Chapter Two: The Weight of Wolves
1257 Words
The dormitory smelled like wet stone and something sharper, something alive. Musk and fur, even though no one here had shifted, at least not yet. My bag felt small in my hand as I stood in the doorway, watching bodies move in and out of the hall, claiming bunks, claiming corners, claiming air.
The place was a barracks—rows of iron-framed beds, thin mattresses, trunks already shoved under by those who’d arrived before me. The ceiling arched high and dark, rafters lost in shadow. Every sound—laughter, curses, the scrape of boots—echoed too loud, bouncing until it all bled together.
I hated it: too much noise, too many scents. My wolf pressed close to the surface, restless, agitated. She hated it too.
I picked the bed closest to the wall, farthest from the center, as I always did. Less chance of eyes on me. Less chance of someone noticing the way my breath caught when the air got too thick, or the way my skin prickled when anyone came too close.
But it didn’t matter. Eyes found me anyway.
“Gray,” a voice said, low and mocking.
I turned. A boy lounged against the bunk across from mine, arms crossed, smirk pulling at his mouth. His hair was a dark copper, his jaw sharp. He looked like trouble—the kind that enjoyed the taste of blood.
“How do you know my name?” I asked before I could stop myself.
He grinned wider, flashing teeth. “It’s on the list. We all saw it. Every name of every pup dragged here. You’re not invisible, Gray. Not anymore.”
My gut tightened. Invisible was all I’d ever wanted to be.
I didn’t answer. Just set my bag down, spine straight, pretending his words didn’t stick.
“Leave her, Cassian,” someone muttered.
The voice came from the far corner. Him.
The scarred boy from the courtyard.
Kai.
He hadn’t moved from where he sat on his bunk, long legs stretched out, elbows braced on his knees. His eyes were dark, unreadable, but fixed on Cassian with the kind of stillness that carried weight.
Cassian’s smirk faltered—just slightly. He raised his hands, in mock surrender, and wandered off toward a group clustered near the center.
Kai’s gaze lingered a second longer before he looked away, as if I wasn’t worth his attention.
But I felt it. The shift in the air. The warning in his voice, even though it hadn’t been aimed at me.
That night, sleep didn’t come. The beds creaked under restless bodies, whispers carried through the dark, muffled sobs from someone who hadn’t yet learned to hide them. I lay still, staring at the stone ceiling, counting heartbeats.
When sleep finally dragged me under, it wasn’t peaceful.
I dreamed of running—feet pounding through the forest, breath sharp, the moon huge and heavy above me. My wolf was close, too close, pressing against the skin of the dream until I thought I’d split apart. Shadows chased me, teeth snapping at my heels. And just when they caught me, when claws tore into my back—
I woke up with a gasp.
Sweat slicked my skin, dampened the sheets. My heart thundered, wolf thrashing in my chest.
The dormitory was quiet now, heavy with the slow breathing of sleep. But across the room, in the half-light spilling from a single torch, someone was awake.
Kai.
He sat on the edge of his bed, back straight, staring at the window as if the darkness outside spoke to him. The scar along his jaw caught the light, pale against his skin.
For a moment, I thought he might turn, might catch me watching.
But he didn’t move.
I forced myself to look away, clutching the sheet in my fist. This was dangerous. All of it. The Academy. The Trials. Him.
Especially him.
Morning came with a horn blast that rattled the windows. Bodies scrambled, curses flying as boots hit the floor, uniforms pulled on in hurried jerks.
The uniform was black—shirt, trousers, and boots. The fabric was stiff, the collar too tight. A crest stitched over the chest: the same crescent moon with claw marks. I pulled it on, hating how it itched and how it felt like shackles.
The courtyard was colder than yesterday, mist curling low, clinging to ankles. We were herded there in lines, guards watching with sharp eyes and hands on their blades.
Headmaster Riven waited on the steps again, his cloak flapping in the wind. His presence pressed down like a weight, heavy, unrelenting.
“Welcome to your first dawn,” he said. His voice carried, clear, every syllable cutting. “From this day forward, you are no longer children. You are no longer your parents’ burden, your packs’ shame, your villages’ pride. You belong to the Academy. You belong to us.”
The crowd shifted, some stiffening, some lowering heads.
Riven’s gaze swept over us, pausing now and then, like he could see straight into marrow. When his eyes landed on me, I fought not to flinch.
“You will be broken down,” he continued. “You will be tested. The Trials are not fair. They are not kind. They are what they are—and only those strong enough survive.”
My stomach twisted. Survive. He’d said it like not all of us would.
A murmur rippled through the students, quickly silenced by the slam of a guard’s spear against stone.
“The first Trial begins soon,” Riven said. “Until then, you will train. Body, mind, and wolf. Do not waste my time.”
He turned sharply, cloak sweeping, and disappeared into the building.
For a moment, the courtyard was still. Then the noise returned—nervous chatter, bravado, and curses.
I tried to slip away, to the edge, to quiet. But Cassian blocked my path, his grin sharp again.
“Scared yet, Gray?” he asked, voice pitched low so only I could hear. “You should be. Wolves eat the weak alive in here.”
My jaw tightened. I wanted to push past him, but my feet rooted. He leaned closer, breath hot. Then— “Back off.” Kai’s voice.
It wasn’t loud, but it carried. Cassian stiffened, his grin faltering, before he clicked his tongue and stepped aside exaggeratedly.
“Careful, Kai,” he said, mocking. “Pick the wrong pup to protect, and you’ll end up dragged down with her.”
Kai didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at me. Just turned, walking away like I hadn’t been there at all.
But my wolf was pacing again, restless, drawn to the shadow he left behind.
And I hated it.
That night, I sat by the narrow window in the dorm, knees pulled to my chest, staring at the moon. My wolf pressed close, too close, whispering things I didn’t want to hear.
He noticed you.
He warned him off.
He could be danger—or he could be salvation.
I pressed my forehead against the cold stone.
No. No ties. No weaknesses. I’d learned that lesson the hard way. Wolves who got too close burned each other alive.
But when I closed my eyes, I saw him again—Kai, still as stone in the moonlight, scar catching the glow, eyes darker than shadow.
And I knew that whatever was happening here, whatever the Trials would demand of me, he would be at the center.
Whether I wanted him to be or not.
- Writer
