First mission

“You’re really going to follow me everywhere, aren’t you?”

Lucien crouched, brushing his fingers through the wolf cub’s dark fur. Morning light spilled into the Academy courtyard, catching on the cub’s golden eyes. They gleamed back at him with an unsettling depth, more aware than any animal should be.

The cub yipped once, wagging its tail furiously, before settling right back at his boots.

Lucien sighed, a helpless smile tugging at his lips. “Figures.”

“Talking to it already?” Toren’s voice rang out as he sauntered over, his fire-hound loping beside him. Smoke puffed lazily from the hound’s nostrils, singeing the grass in its wake. “Give it a week—you’ll be whispering your darkest secrets to the thing.”

Lucien straightened, brushing dust from his trousers. “Better that than setting my bed on fire.”

“Hey!” Toren protested, pointing at his hound. “That was an accident." He sneezed

The hound sneezed again, sparks raining down. Lucien raised an eyebrow.

“…Twice,” Toren admitted, though he looked more proud than embarrassed.

Arian joined them then, his lynx gliding silent and graceful at his side, paws not making a sound on the stone. The animal moved with such eerie precision that students parted instinctively, like water avoiding a knife’s edge.

“You should be careful with that,” Arian said mildly, nodding toward Toren’s companion. “Houses burn faster than pride heals.”

Toren groaned. “Not you too. First Elira, now you. Can’t anyone appreciate fiery magnificence without complaining about fire hazards?”

Elira appeared right on cue, her serpent draped elegantly around her shoulders, tongue flicking. She cast Toren a dry look. “Magnificence? It nearly roasted the dining hall curtains.”

“Details,” Toren muttered.

Lucien hid a laugh, but Arian’s eyes flicked toward him, catching the small curve of his lips. For a second, the corner of Arian’s own mouth lifted in response.

Before Toren could retort, Professor Vael’s sharp voice cut across the courtyard. “Line up!”

The chatter died instantly. Students hurried into rows, companions clustering beside them.Professor Vael stood tall at the front, his black robes crisp, his silver eyes sweeping over them with cutting precision.

“You’ve made your choices,” Vael said. “Some companions are weak now, others strong. That does not matter. What matters is how you shape the bond from this day onward. The weak can become mighty. The mighty can fall to weakness. You will learn both outcomes.”

Lucien felt the cub press close against his leg, as though understanding. His chest tightened strangely.

“Today,” Vael continued, “you will learn resonance.”

---

Resonance Training

Wooden dummies had been erected across the courtyard. Some glowed faintly with wards, others stood plain, waiting to be torn apart.

“Focus your mana,” Vael instructed. “Let it flow into your companion. They are not separate from you—they are extensions of you. What they do, you share. What you feel, they feel. Begin.”

The courtyard erupted into chaos.

Elira whispered something under her breath, her serpent stiffening, then spitting a thin jet of venom that hissed against a dummy’s ward. Sparks flared. She noted the result neatly on a parchment.

Caelith’s hawk soared into the air, wings slicing wind. It dove with uncanny precision, talons raking the target until splinters scattered across the stone. Caelith didn’t so much as blink, his posture as sharp as the bird itself.

Arian raised a hand. His lynx flowed like silver water, weaving between illusions Vael cast into the air, striking with surgical grace. When it leapt, claws glowing faintly with borrowed mana, the dummy cracked clean in two.

Toren’s fire-hound sneezed flames again—this time intentionally. The target went up like dry kindling. “Ha! Did you see that?” Toren crowed, only to yelp as Vael snapped a ward that doused both boy and beast in a sheet of water.

“Control,” Vael barked. “Not destruction.”

Lucien watched, nerves chewing at him. His cub sat obediently by his feet, tail wagging. No flames, no venom, no feral leaps—just quiet, waiting.

“Go on,” Lucien urged softly. “Do something. Bite it. Growl at it. Or anything.”

The cub tilted his head, then padded over to the dummy. For a moment, Lucien’s heart lifted. But the little wolf only sat beside the target and looked back at him expectantly.

Lucien groaned. “That’s not what I meant.”

Behind him, Toren laughed so hard he nearly choked. “Oh, Saints above, golden boy got a decorative companion.”

Lucien flushed. He crouched, running a hand over the cub’s fur. “You could at least pretend,” he muttered.

The cub licked his cheek in answer, eyes gleaming.

Something flickered—an echo in Lucien’s mind. A warmth, faint but steady. Trust me.

Lucien stilled. The words weren’t spoken. They pulsed inside him, not quite thought, not quite sound.

He glanced down. The cub stared back, golden eyes impossibly steady.

“…Fine,” Lucien whispered. “I trust you.”

The cub barked sharply, then leapt. Small as it was, its body shimmered faintly with mana, claws striking the dummy. A crack spread across the wood, sharp and clean.

Gasps rippled around him.

Vael’s gaze flicked to Lucien, unreadable.

Lucien exhaled, relief washing through him. “Good boy,” he murmured, ruffling the cub’s ears.

The wolf wagged his tail and sat again, as if to say see, patience works.

---

Between Lessons— 

By midday, the courtyard was a battlefield of splintered wood and singed stone. Students collapsed in clusters, companions curling close to them.

Lucien dropped onto the grass, the cub clambering immediately into his lap. “You really like sitting on me, don’t you?”

The cub yipped once, curling tight, content.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Lucien muttered.

Arian approached, his lynx padding silent beside him. “You handled that well.”

Lucien snorted. “He handled it. I just looked like an idiot until he decided to do something.”

“Patience is a strength too,” Arian said quietly, his gaze thoughtful. “Some bonds don’t reveal themselves quickly. But when they do…” He trailed off, eyes drifting toward the cub. “They’re unshakable.”

Lucien blinked, startled by the weight in his tone. “You say that like you know.”

Arian didn’t answer. His lynx brushed against his leg, and he turned away, expression unreadable.

Toren sprawled in the grass nearby, steam still rising from his damp clothes. “If we’re supposed to fight monsters with these things, we’re doomed.”

Elira rolled her eyes. “You say that as if you weren’t the one who nearly immolated yourself twice.”

“Details,” Toren muttered, covering his face with his sleeve. His hound flopped beside him, smoke curling lazily upward.

Lucien chuckled softly, but the cub stirred, pressing his nose against Lucien’s hand. His golden eyes gleamed, sharp as ever.

Lucien leaned down, whispering so only the cub could hear. “You’re hiding something, aren’t you?”

The cub wagged his tail but said nothing. Still, Lucien felt the faint brush of warmth again, a reassurance that settled his nerves despite the mystery.

---

Vael’s Announcement—

The following morning, the students were called back to the hall. Excitement buzzed through the crowd, tempered by exhaustion. Companions perched, padded, and slithered at their sides, each bond new but already palpable.

Vael stood before them, arms clasped behind his back. " I have two things to announce. First is You should name your companions. Your bonds are in motion. Take care of them like yourself." 

She paused a moment then—“And the second is you have taken your first step. You are not ready—but you must begin regardless.” His gaze swept the room. “Tomorrow, you will leave the Academy.”

A ripple of shock burst through the hall.

“To where?” a student called.

“A countryside village has reported disturbances,” Vael said. “Livestock vanishing. Mana wards failing. Shadows in the woods. You will travel as a group, investigate, and resolve what you can. Though there isn't any danger—”

Hesitated she added, " However don't do anything reckless. We'll assign the groups and there will be knights and mages per groups. So if there's any trouble don't jump right into it."

Murmurs rose instantly. Fear, excitement, disbelief.

Toren bolted upright. “Wait—you’re sending us outside already?”

“Yes,” Vael said sharply. “If you cannot function beyond these walls, you are not worthy of them.”

The words dropped like stone, silencing the room.

Lucien’s chest tightened. He looked down. The cub stared back up at him, tail thumping once against the floor. His golden eyes gleamed as if to say: At last, we begin.

---

That night, Lucien lay awake. The cub was curled against his side, breathing steady.

Lucien brushed a hand through the wolf’s fur. “Tomorrow we leave the Academy. Our first mission. You ready for that?”

The cub stirred, eyes half-lidded but glinting with something almost knowing. Then, in that same faint pulse as before, Lucien heard it—words brushing against his mind.

“Out there… you’ll start to remember.”

Lucien froze, heart leaping. “Remember what? And who—” he whispered.

The cub shut his eyes again, already asleep.

Lucien lay staring at the ceiling, unsettled and restless. A mission awaited them.

And something told him it would change everything.

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