Torn body (2)

The courtyard still reeked faintly of iron.

Though Kara’s body had been taken away hours ago, the scent clung to the stone like a stain no one could wash out. The sky above was a flat gray, clouds dragging shadows across the academy spires. And beneath those spires, fear had spread like wildfire.

Clusters of students stood in tight knots, their voices low, their glances darting. The sound wasn’t chatter—it was murmuring, like a hive disturbed, a collective buzz of unease.

“They said her mana was sucked, she looked like dried tree…”

“No, I heard her throat was torn open. Beasts, it has to be beasts.”

“Not just throat. They said the beasts was hungry enough that it eat her like—”

“Don’t be stupid. Beasts can’t pass the wards. Everyone knows that.”

“Then what drained her mana? Did you see her face? She didn’t even look human anymore.”

Lucien moved through the currents of rumor with Arian. His shoulders tightened with every word that drifted to his ears. He wanted to shut it out, but his wolf didn’t let him. Fen padded silently beside him, hackles faintly bristled, golden eyes flicking across the gathered students.

It wasn’t just fear in the air.

It was suspicion.

Lucien caught it in the way heads tilted, eyes narrowed, whispers slowed when certain students passed. Mira, for example. Once cheerful, always first to laugh—now she sat stiffly near the courtyard’s edge, sleeves long despite the warm breeze, eyes shadowed.

Rynel too, tugging absently at gloves that looked almost too tight, fingers flexing as though something beneath the skin strained to move. Another boy, Garrin, had wrapped a scarf high around his neck, the wool pulled even in the midday sun.

They weren’t the only ones.

But they were the ones everyone noticed.

Students who had gone missing week ago in the village , who returned suddenly after that mission outside the city, claiming nothing but faint memories and exhaustion. Now their movements were guarded, their clothing oddly chosen, their silences heavier than stone.

Fen’s low growl shivered against Lucien’s mind. They hide their hunger. And hunger does not hide for long.

Lucien swallowed hard. Hunger. Was that what Fen had scented in Kara’s drained corpse?

Before he could dwell on it, a horn blared from the main gate. Heads turned, whispers cutting off. Riders crossed the bridge, cloaks snapping in the wind.

The lead figure dismounted with a fluid grace, boots striking stone. Her hood fell back, short silver hair catching the light.

Lucien didn’t need to look at Arian to know who she was—the sudden stillness of his companion told him enough.

“Arian,” the woman said flatly, her voice cool and sharp as a blade.

“Sister,” Arian answered, his tone equally flat.

Toren’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, well. So the rumors were true. The prodigal older sister returns.”

The woman ignored him. She strode closer, eyes the same silver as Arian’s but darker, harder, like tempered steel compared to polished glass. She halted before her brother, studying him with a scrutiny that would have made most students wilt.

“You’ve grown reckless,” she said. “News travels faster than you think. Mana-drained corpses. Creatures circling the wards. And I find out my little brother is standing at the center of it all.”

Arian didn’t flinch. “I’m fine.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You call this fine? You look thinner. Your circles are darker. This isn’t you.”

“Not to mention how you vanished for weeks then popped up from nowhere saying you're fine. I'm not sure if you're you or I'm just talking to your ghost.”

“It is me, I said I'm fine.” he said calmly. “You just haven’t seen me in years.”

Her lips tightened. For a moment, Lucien thought he saw worry flicker there, quickly buried beneath steel. “I should drag you back home myself.”

“You wouldn’t succeed,” Arian said, voice cooling to ice.

Her brow arched, and for the first time, a smirk tugged at her mouth. “Don’t tempt me.”

Toren, caught between wanting to laugh and shiver, leaned toward Lucien, “Who is she?”

Lucien kept his voice low. “Selene Runerth. Arian's older sister. Third-year.  she is top of her class. Brutal, disciplined. They say she fought Professor Earl, our physical training teacher, to a standstill once.”

Toren's eyes widened. Arian’s sister, top duelist, with a tongue as sharp as her blade. No wonder the air around her crackled.

Selene finally glanced at Lucien and the others. Her gaze lingered a fraction too long on him, 

“You've grown a lot since I last saw you Lucien.”

“I'm growing so it's obvious Sel sister.”

Corner of her his curved a little but vanished as soon. Then returned to her brother. “You’ve chosen…friends and companions I see. Try not to get them killed, Arian.”

“You don't have to—”

Toren cut in and muttered, “Charmed to meet you too, my lady.”

She ignored him again.

”She's just going to ignore me like that? Cruel. I at least deserve some attention from a beautiful lady.”

---

The next morning shattered whatever uneasy balance her arrival brought.

A scream echoed across the cliffs, sharp enough to slice through breakfast chatter. Lucien dropped his spoon, pulse jolting.

“Outside the wards,” someone shouted. “Bodies outside the wards!”

By the time Lucien and his friends reached the edge of the barrier, a crowd had gathered. The protective ward shimmered faintly like glass in the sunlight, separating them from the jagged rocks beyond. And on those rocks lay three figures.

Not one.

Three.

Two students, faces contorted, and a stable-hand Lucien recognized vaguely by his apron. Their bodies were twisted unnaturally, limbs at sharp angles. Flesh had been torn as though claws had raked them—but no fresh blood stained the stone.  

The whispers rose like waves.

“Again—just like yesterday.”

“They’re being drained.”

“Outside the wards… how did they get there?”

“Who would go beyond the wards? They’d never…”

Some professors stood at the front, their cloak whipping in the sea wind, expression grim. One of them raised one hand of the dead studens, strands of mana weaving into the ward, reinforcing it.

“Return to your dorms,” he said, voice sharp.

“Professor, they’re our classmates—” a boy shouted.

“They are dead,” Professor Earl cut him off, voice like steel striking stone. “And unless you wish to join them, you will obey. Return. Now.”

The students hesitated, fear rooting them, but eventually they broke apart, scattering in hushed, frantic clusters.

Lucien stayed a moment longer, his breath shallow. He stared at the drained bodies, then at the shimmer of the ward. Why outside? Why now? And what's happening exactly.

Fen’s golden eyes gleamed. This is no beast, he growled into Lucien’s mind. This rot walks might on two legs not four.

Lucien’s gaze flicked across the dispersing crowd. Mira. Rynel. Garrin. They stood apart from other, their faces pale, their clothes still wrapped tight, too tight. Rynel’s glove trembled as he clenched his hand. Mira’s scarf slipped just slightly, revealing skin faintly marked, like veins pulsing beneath the surface. She tugged it back quickly, jaw clenched.

His stomach dropped.

It was spreading. Something. Something wicked was spreading.

---

That night, the dining hall felt wrong.

Plates clattered, spoons scraped, but laughter was gone. The usual chorus of voices had thinned to uneasy murmurs. Shadows stretched long across the tables, the torchlight flickering too low.

Lucien tried to eat, but every bite stuck in his throat. He caught himself glancing across the hall at Mira and Rynel more times than he could count. They sat stiff, silent, their food barely touched. Garrin kept his head bowed, scarf still high, as though he didn’t want anyone to see his mouth move.

Is it them? But they would never—

Toren muttered beside him, “You’d think they’re freezing. Gloves in this heat? Hiding something, for sure.”

Elira hissed, “Don’t say that so loud.”

But Lucien couldn’t disagree. His wolf was restless, pacing inside him, sensing something beneath the surface.

Mira’s hand clenched suddenly, her fork scraping against the plate. She froze, breath shallow. Then, under her breath, so soft most ears would miss it, she muttered something.

Lucien’s ears caught it.

Not words. Not exactly. A resonance, layered, like voices overlapping, something that didn’t belong to a single throat.

His blood ran cold.

Across from him, Fen’s head snapped up, golden eyes burning like twin flames.

It’s spreading.

The words reverberated in Lucien’s mind, heavier than stone, colder than the sea wind outside.

He gripped his spoon, knuckles white, staring at Mira as dread crawled up his spine.

Kara had been the first.

But she would not be the last.

And whatever hunger clung to Mira and the others—

It was no longer just theirs.

It was inside the academy now.

And it was growing.

•••