivy’s eyes and the echo of Alyssa’s threat. My plan to remain invisible is already in flames. I haven’t even been here for an hour, and I’ve already been declared the enemy of a princess and witnessed the brutal reality of my new life. The acceptance letter in my pocket suddenly feels less like a key and more like the chain around my neck.
