Moon Called : Werewolf Academy (Book 1)

Chapter 12

The dining hall buzzes with a frantic energy, the air thick with the sweet, heavy scent of baked bread and cinnamon. Warm light filters through massive stained-glass windows, dappling the long wooden tables in a mosaic of colors. Above us, the high ceiling is anchored by rustic chandeliers, giving the vast space a medieval, castle-like weight.

Ariah grabs my wrist, her grip firm as she hauls me through the sea of students. I stumble after her, navigating the jumble of laughter and clattering silverware.

Then, the atmosphere shifts.

Slowly, the noise begins to dip. Heads turn. Conversations die mid-sentence as eyes lock onto me. Whispers ripple through the crowd, accompanied by the sharp jab of pointing fingers.

I suddenly regret my high ponytail; with my hair up, my neck is completely exposed, putting my mark on center stage for the entire academy to judge.

It’s even worse than I expected.

No one else has a mark like mine.

Theirs are all neat, smaller versions of Elijah’s, lacking the jagged, paw-like print. And they definitely don’t have the hideous, dark veins—the ones Elijah promised would fade, but right now feel like a neon sign screaming that I don’t belong.

“Where exactly are you taking me?” I try to distract myself.

“I’m introducing you to our friends. You’re going to love them!” Ariah steers me toward the far corner where two students sit across from each other. My eyes narrow as we get closer, taking in the cluttered spread between them.

Tiny circles of neon confetti cling to every inch of the wood, scattered around two mismatched bowls—one overflowing with colorful hard candies and the other piled high with salt-dusted potato chips. In the center, a stack of soft-baked cookies oozing with buttercream sits like a makeshift cake, a single pink candle flickering at the summit.

A boy around my age with curly, light copper hair and a sturdy build rises, thrusting a crimson balloon toward me. “Happy belated birthday!” he chirps. His round face lights up, though his deep, warm brown eyes linger on my mark for a fraction of a second. “It’s not much, but we hope you like it. Welcome to the Academia of the Moon. You’re going to love it here.”

Well. This defies every expectation I had.

I struggle to muster a faint smile, my brain still trying to process everything. “Uh, thank you?” I glance at Ariah, hesitant. “What exactly is happening?”

She just grins. “We figured you deserved a proper birthday celebration. Come, sit.”

The second student at the table, a girl with lush raven curls and perfect mahogany skin, slides a tiny, ribbon-wrapped package across the confetti. Her dark eyes twinkle. “Hey there. I’m Celeste. This isn’t much, but trust me, they’re really good.” She jerks a thumb toward the boy. “That doofus is Nate.”

“Well, excuse me!” Nate plants his fists on his hips, mock-offended. “I have much more class than you, madame. I, unlike you, actually stood up to welcome our new bestie.”

“Sure you do.” Celeste rolls her eyes, waving him off as if he were a fly. “As for our new bestie, she wouldn’t even know your name if you hadn’t blurted it out. And if you’re going to fault my manners, at least I bothered with a gift. Unlike some people.”

Nate ignores Celeste and reaches for a cookie, but Ariah slaps his hand away. “The birthday girl needs to make a wish first.”

He sticks out his tongue and sinks back into his seat. “Rude.”

“Wait, you’re not psychic, are you?” Celeste asks, leaning in.

I sit down between her and Ariah, placing the wrapped gift on the table. “Nope.”

“Just checking.” She jerks a thumb toward Nate. “This one is. He told us last week we were going to make a new friend. We couldn’t imagine liking any of the students already here, but then you showed up.”

“You owe me fifty bucks,” Nate quips.

Celeste waves him off. “Anyway, he’s gay. You can talk to him about anything. He gets it.”

“Sure do.” Nate’s lips part, his eyes fixed on my cookie cake. “So, are you making a wish?”

“Let her settle in first, jeez!” Ariah huffs. “This is a lot to take in. She’s completely new to all of this. She comes from a human family.”

“Oh.” Nate exhales slowly, his expression softening. “I’m sorry. My stomach usually moves faster than my brain. This must be a lot for you.”

“Yeah. It’s going to take some time.” I pinch the edge of the table, the wood solid under my fingertips. “Before today, I believed werewolves ate humans.”

All three of them burst out laughing.

Nate slaps the table. “We’ve heard that before, but I promise, most of us are pretty harmless.”

“Some really do eat people,” Celeste says, pulling a face. “Though cannibalism is frowned upon. Even here.”

“Yep,” Ariah agrees. “Humans are actually more prone to that than our kind.”

“Sounds about right.” Nate’s gaze drifts back to my neck.

“Knock it off,” Celeste says, nudging him with her elbow. “She’ll tell us when she’s ready.”

I glance at Ariah, my brow raised in a silent question. She just shrugs. “Everyone’s curious why your mark is so different.”

A cold prickle of sweat tracks down my spine. “Different” is an understatement.

I take a steadying breath and launch into the explanation Mrs. Humphrey gave me, carefully omitting any mention of Luca.. I doubt getting marked by an exiled werewolf—a murderer—will sit well with anyone here. Especially since Ariah knows who he is—no doubt they’ll know too.

I barely finish when Nate bounces in his seat. “That is awesome!” he exclaims. “I’ve never met anyone with that mark. Some of the most powerful figures in our society have it—you have to be special.”

“It’s pretty, too,” Celeste muses. I couldn’t disagree more, but before I can get a word in, she continues. “Much better than this stamp of shame.”

“How is it a stamp of shame? Are you embarrassed by your own kind?” Ariah presses.

“That’s not what I mean,” Celeste snorts. “I love being a wolf, I just think the mark is ugly. Look how intricate hers is.”

Nate leans forward, squinting. “Yours looks like a crescent moon with a pattern and—” he makes a face. “I’m not even sure what those shapes are called.”

“They look like the symbols in the Book of the Divine,” Ariah says thoughtfully.

“Is that in the library?” I ask. When she nods, I lean in. “I’d love to see it. I want to know what these mean. Maybe it’ll give me some answers.” Or at least some reassurance that I’m not going to turn into a psycho because of the man who marked me.

“A quick heads-up—the staff will be watching you like a hawk if you check out that book. It’s special,” Celeste explains. “You aren’t allowed to take it out of the room.”

“Right.” I shift in my seat, my heart fluttering. “Can I ask you guys something? About our history?”

“Sure. Shoot,” Nate says, muffled by a bite of a muffin. “That’s what friends are for.”

A deep sadness churns in my chest. I’ve never had real friends; I don’t know what the rules are. Is it always this easy? Does it usually happen this fast, without any tests or challenges?

“So,” I push out a breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “Hypothetically… let’s say a wolf gets exiled for something incredibly bad. Like murder.”

“Yeah?” Celeste’s brows shoot toward her hairline.

“Well, let’s say they end up marking someone. Is that a bad thing?”

Ariah frowns. “No, because that’s impossible. Once you’re exiled, you lose your power. Without power, you can’t access the spiritual realm. You can’t mark anyone, period.”

“But let’s say it could happen.” I lift my chin, trying to mask my uneasiness. “Our magic comes from energy, right?” I recall seeing a line about that on Mrs. Humphrey’s wall. “So, whether the person marking you is good or evil… does that energy pass over to you?”

The three of them exchange a long look. It’s Celeste who finally answers. “We were born with our marks, but I’ve heard those who are recruited later do absorb some of their recruiter’s energy.”

My stomach turns. And mine happens to be a murderer. “I see. So you’d end up with some of their traits?”

Nate nods. “From what I’ve heard, yeah.”

“Why?” Ariah asks, her eyes searching mine. “Did your recruiter do something wrong?”

I shake my head a little too quickly. “No. No, I’m just curious.”

“Uh-huh.” Celeste’s tone says she doesn’t believe a word of it. But for once, my luck holds; they don’t push it.

“Hey, have you decided on a wish yet?” Nate bounces in his seat.

“Nate, for goodness sake!” Celeste laughs. “You’re incorrigible.”

I manage a small smile. “You guys can just eat the cookies. I don’t really believe in wishes.”

“Oh, honey, don’t do that.” Celeste reaches across the table and takes my hand. “You’re in our world now. Wishes can actually come true here. If I were you, I’d take the chance.”

“But does it still count? Since it isn’t actually my birthday anymore?” I ask.

“It’s worth a try,” Ariah urges. “We take wishes seriously around here. Now make one—and make it count.”

“And don’t tell a soul,” Nate adds.

I sigh and lean forward, closing my eyes. There’s a lot I could ask for. But the only thing I want right now is for these people to be the real deal. I can’t handle any more heartbreak, or any more hollow relationships that do more harm than good.

I open my eyes to find all three of them watching me with encouraging smiles.

Please, let this be real.

I lean in and blow out the candle.