The Luna Academy

Firelight

When we step inside, the man strikes a match and flicks it against the stone hearth. A flame sputters, then roars to life in the fireplace, throwing golden light across the small cabin and across his bare skin.

I gasp, heat flooding my cheeks, and spin around, pressing my injured hand to my face. Blood smears across my cheekbone.

“You must be a witch,” he pronounces casually.

I don’t look back.

“What makes you say that?” I ask, the words coming out tighter than I intend.

“Because wolves don’t care about nudity the way the rest of you do. Shifting leaves us exposed. It’s natural for us to see each other like this,” he adds, amusement threading through his voice. “It’s not like we have pockets for clothes.”

Against my better judgment, a laugh slips out before I bite my lip to silence it. He touches my arm, coaxing me to turn. I freeze, every instinct screaming to pull away, but when I face him again, he’s no longer bare.

Black joggers hang low on his hips while the flames flicker across the hard lines of his chest and shoulders. His skin is marked with faint scars, pale against the glow, like half-forgotten stories carved into him. My eyes meet his face, and for the first time, I see it clearly. He has a strong jawline with a mouth that looks as though it’s used for far more scowling than smiling.

His eyes catch the firelight, wolf-like, though not the burning gold I saw earlier. They’re darker, similar to storm clouds muting the color of the blue sky. His gaze flicks down to my injured hand. The hard line of his mouth tightens, his expression shifting from curiosity to something colder, harder.

“Let me help you with this.”

Before I can object, he steers me to the couch near the fire. A first aid kit and a bowl of water rest on the table, as if they’d appeared out of nowhere. He sits across from me, takes a rag, dips it, and begins wiping the blood from my palm.

“Ow,” I hiss under my breath, flinching as the cool water bites into the fresh cuts.

“Sorry,” he stammers, softening his touch. “I’m not used to patching up others.”

“It’s okay,” I reassure quickly, trying to comfort the giant man who somehow seems more fragile than I am. “I’ve had worse. It’s…been a long day.”

“I imagine,” he drawls, jaw tightening. “You’re lucky we stumbled across each other. Otherwise, tonight might have ended very differently for you.”

My brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t know?”

I shake my head.

“This is the Never-Ending Forest. It goes on forever. If you don’t know the paths, you’ll wander in here until you die. In short, your body will be more fossilized than flesh before anyone would ever find you… That’s why it’s forbidden to enter alone,” he reveals, leaning in as his eyes narrow. “So…are you brave? Or foolish?”

“Maybe the latter,” I admit, managing a weak smile. “What about you? What brings you out here?”

His grip tightens around my wrist, a vein pulsing at his temple as if he’s ready to snap my arm in half. Then, with a slow exhale, he releases me.

“Sorry,” I whisper, though I don’t know why. “You don’t have to answer.”

Silence stretches while he finishes cleaning my hand. With the blood gone, the deep gash across my palm becomes clear, alongside the minor nicks surrounding it.

“Umm, thanks for this,” I murmur, eager to ease the tension.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he replies grimly. “You’ll need stitches.”

“f*****g fantastic,” I sigh. “By any chance, do you have what I’ll need for this in that kit of yours?”

He opens the first aid kit again, pulling out a curved needle, thread, and a bottle of brown liquid. “Will this work?”

“Yes, thank you.”

I fumble with the cork on the bottle until he takes it from me. He soaks the needle, threads it, then holds out his hand. “Let me.”

“I can do it myself,” I assert, taking the needle from him.

Piercing my skin, I pull the thread through, my breath catching with each pass—in, out—the rhythm steadies my shaking hands even as fire crawls up my arm. Across from me, he shifts on the couch, the faint creak of worn leather breaking the silence. I feel his eyes on me, heavy and unflinching, but I keep my head down and keep sewing.

“You’re…better at this than most trained healers,” he manages, like he’s saying it only to fill the silence.

I don’t look up.

“We don’t have to talk,” I snap, keeping my eyes on the needle.

His mouth shuts with a click. For a moment, the only sound is the scratch of thread through skin and the low crackle of the fire. His shoulders draw inward as he stares at the floor, jaw clenched, retreating into himself. I knot the stitch off, then glance at him, when guilt prickles me.

“Hey,” I call out softly, surprising myself. “I didn’t mean to… Umm…Thank you… For helping. Not everyone would’ve.”

His eyes lift, searching mine, as he reaches out to take my hand and begins to wrap it in gauze.

“I’ve known strong men who would weep doing what you’re doing,” he says softly. “May I know your name?”

“Only if you tell me yours first.”

“Oliver.”

“Alyssa.”

He studies me for a minute before asking, “So, Alyssa, why are you here?”

I meet his gaze but stay silent.

“Do I need to tell you why I’m out here first?” Oliver asks, one brow lifting.

A half smile tugs at my lips, and for a split second, a flicker of light sparks in his eyes.

“I live out here because it’s safer. For me… For everyone else. Out here, I can be myself without risking lives,” Oliver admits.

“You don’t seem dangerous.”

“That’s because you don’t know me. And for your sake, it’s better we keep it this way.”

“Then maybe we should stop asking questions. If you can point me back toward the magicless realm, I’ll be on my way.”

Oliver’s gaze holds mine for a heartbeat, allowing me to catch a haunted flicker in his eyes before he looks away. His ears twitch, snapping his attention elsewhere.

“Fine,” he forces out. “But you should leave now. It won’t be long before they find me here.”

The words hang between us, heavy with something unspoken. I want to ask who or what he means, but instead swallow it down. I can’t afford to get caught up in strangers, not when I should be disappearing.

We step outside. The fire’s glow dies behind us, replaced by star-scattered dark. The moon has vanished, causing the forest to loom in black and seem endless. He lifts his hand, aligning his finger with the constellations overhead, tracing a path only he seems to understand.

“This is east,” he instructs, a quiet urgency in his tone. “Stay straight, follow the pull of the wind. When you reach the fallen tree, turn right and keep walking about fifty paces until you meet the thorned hedge. From there, follow it along until you find the opening. That’s your way out.”

“Thanks…for everything. And for what it’s worth, you don’t seem like someone who’d intentionally hurt anyone.”

His voice is low, almost pained, when he murmurs, “Maybe it’s because you don’t know what I’m capable of.”

Before I can respond, a woman’s voice cuts through the trees, the same one from before.

“She’s coming! Go,” Oliver warns, shoving me forward.

I stumble, then run. Branches whip against my face as the forest stretches endlessly ahead. Right when my legs begin to give, the trees start to thin, and faint light bleeds through the canopy. Dawn creeps in slow and gold, spilling warmth across my skin. Relief floods me. I made it.

After what feels like half an hour, the ground opens into a clearing. I push through, breath ragged, only to freeze.

The Academy rises before me.

My chest sinks. I thought I was running free, but he’s led me straight back to the place I wanted to escape. Elder Yona stands in the courtyard with a cluster of professors. I try to duck away unseen, but her eyes lock on me instantly.