Chapter3
1621 Words
The Warning
“You’re going to burn him alive.”
The words echoed in the silence between them, too calm, too certain. The stranger said it like he was reciting a memory—not a prophecy.
Ivy took a step back. “Who are you?”
He tilted his head, the shadows of the shelves stretching behind him like wings. “That’s not the question you should be asking.”
She swallowed. Her heart pounded, but the power in her chest pounded louder. “Then what is?”
The boy’s eyes glinted black in the dim light. “You should be asking what you are.”
She tried to laugh it off. “I’m a rejected mate with a migraine. And I don’t have time for cryptic strangers—”
“Ivy.” He said her name like a command. “You felt it, didn’t you? That pull when Luka touched you. But what came after? That wasn’t normal. That wasn’t wolf.”
She went still.
“How do you know what I felt?”
“Because it happened before.” He stepped closer. “Not to you. But to someone like you.”
Her skin prickled. “You’re lying.”
“I wish I was.” He sighed, a sadness in his voice that felt too old for someone who looked no older than Luka. “Your power isn’t new. It’s remembered. And if you don’t learn to control it, it will destroy him. Destroy everything.”
Ivy folded her arms tightly across her chest, like she could hold herself together that way. “Why would I care if Luka’s destroyed?”
He arched a brow. “Because you still love him.”
She hated how fast her heart answered that. How much it betrayed her.
“I don’t even know him,” she snapped.
“You knew him the moment you saw him. That’s what mates do. That’s what fates are.”
She stared at him. “So, what are you? Fate’s messenger?”
He smiled faintly. “No. I’m its warning.”
He reached into his coat and pulled out something small—a coin or a medallion—and placed it in her hand.
It was warm. Too warm.
The metal surface bore a carved crescent moon surrounded by jagged flame.
She’d seen it before.
On her skin.
In the mirror.
Before she could speak again, he was gone.
Like smoke.
---
The rest of the day moved like fog.
Rachel tried to talk to her. Ivy mumbled excuses. Her professors looked at her like she was glass.
She skipped lunch. Skipped training. Couldn’t sleep.
That night, she sat in bed, staring at the medallion.
Then her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: “You’re still being watched. Get out now.”
She jumped out of bed.
Ran to the window.
Nothing.
No movement outside. No figures in the shadows. No watchers.
And yet… she felt it.
Eyes.
---
The next morning, Ivy arrived late to her advanced shifter theory class. Students whispered. Chairs scraped. She kept her head down and took the last open seat.
Then the door opened again.
Luka walked in.
Every part of her stiffened.
His scent hit her like lightning—smoke and cedar and memory. He didn’t look at her. Didn’t acknowledge her. Just moved to his usual seat like nothing had happened.
But she felt it.
The mate bond still pulsed between them—faint, strained, but alive.
And it made her furious.
Professor Albrey was halfway through explaining the anatomy of dual-natured wolves when it happened.
Luka’s head jerked slightly.
Then he turned.
And stared directly at Ivy.
His gaze didn’t burn this time. It searched.
Ivy looked away.
She wouldn’t be broken. Not again.
She turned back to her notebook—
And saw blood.
It leaked from between the pages, thick and red and wrong.
She gasped and shoved the book away. But no one else reacted. No one saw it.
It was gone.
Illusion. Hallucination. Or…
A warning.
---
After class, she pushed through the crowd and made her way toward the training building. The cold helped her think.
Halfway there, Luka stepped into her path.
She froze.
He said nothing. Just stared at her like he was trying to piece together a puzzle he didn’t know he’d broken.
“You’re in my way,” Ivy said flatly.
“I need to ask you something,” Luka murmured.
She laughed. “Now you want to talk?”
“Something’s happening to you.”
“You rejected me. What happens to me now is none of your concern.”
His jaw tensed. “I didn’t want—”
“Don’t you dare say you didn’t want to,” she cut in. “You humiliated me. Crushed something I didn’t even understand yet. You didn’t just reject me—you unleashed something.”
He looked pained, conflicted.
“Ivy… I think I made a mistake.”
“Too late.” Her voice cracked. “You already made me into something else.”
She pushed past him.
Didn’t look back.
---
That night, Ivy returned to the library. The restricted wing was locked—but the mark on her palm glowed faintly, and the door creaked open at her touch.
Books lined the walls in dead languages.
She walked between the shelves, her fingers trailing spines.
Then she saw it.
A journal.
Black leather. Bound in wolfskin. Untitled.
When she opened it, her breath caught.
A name was written on the first page.
Isla Cross.
Her mother.
The rest of the pages were full of chaos—symbols, torn entries, drawings of things she didn’t recognize. But one page stood out:
> “The first time I burned someone, it was by accident.
But the second time... I did it on purpose.
The bloodline awakens in pain.
And it always demands blood in return.”
---
Ivy clutched the book to her chest.
She stumbled out of the restricted wing, her thoughts racing.
When she turned the corner—
Luka stood there.
Waiting.
His eyes widened when he saw the journal in her hands.
“Where did you get that?”
She stared at him. “You knew her?”
He nodded once.
“She was the first mate I ever watched die.”
The campus greenhouse was quiet at dusk.
Ivy didn’t go there for the flowers. She went there because no one else did.
She sat among the hanging vines, legs folded under her, trying to breathe through the fire still trapped in her chest. The medallion the strange boy had given her was burning again—only now it pulsed like a heartbeat, like something was answering it.
She didn’t notice she wasn’t alone until it was too late.
“You’re hiding like a rogue,” a low voice said from behind the thicket of vines. “Smart. I hear they’re the only ones who survive these days.”
She stood quickly, pulse flaring. “Who’s there?”
A shape stepped out from the shadows.
Tall. Golden-skinned. Sharp-jawed and sleek, like a predator built for speed. His black hair curled just barely over his brow, and his eyes—gods, his eyes—were pure silver with a glint of chaos.
Not cold like Luka’s.
But dangerous. Wild.
He smiled slowly.
“I’m not here to hurt you. Unless you bite first.”
“Who are you?”
He held up his hands. “Name’s Kian Vale. I’m not one of them.”
“Meaning?”
“I’m not Blackfang. Or council. Or pack-trained. I’m... between things.”
His presence felt oddly calming, but also sharp, like a knife pressed lightly to her skin.
“You were watching me,” she said.
“I was protecting you,” he corrected. “From the Alpha who doesn't deserve you.”
Her stomach twisted. “You don’t even know me.”
“But I know what you are. Or what you’re becoming.” His gaze flicked to her hand. “The mark is waking.”
Ivy closed her fist instinctively.
“What do you know about it?” she asked.
Kian stepped closer. “More than they’d want you to. That mark isn’t a curse—it’s a crown. One your bloodline sealed away generations ago. They called your kind Moon-Blooded. And they feared you enough to wipe you out.”
Ivy’s breath hitched.
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?” Kian reached up and touched one of the glowing blue orchids above her. The petals curled around his fingers like they knew him. “If I was, you wouldn’t be drawn to this place. You wouldn’t feel the ground hum when you’re angry. Or see visions of blood when you’re afraid.”
She didn’t respond.
Because he was right.
“I don’t understand any of this,” she admitted. “I was just trying to survive this school. I didn’t ask for this bond. I didn’t ask to be… different.”
“Power never asks permission,” Kian said. “It just waits for you to stop being afraid of it.”
Ivy swallowed.
He stepped forward again, and this time she didn’t flinch.
He was close now. So close she could see the edge of something broken in his expression. Not the kind of break that makes
you weak. The kind that makes you lethal.
“If you want answers,” he said softly, “you need to stop pretending you’re one of them. You’re not. You’re more.”
“And what do you get out of helping me?” she whispered.
Kian smiled darkly. “Maybe I just want to watch the world burn with you.”
- Writer
