chapter 4
937 Words
Nova’s POV
The girls’ dormitory hadn’t changed. Same ancient stone walls laced with creeping ivy, same narrow windows that overlooked the forest beyond the Academy grounds. It was beautiful in a haunting kind of way, like something out of a dream—or a memory you couldn’t quite place.
My room was tucked in the top corner of the west wing. Solitary. Quiet. Just the way I liked it.
I unpacked slowly, placing the single photo I owned on the windowsill. It was me, Elara, and my parents—Alpha Lawrence and Luna Rachel—standing in front of the Rosewood Packhouse during last year’s winter festival. My father was smiling, my mother holding my hand in hers.
I stared at it for a long time.
They couldn’t have children of their own. Not after the attack that nearly took Luna Rachel’s life. I was the answer to the prayers they’d whispered to the Moon Goddess for years. A miracle wrapped in a star-stitched blanket. A mystery with no origin.
Sometimes I wonder if that’s why I feel like I’m meant for something… more.
Sleep didn’t come easy that night. My wolf paced, unsettled by the pull of the Academy, the sense of destiny in the air. I heard footsteps in the hall. Doors creaking open. Whispers between new students about mates and rankings and whether the Lycan Prince was still as cold and untouchable as the rumors claimed.
I could’ve answered that one myself.
Yes.
And yes, but not for the reasons they think.
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Max’s POV
I stood alone on the top balcony of the Royal Wing, staring out at the sprawling courtyard below.
The Academy grounds glowed under moonlight—silent, still, but brimming with energy.
My room was twice the size of a normal dorm, fitted with private training access and reinforced walls. Not because I asked for it, but because when you’re the future king, no one takes chances.
I turned 22 this past spring. Most Lycans my age had either found their mate or were deep in warrior leadership. But me? Still here. Still waiting. Still preparing to carry a kingdom on my shoulders.
The Council had tried to send me to train in the Highlands, among the Elders. I refused. I needed to stay close—to watch, to observe. Something is coming. I can feel it in my bones, in my wolf’s growing agitation.
And Nova Rosewood?
She’s part of it. Whether she knows it or not.
I shouldn’t be thinking about her. But I am.
She unsettles me. Like a puzzle I wasn’t meant to solve.
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Nova’s POV
The morning came too soon. And with it, the first class: Shifter Theory and Governance.
I walked into the hall with Elara at my side, our schedules gripped tight in our hands.
The classroom was massive, circular, with ascending tiers of seats surrounding a single rune-marked platform. The moment I walked in, conversations dipped. Heads turned. Whispers started.
“She’s back...”
“Is that the Starborn?”
“ why’s she here?”
I ignored them.
As usual.
Then he walked in.
Max.
Late—deliberately, I was sure. He didn’t spare me a glance as he passed, but the air tightened around him like a storm gathering clouds. He sat two rows behind me. I could feel his eyes on the back of my neck the entire lecture.
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Max’s POV
She’s still top of the class. She absorbs everything like a sponge—silent but sharp.
Professor Aldren asked a question about shifter law history. Before I could even move to raise my hand, she answered it. Perfectly. Calmly. Without hesitation.
And everyone noticed.
Even Logan leaned over and muttered, “She’s not messing around this year.”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t stop watching her. Not like that. Not with desire—though I’d be lying if I said she wasn’t striking in her own quiet, dangerous way.
No. I was watching because my instincts told me to.
Because something in her blood vibrated against mine like static.
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Nova’s POV
Combat training was worse.
Not because it was hard—but because it was predictable.
Every year they pair us off by rank. And every year, Max and I end up face to face in the ring.
“Partners again,” he said, stepping into the sparring circle with that cocky, almost bored smile. “Try not to bruise that pretty face, Starstray.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t blink. You might miss it when I knock you on your royal ass.”
Gasps rippled through the circle. Elara chuckled. Even a few of Max’s friends seemed impressed.
The whistle blew.
He struck first—fast, low, sweeping. I countered. Pivoted. My wolf rose beneath my skin, not shifting, but itching for dominance.
We moved like fire and ice. A blur of motion and tension and breath. I could feel every inch of him—every calculated attack and controlled pullback.
Until, finally, he caught my arm and twisted—gentle but firm—and forced me off balance just enough to pin me to the mat.
His face hovered inches above mine.
“You’re getting better,” he said, breathing warm against my cheek.
I smirked, panting. “I’m just getting started.”
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Max’s POV
When she looked up at me—flushed, defiant, dangerous—I felt it again.
Not anger.
Not a challenge.
Something else.
The moon shifted in the sky above us. And for just a heartbeat… I wondered if the Moon Goddess had a cruel sense of humor.
- Writer
