With Wolves

Roxy

Roxanne Ravensong had always known she was different—not just from normal people, but even from other members of her own family. While other Ravensong children struggled to light candles or levitate feathers well into their teenage years, Roxy had been performing complex spells by age seven. By ten, she could read magical signatures like other people read facial expressions. And by fifteen, she'd manifested the rarest and most dangerous gift a mage could possess: she was a seer. The ability to glimpse possible futures, to read the threads of fate, to occasionally even influence probability itself—these weren't skills you learned from books. They were raw, chaotic powers that drove most people who possessed them completely insane. But Roxy had mastered them with the same disciplined control she brought to everything else in her life. She was beautiful and she knew it, she was powerful and she wielded that power with precision. She moved through both the normal world of HavenClaw Institute and the hidden supernatural society with the confidence of someone who had never doubted her place at the top of both hierarchies. People wanted her attention, wanted her approval, wanted just a moment of her time and Roxy was selective about who received any of those things.

This morning had shattered her usual composure, she'd been getting ready for class, standing in front of her mirror and debating between two different outfits, when the wave had hit. A pulse of magical energy so powerful it had actually knocked her back a step, making her grab the edge of her dresser for balance. The sensation had rolled through the entire estate like an earthquake made of pure power, and for a moment—just a brief, terrifying moment—Roxy's carefully maintained control had wavered. The pulse had been massive, pure and completely unidentifiable. Roxy had abandoned her morning routine immediately, throwing on the first clothes she could grab and running through the mansion's hallways toward the mage's court. The court was a section of the estate that existed slightly outside normal space—a magical construct where the family's most powerful practitioners gathered to monitor threats, maintain wards, and handle supernatural crises. When she'd burst through the doors, she'd found the court already in organized chaos. Mages stood at various stations, their hands moving through the air as they manipulated complex magical displays that showed energy flows, ward integrity, and dimensional stability. Timon, one of the senior mages and her grandmother's most trusted advisor, had looked up as she entered. "Report," Roxy had said, not bothering with pleasantries. Timon had gestured to the main display, where waves of energy were still rippling outward from a central point. "We registered the pulse approximately seven minutes ago. Magnitude is off our usual scale—we're talking about power levels we haven't seen in decades. But here's what's strange: we can't identify the source." "What do you mean you can't identify it?" Roxy had moved closer to the display, studying the patterns with practiced eyes. "I mean exactly that. The energy signature doesn't match anything in our archives. It's too pure to be from any single practitioner we know of, and the pattern doesn't correspond to any known magical bloodline or artifact activation." Timon had looked genuinely concerned, which was unusual for a man who'd faced down demons and survived three separate attempts on his life. "It's like nothing we've ever encountered." Roxy had felt a chill run down her spine. "What are the possible effects? Both positive and negative." "That's difficult to say without knowing the source, but—" "Timon" Roxy's voice had taken on the edge of command that made even senior mages snap to attention. "Best assessment. Now." Timon had pulled up another display, this one showing probability matrices and outcome projections. "Positive scenarios: it could be a natural magical phenomenon, a convergence of ley lines, or the manifestation of a previously dormant power source that poses no threat. Negative scenarios range from a breach in dimensional barriers to the awakening of something that was deliberately sealed away for very good reasons."

Before Roxy could respond, the temperature in the room had dropped noticeably. Every mage in the court had immediately straightened, their casual working postures shifting to formal attention. Roxy had turned to see her grandmother entering the chamber. Gillian Ravensong didn't need to announce her presence. The air itself seemed to acknowledge her authority. She was a woman in her seventies who looked perhaps fifty, with silver hair pulled back in an elegant knot and eyes that missed absolutely nothing. She'd led the Ravensong family for forty years, navigating supernatural politics with a combination of ruthless pragmatism and genuine wisdom that had earned both respect and fear from every major faction. "Grandmother," Roxy had said, inclining her head with the proper respect. Around the room, every other mage had done the same. Gillian had acknowledged the greetings with a slight nod, then turned her attention to Roxy. "I felt it from the east wing. I assume you've been briefed?" "Yes, Grandmother. Timon was just explaining the possible scenarios—" Gillian had held up a hand, stopping her mid-sentence. "Before we discuss crisis management, tell me: have you had any visions recently? Anything that might have warned you this was coming?" Roxy had hesitated for just a fraction of a second. "No, Grandmother. I checked the timelines this morning specifically because of tonight's party. I wanted to ensure there would be no complications." "And you saw nothing concerning?" "Nothing hostile," Roxy had said, which was technically true. What she hadn't mentioned was the void she'd encountered during her vision—a blank space in the future where her sight simply couldn't penetrate. It hadn't felt dangerous, just... empty. Like looking at a piece of reality that her powers couldn't quite focus on. She'd dismissed it as a blind spot, something that occasionally happened when too many variables were in play. She'd never thought it would be a problem. Gillian had studied her granddaughter's face for a long moment, and Roxy had kept her expression carefully neutral, meeting her grandmother's gaze with practiced composure. Finally, Gillian had nodded. "Very well. Timon, continue monitoring. I want updates every hour. Roxy, you may go prepare for your classes." "Yes, Grandmother." Roxy had left the mage's court feeling unsettled but not quite alarmed enough to cancel her party. Whatever the pulse had been, the family's best mages were on it as she'd done her due diligence, everything would be fine.

She'd headed down to the dining hall for breakfast, still thinking about the mysterious energy pulse, when she'd found someone unexpected already seated at the long table. "Kass?" Roxy had stopped in the doorway, genuinely surprised. "I wasn't expecting to see you down here." Kassandra had looked up from her plate with a smile that seemed more relaxed than usual. "I was feeling a little better today. Decided to have breakfast in the dining hall instead of my room for once." Roxy had taken her seat at the table, and attendants had immediately appeared to bring her food. The cousins had eaten in comfortable enough silence—they'd never been particularly close despite growing up in the same house, their vastly different relationships with their powers creating an invisible wall between them. Roxy, who controlled everything, and Kass, who controlled nothing. When Roxy had finished eating, she'd stood and gathered her things. "Please try to keep your powers in check tonight," she'd said, the words coming out more sharply than she'd intended. "I'd rather not have my party ruined by one of your episodes." Kassandra's expression hadn't changed, but Roxy had seen something flicker in her cousin's eyes—hurt, maybe, or resignation.Roxy had left without another word, already moving on to the next item on her mental checklist. She'd had lectures to attend, a party to finalize, and apparently a mysterious magical phenomenon to worry about.

The drive to campus in her Maserati had been smooth and fast, exactly how Roxy liked it. When she'd pulled into the parking lot, people had immediately started gathering—they always did. Students wanted to see the car, take pictures, say hello, be seen talking to her. Roxy had accepted the attention as her due, smiling and making small talk with the people who mattered while ignoring those who didn't. That's when she'd noticed him. Standing at the very back of the small crowd, looking completely uninterested in the spectacle happening around him, was a guy she'd never seen before. Dark hair, striking blue eyes, features that would have made him stand out even if he'd been trying to blend in. But what had really caught Roxy's attention was the energy. She felt traces of magical power coming from him—faint but definitely there. Except it didn't feel like anything she'd encountered before. Roxy had felt every type of magical energy that existed. She could distinguish between mage magic, werewolf power, vampire influence, and even divine or infernal signatures. Each one had a distinct flavor, a particular resonance that identified its source. This person's energy was... different, unique in a way that immediately piqued her interest. Roxy had walked directly toward him, ignoring the surprised looks from the students she passed. She'd introduced herself, gotten his name—Nero, just Nero—and invited him to her party that night. The whole interaction had taken maybe two minutes, but those two minutes had left Roxy thinking about him for the rest of the day. What was that energy she'd felt? Why was it so different from anything else she'd encountered? During her lecture which she'd barely paid attention to despite normally enjoying her classes—Roxy had found herself comparing the energy signature she'd felt from Nero to the massive pulse from that morning. They were both unusual, both unique, but they felt different. The morning pulse had been overwhelming, like standing in front of a tidal wave. Nero's energy had been subtle, controlled, like still water that was far deeper than it appeared. What a unique guy, she'd thought, feeling more interested in someone than she had been in a very long time.

After lectures, Roxy had taken Amy and Abigail with her for shopping. They were high-class girls from legacy families—Amy's family were powerful mages who specialized in elemental magic, and Abigail came from a line of rare mages, though her abilities were nowhere near as strong as Roxy's. They were useful friends to have, socially connected and loyal enough to be trustworthy. They'd chatted while browsing through expensive boutiques, the conversation flowing through the usual topics. Boys in general, classes, the upcoming party. Amy had brought up the werewolf boys on the football team, giggling about how Norman Fischer had apparently been turned down by some scholarship student. "Can you believe someone actually said no to Norman?" Abigail had said, holding up a dress and considering it. "I didn't think that was possible." "Maybe he's not everyone's type," Roxy had replied absently, more focused on finding the perfect accessories for her outfit than on campus gossip. That's when the topic had shifted to Nero. "So," Amy had said with a knowing smile, "I heard you invited someone new to the party. Personally invited him. Want to tell us about that?" Roxy had felt both girls' attention lock onto her with laser focus. "There's nothing to tell yet," Roxy had said, keeping her tone casual. "You'll meet him at the party." "Oh come on," Abigail had pressed. "Give us something. Is he hot? Is he from one of the families? Where did he come from?" "Wait for the party," Roxy had repeated, but she'd been smiling. Let them be curious. Let everyone be curious. That would only make Nero's presence more interesting.

Back at the mansion, Roxy had thrown herself into final preparations. She'd walked through every room that would be used for the party, assigning tasks to the household staff with the precision of a general deploying troops. Decorations here, bar setup there, music equipment in the main hall, catering stations in three locations to prevent bottlenecks. Then she'd gone to her room and called Nero. Her friends had been in her suite when she'd made the call, and they'd immediately gone silent, straining to hear both sides of the conversation. Roxy had rolled her eyes at their obvious eavesdropping but hadn't sent them away. "Hey, it's Roxy," she'd said when Nero had answered. "Just wanted to confirm you're still coming tonight." "Yeah, I'll be there," Nero had replied, and just hearing his voice had made something in Roxy's chest feel lighter. "Good. I'll see you at eight." When she'd hung up, Amy and Abigail had exploded with questions and excitement, demanding to know everything about her conversation. Roxy had told them they could meet Nero at the party, though she'd been reluctant to share him even that much. She wanted this evening to go perfectly. Wanted to figure out what made this guy so different, so unique.

When the party had finally started, Roxy couldn't sit still. She'd stood at the top of the grand staircase, watching guests arrive, but she wasn't particularly interested in anyone who'd shown up so far. Amy and Abigail had gone down to dance, but Roxy had stayed where she was, scanning the crowd. All she wanted was to see Nero. Then he'd come through the door, and Roxy had called out his name before she could stop herself. The entire party had gone quiet, everyone turning to watch as she'd descended the stairs. She'd felt their eyes, their curiosity, their speculation, and she'd used it. Let them wonder. Let them talk. She'd reached Nero and they'd been talking—actually talking, not just the superficial small talk she usually engaged in at these events—when one of the household attendants had appeared at her elbow. The woman had leaned in close and whispered, "Miss Roxanne, there's an issue with the magical energy from this morning. Your attention is needed in the mage's court immediately. Lady Gillian is away at a council meeting." Roxy had felt her entire body tense with frustration. Not now. Not when Nero was finally here, when she'd been looking forward to this all day. She'd wanted him to herself tonight. Wanted to enjoy this party with someone different, someone not predictable, someone unique and interesting and yes, objectively very attractive. But duty was duty, and the family came first. It always did. She'd apologized to Nero, promised to find him as soon as she was done, and then left for the mage's court with a sick feeling in her stomach that had nothing to do with magical threats and everything to do with missed opportunities.

The briefing had been concerning. The magical energy from the morning was being absorbed by someone or something, but the mages still couldn't identify the source or the recipient. They were running diagnostic spells, trying to track the flow of power, but it was like trying to catch smoke with their bare hands. Roxy had tried using her seer ability to get a glimpse of what was happening, but she'd hit that same void she'd encountered that morning—a blank space where her vision simply couldn't penetrate. It was frustrating and more than a little alarming, but there was nothing she could do about it right now. She'd given Timon and the other mages clear instructions: continue monitoring, run every diagnostic they had, and inform her immediately if anything changed. Then she'd left the court and headed back toward the party, already planning how to salvage the evening. That's when her phone had chimed. Multiple messages came through at once—from Amy, from Abigail, from the campus gossip group chat. Roxy had opened them and felt her blood run cold. Photos, videos, all of them showing Kassandra and Nero on the dance floor together, moving in perfect sync like they'd been dancing together for years. The captions ranged from shocked to impressed to wildly speculative. "Hottest dance of the year" "Who knew Kass could move like that" "Nero and the mystery Ravensong—new power couple?" Roxy had felt fury rise in her chest, hot and immediate. "Vixen," she'd hissed, staring at a particularly clear photo of Kass and Nero looking at each other with an intensity that made Roxy want to throw her phone. "How dare she." She'd tried to calm herself as she'd walked back to the party, taking deep breaths and reminding herself that losing control wouldn't help. But when she'd reached the main hall and looked around, she couldn't find either of them. Nero was gone. Kass was gone. Roxy had pulled out her phone again and typed a quick message to her friends: "Where are they?" The response had come back almost immediately: "We don't know. They ran off somewhere. We're looking." "This is not going to end well for you, Kass," Roxy had muttered, her carefully maintained composure finally cracking. She'd found Amy and Abigail near the bar, along with a few of the werewolf boys from the football team who'd been hanging around them. Norman Fischer was there too, looking slightly drunk and very willing to help with whatever Roxy needed. "We're going to find them," Roxy had announced. "Split up. Check the gardens, the side wings, anywhere they might have gone. And when you find them, text me immediately." Her friends and the werewolf boys had nodded and scattered, moving off in different directions to search the estate. Roxy had stood in the middle of her own party, surrounded by people having fun and completely unaware of the storm brewing inside her, and felt something she rarely experienced: genuine uncertainty about what came next. But one thing she knew for sure—she was going to find Nero and Kass. And when she did, there were going to be some very serious conversations about boundaries, family loyalty, and exactly what Kassandra thought she was doing with the one person Roxy had actually been interested in. She started walking toward the back gardens, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor, her expression set in determined lines. Tonight was far from over.