The garden did not look like a battlefield.

  That, more than anything, unsettled Ardion.

  Lantern light returned in uneven pulses as ward-stones reactivated, their glow washing over trimmed hedges and stone paths as if nothing had been torn apart moments earlier. Guards moved through the area in disciplined formation, boots crunching over shattered glass, voices low and efficient. No shouting. No panic.

  Control had been restored.

  Too quickly.

  “Easy,” Deric muttered, gripping Kael’s arm as they guided him toward the outer corridor. Blood still seeped through the tear in Kael’s sleeve, dark and slow. Not life-threatening, but deep enough to sting every time he moved.

  “I said I’m fine,” Kael snapped, though his jaw was tight, canines faintly elongated despite his effort to suppress them.

  Ardion noticed.

  He noticed everything now.

  The metallic tang still lingering in the air where shadow had dispersed. The way his pulse refused to slow completely. The way his senses remained stretched, catching footsteps before they echoed, tracking subtle shifts in guard formations without trying.

  His wolf had not receded.

  It paced.

  “Medical wing first,” Deric said, already anticipating resistance. “Before you start pretending this didn’t happen.”

  Kael scoffed. “I took worse during second-year sparring.”

  “Yes, and you bled through three shirts then too,” Sylas said. “Move.”

  They were guided firmly toward the inner buildings, away from the garden. The academy did not want students gathering. Rumors could wait. Panic could not.

  Ardion fell half a step behind.

  His gaze drifted toward the hedges where she had vanished, searching for some sign he knew he wouldn’t find.

  The lack of it unsettled him more than her presence would have.

  “You all right?” Sylas asked quietly.

  Ardion nodded. The answer came automatically.

  It wasn’t a lie.

  But it wasn’t the truth either.

  “………”

  The medical wing of Astrael Academy was calm to the point of sterility.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  White light panels hummed softly overhead. Healers moved with practiced ease, expressions unreadable as they assessed injuries and murmured updates into rune-slates. The world beyond the garden felt distant here, insulated.

  Kael sat on the edge of a treatment bed, shirt discarded, a healer pressing a glowing seal against the gash on his forearm. He hissed once, then stilled.

  “Minor injury,” the healer said, glancing up. “Claw-depth, not shadow-laced. You’ll heal cleanly.”

  Deric exhaled, tension easing from his shoulders.

  “No other students were harmed,” the healer added. “Your group was the only one engaged.”

  Only us.

  Ardion’s jaw tightened.

  “So they knew exactly where to strike,” Sylas muttered.

  The healer’s gaze flicked briefly to Ardion, then away. “Classes are suspended for the rest of the evening. Academy protocol.”

  Evening.

  Yes. That was right.

  Beyond the narrow windows, the sky had deepened into a bruised violet. Dusk had settled fully over Astrael Academy. Whatever had hunted them had chosen its timing well.

  Kael flexed his fingers experimentally. “I told you I was fine.”

  “You told us a lot of things tonight,” Deric said dryly.

  Ardion stood near the window now, hands loosely clasped behind his back, posture composed. From the outside, he looked unchanged. Controlled. Unshaken.

  Inside, something had shifted.

  The attack hadn’t been chaos. It hadn’t been rage-driven. It had been deliberate. Focused. And the moment it failed, it had withdrawn.

  As if reassessing.

  As if learning.

  And someone else had already known exactly what it was.

  “………”

  Across the academy, in a quieter wing untouched by alarms or guards, Aylinor stood near an open window.

  Night had settled in fully now, the last trace of dusk bleeding away. The moon had not yet risen, but its approach was unmistakable, a familiar pressure beneath her ribs she no longer questioned.

  Daelira sat nearby, posture relaxed but attentive. Lorcan leaned against the far wall, arms folded, expression composed.

  “They moved sooner than expected,” Daelira said.

  “Yes,” Aylinor replied.

  Lorcan inclined his head. “But not carelessly.”

  “No,” Aylinor agreed. “They were confident.”

  Daelira drew a quiet breath. “Confident enough to strike inside the academy.”

  “They misjudged the variables,” Lorcan said.

  “They misjudged preparation,” Aylinor corrected.

  Neither cousin questioned her.

  “And Calden?” Daelira asked.

  “He’s already sent a report,” Aylinor said. “Escalation wasn’t unexpected.

  And They revealed more than they intended,” she continued. “Control patterns. Target priority.”

  Daelira nodded slowly. “The prince.”

  “Yes.”

  The answer was steady. Certain. Unembellished.

  Lorcan straightened. “What now?”

  Aylinor considered briefly, not from doubt, but precision.

  “No overt movement,” she said. “No pursuit.”

  “Even after this?” Daelira asked.

  “Especially after this.”

  Aylinor’s gaze shifted, briefly, toward the academy’s inner towers. To where she knew Ardion would be surrounded by guards, reassurances, structure.

  She had seen how he held himself.

  Controlled. Grounded. Refusing to yield ground even when circumstance demanded restraint.

  That mattered.

  “They’ll try again,” Daelira said.

  “They will.”

  “And next time?”

  Aylinor’s focus sharpened, resolve settling cleanly.

  “Now,” she said quietly, “we let them make the next mistake.”

  The silence that followed was not tense.

  It was expectant.

  “………”

  Back in the medical wing, Ardion finally turned from the window.

  Deric was watching him now. “You’re thinking too loudly.”

  Ardion let out a breath. “Since when do you notice?”

  “Since tonight stopped making sense,” Deric replied.

  Kael slid off the bed, flexing his arm once more. “Her stepping in back there—”

  Sylas cut him off. “—isn’t something we discuss here.”

  Kael grimaced, then nodded.

  Ardion said nothing.

  But a quiet doubt had already taken root, one he couldn’t dismiss.

  Had she stepped in because of them?

  The memory of her voice returned, uninvited.

  I was following something else.

  Something that follows you, Your Highness.

  Ardion exhaled slowly and pushed the question away.

  Some answers were better left untouched.