HIDDEN WOLF

Chapter 2: Royal Target

Lyria had spent the last month alternating between taking her suppressants and ignoring them altogether. At first, the irregularity had filled her with anxiety, but as the days turned into weeks and she felt perfectly fine, the fear began to ebb.

A quiet defiance took its place. Why, she wondered, had her parents and everyone else insisted on these medications? They had always framed them as non-negotiable, but now, she suspected that they might have been overreacting. Perhaps there wasn’t anything wrong with her at all. Perhaps they were just trying to control her.

Still, a seed of doubt remained. What if they were right? What if there really was some terminal condition lurking beneath her calm exterior? The thought haunted her, especially at night when her mind wandered to places she didn’t want it to go. But daylight and the hum of her daily life made it easier to bury those fears beneath a veneer of normalcy.

That morning, classes had been as lively as ever, but there was a buzz of excitement in the air. The midterm dance ball was only two days away, and everyone seemed to be caught up in the frenzy of finding a date. Groups huddled together in corners of the hallways, whispers and giggles punctuating the air as classmates debated who would ask whom. Lyria tried to focus on her studies, but the energy was infectious.

By the time the final lesson of the day began, the chatter had subsided enough for their history professor, Miss Elenor, to command the room. She was a tall woman with sharp features and a voice that carried effortlessly across the lecture hall. Today, she seemed particularly animated as she stood before the class, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“Settle down, everyone,” Miss Elenor said, her tone both firm and warm. “Today, we’ll be discussing a pivotal moment in our shared history—the Great War that led to the eradication of the werewolves.”

The room fell silent. The word “werewolf” carried a weight to it, a blend of fear and fascination. Lyria leaned forward in her seat, her curiosity piqued.

Miss Elenor began to pace as she spoke, her heels clicking against the wooden floor. “Centuries ago, werewolves roamed the lands as apex predators, feared by all. They were brutal, savage, and almost unstoppable. But they weren’t alone in their dominion. Vampires also ruled, though their methods were more… calculated.” She paused, her gaze sweeping the room. “Humans, at the time, were subjugated by both races. We were archivists, keepers of knowledge, but little else.”

A hand shot up near the front. It was Marcus, the class’s perennial overachiever. “Miss Elenor, what triggered the Great War?”

The professor’s smile widened. “Ah, an excellent question. The werewolves, in their greed for power, sought to eliminate the vampires entirely. They viewed them as rivals rather than allies. But here is the twist: when the vampires were on the brink of annihilation, it was the humans who rose to their defense.”

A murmur rippled through the room. Lyria’s brow furrowed. Why would humans, oppressed as they were, risk their lives for their oppressors?

“You see,” Miss Elenor continued, “humans had long observed both races. As archivists, they understood their strengths and, more importantly, their weaknesses. When the werewolves launched their assault on the vampires’ royal family, it was a group of humans who thwarted the attack, turning the tide of the war.”

“Why would they do that?” someone called from the back.

Miss Elenor’s expression grew somber. “Perhaps it was loyalty. Perhaps it was a strategy. Or perhaps it was simply that human saw that vampires were a bit more reasonable. Whatever the reason, their actions changed the course of history. The werewolves were eradicated, but the alliance between humans and vampires did not last. That, however, is a story for another day.”

The bell rang, signaling the end of the lesson. As the class erupted into chatter, Lyria felt a strange heaviness settle over her. The story of the Great War lingered in her mind, stirring something she couldn’t quite name.

She shook it off as she made her way to her locker, where Callan and Talia were waiting. Callan, her boyfriend, flashed her a grin, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. “Open it,” he urged, gesturing to her locker.

Lyria raised an eyebrow but complied. The moment the door swung open, she gasped. Inside, the locker was adorned with fairy lights and tiny paper stars. A handwritten note hung in the center: “Will you go to the dance ball with me?”

Her heart swelled as she turned to Callan. “Yes,” she said softly, a smile spreading across her face.

Callan whooped, pulling her into a tight hug. Talia groaned dramatically beside them. “You two are disgusting,” she teased, through her eyes sparkled with amusement.

They laughed, but the moment was short-lived. A sudden wave of nausea hit Lyria, and her smile faltered. “I… I need to use the bathroom,” she said, excusing herself before either of them could ask questions.

The halls were quieter now, most students having already left for the day. As Lyria approached the bathroom, she spotted a group of vampires from the royal sect lounging near the entrance. She hesitated, hoping to slip past unnoticed, but their leader, a tall boy with piercing red eyes, caught sight of her.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the little human,” he drawled, stepping into her path.

Lyria’s stomach churned. “I’m just trying to get by,” she said quietly, avoiding his gaze.

The boy smirked. “Going to the dance, are we? Make sure you dress appropriately. You’ll be dancing with me.”

Her head snapped up, indignation flaring through her fear. “I have a boyfriend,” she said, her words trembling yet resolute.

His smirk deepened, a cruel glint lighting his eyes. “Did I sound like I was asking?”

Before she could react, he moved—a blur of cold shadows—and slammed her against the wall. The impact stole her breath, his hand pressing firmly against her shoulder. His face hovered inches from hers, and his voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “That wasn’t a request. It was an order.”

Her heart thundered in her chest, each beat drumming against the icy tide of fear. She fought to breathe, to think, but her body felt frozen beneath the weight of his presence.

A flicker of movement at the far end of the hallway caught her eye. The silver-haired boy stood there, watching. His gaze was unreadable, his expression as cold as marble. He didn’t move. He didn’t help.

The vampire finally released her, stepping back with a lazy, satisfied sneer. “Don’t disappoint me,” he said, turning on his heel. His entourage trailed after him, their laughter echoing mockingly down the corridor.

Lyria stood frozen for a moment before stumbling into the bathroom. Her hands trembled as she gripped the sink, her knuckles white against the porcelain. The humiliation burned, mixing with the bitter cocktail of fear and fury bubbling inside her.

“Damn it,” she whispered, her voice cracking. The anger surged, a tidal wave she couldn’t contain. With a choked cry, she slammed her palms against the sink.

The ceramic shattered beneath her touch, shards scattering like broken teeth.

She stared at the fractured remains, her heart beating against her chest. How could she have shattered a ceramic sink, and besides she didn't feel any pain in her hand. She sighed and realized the sink was probably old and defective, she ignored the shards and turned to the mirror..

For a moment her eyes reflected a bluish glint, and she would have missed it if not for the fact that she was staring intently at herself. The bluish glint seemed to have caught her in some sort of trance as she stared at it for a minute too long. She blinked, and it was gone.