Chapter 3-Draven
1279 Words
The moment she looks away from me, the air stops moving.
Claire De Catherine Quinn.
I didn’t know her name before today.
But the second I stepped through that door, the world shifted.
My wolf lunged forward like it had been caged for years, snarling, demanding—
There.
Her.
Mine.
I forced it down. Barely. She doesn’t smell like a normal witch. Not like a demigod either. She smells like moonfire. Like storm magic wrapped in sunlight. Like destiny. Something I don’t believe in.
Not anymore.
I should look away. I should focus on the damn lecture. But I can’t. My eyes keep drifting to her—her hair, the curve of her jaw, the way her magic snaps and flares under her skin, like she’s desperately trying to hide what she is.
And failing. She’s dangerous. Not because of power. Because she makes my wolf kneel. I don’t kneel for anyone. I’m still staring at the back of her head when it hits me.
A pulse. Soft at first. Then sharper.
Then a violent surge of magic that slams into my chest like a tidal wave.
My claws punch through my fingertips before I can stop them. What the hell was that? The professor keeps droning on, oblivious. Students are half-asleep. But I’m frozen, every nerve on high alert.
Another surge hits—wilder, unfocused, spiraling like a scream I can’t hear.
Not Claire.
No. This magic is younger.
Raw.
Untamed.
And powerful enough to shake the room if it wanted to. I stand so fast my chair screeches across the floor.
Claire jumps, startled. Her eyes meet mine. And I see it:
Fear.
Recognition.
A flicker of panic in her magic. She felt it too.
Professor Valen scowls. “Mr. Draven—”
“Quiet.”
The entire class gasps. I’ve never told a professor to shut up. I don’t even look at him. My attention is locked on Claire. Her heartbeat spikes. Her pupils widen.
Not guilty.
Worried.
Protective.
What the hell is she protecting? The surge pulses again, even stronger, and this time it slams down the bond between wolf and moon like someone yanking on a chain. My hands curl into fists. My teeth lengthen. My wolf snarls—
Pup. New. Ours. Go.
Pup?
I inhale sharply. And I finally understand the scent I picked up on Claire the moment I saw her.
Not just moonfire. Not just witch magic. Something smaller. Younger. Linked to her. A child. Her child.
No—
Not biologically hers.
The scent doesn’t match.
But the bond does.
And that surge—
That was a frightened little demi-witch unleashing accidental magic. Someone young. Someone powerful. Someone untrained. Someone crying out for her with their magic.
A low growl rumbles in my chest. I can’t stop it.
Claire pales.
She knows what’s happening. And I know she’s about to bolt. I step toward her. She steps back.
Fear flares in her eyes—but not of me.
For him. The pup. HER pup.
The magic spikes again—painful, panicked. He’s terrified. Something is wrong. And Claire is about to run to him.
But she’s not the only one who heard the cry. My wolf is already moving before I can stop him.
We go. We protect. Now.
Claire’s breath catches. “Draven—”
I growl, voice low and certain: “Take me to the child.”
The moment the words leave my mouth—
“Take me to the child.”
—the air changes.
Not magically. Divinely.
A pressure rolls through the classroom like the atmosphere dropping before a storm. The hairs on my arms rise. Students stiffen. Even Valen’s chalk snaps between his fingers.
But Claire— She goes still.
Not scared. Not startled. Recognizing something I can’t see yet.
The magic in the room stops vibrating. It bows. Every instinct in my body reacts. My wolf lowers its head without my permission.
And then—
A whisper brushes the back of my mind.
Soft. Ancient. Female.
“He is not ready. But you were summoned.”
My breath locks. Not a voice. A presence. A goddess.
Suddenly, the shadows in the corners of the classroom deepen, twisting together like black silk. The enchanted lights flicker once… twice… then flare with silver-blue flame. Students gasp. Some duck. A few cry out.
I don’t move. Neither does Claire.
Her eyes widen, shimmering with recognition. She knows this magic.
Hell— it’s made of her.
Silver mist gathers above us, swirling until it forms the faint outline of a woman—tall, veiled, crowned with crescent moons that cast cold light across the walls. Every student in the room drops to their knees. Even the professor collapses forward in a bow.
My wolf snarls in shock, then—Bows. Fully. Tail to earth. Head to the floor.
I’ve never seen him do that. Not for an Alpha. Not for an ancient vampire. Not even for the Moon herself.
The goddess’ form sharpens, features still hidden, but her voice is unmistakably clear.
“Daughter of my daughter…”
Her gaze turns toward Claire.
Claire exhales shakily, like she’s been waiting her whole life to hear that voice again.
“You run from what you already are.”
Her tone is neither cruel nor gentle.
It simply is.
Claire swallows, her voice barely a whisper.
“Goddess… I can’t do this alone.”
“Alone?”
The goddess’ veil turns toward me. The room chills instantly.
Her next words strike straight through bone, echoed by power older than the realms themselves: “The wolf was sent to you.”
Sent.
To her. My heart slams.
Claire’s head jerks toward me, panic and disbelief colliding in her expression. “No. No—he can’t—”
The goddess ignores her.
She descends a fraction closer, mist dropping like cold rain.
“The child is awakening.”
Claire’s breathing breaks. I feel the pulse again—Carter’s magic flaring in fear, wild and uncontrolled—and it’s getting worse.
“Go to him.” the goddess commands.
Claire flinches. “But—”
Her voice softens for the first time, ancient and aching: “Daughter… the boy does not cry for the realm. He cries for you.”
Claire’s magic spirals out of her in a burst of emotion that nearly knocks me back. And the goddess’ veil lifts just slightly toward me.
Not all the way.
Just enough to let me see eyes made of moonlight and shadow. Eyes that look through me.
“Wolf.”
My throat goes dry.
“If you fail the child,” she says, “You fail the Luna.”
Luna.
The word crashes over me like a tidal wave, splitting reality open, making my wolf howl so violently inside me that my knees nearly buckle.
Not Luna as in “moon.”
Not Luna as in “female wolf.”
Luna.
Chosen one.
Moon-bound.
Destined ruler.
Claire’s skin glows faintly, soft silver radiating from her veins.
And suddenly—
I understand everything.
Her power.
Her scent.
Her child.
Her fear.
The way the realm trembles around her without her noticing.
She’s not just a witch. She’s not just a demigod.
She is the Luna.
The one the Moon hides.
The one the wolves will kneel for.
The one the gods fear.
And the goddess’ final whisper seals it:
“Protect them both.”
The silver mist collapses—
And she is gone. Leaving only silence. Leaving only Claire. Leaving only the wolf inside me whispering with terrifying certainty:
Mine.
And somewhere across the realm—Carter screams again. This time loud enough to shatter glass.
- Writer
