Crimson desire: The werewolves prophecy

First Class

“Well, how was the meeting with the principal?” Lyra asked as she and Luna walked to their fourth class of the day.

“She seemed… nice,” Luna replied softly. “Welcomed me aboard.” Her voice trailed as her mind replayed her earlier run-in with Lucian—the way his expression had faltered before he walked away, almost as if something about her unsettled him.

“How touching,” Lyra teased with a grin.

“What class is this?” Luna asked, adjusting the straps of her backpack.

“Transforming and Shapeshifting 101—my favorite class,” Lyra squealed, oblivious to Luna’s unease. “You know why? Because I get to see everyone in their wolf forms.” She glanced sideways. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Just need to warm up a little.” Luna forced a smile, stretching her arms before dropping into a lunge. She flipped backward with fluid grace, landing softly.

“Whoa! Easy, girl.” Lyra laughed, gripping her shoulders. “I know you’re excited about this class, but relax. Bask it in.”

“Bask it in,” Luna echoed, bouncing lightly on her heels.

“And breathe. You’ve got this,” Lyra assured.

“Yeah… oh, are they dating?” Luna’s voice dipped as her gaze caught Rhea clinging to Lucian’s arm, flashing a perfect smile.

“No,” Lyra replied flatly. “Just best friends. We grew up together. Lucian’s my cousin.”

“Oh. You’re related?” Luna asked, her eyes lingering on Lucian, who looked thoroughly bored by whatever Draven was saying to him.

“Yes, unfortunately. That asshole is my cousin,” Lyra muttered.

Before Luna could reply, a deep commanding voice echoed. “Everyone, gather round.”

A man in his late fifties strode into the circle. His presence was sharp and authoritative, his cloak brushing the stones beneath his boots.

“I am Professor Alden,” he announced. “And I will be teaching you the discipline of shapeshifting.” His piercing gaze swept over the group. “Understand this: shapeshifting is not merely the act of turning into your wolf form. It is discipline—a bond between your human mind and your wolf’s instinct. The inexperienced among you will find it painful, every bone resisting the change. Some of you may even lose yourselves entirely if you allow emotion to take control. But mastery…” He paused, letting the silence sharpen his words. “…mastery means shifting at will. Not under the pull of the moon. Not under fear or rage. Control—that is what separates an Alpha from the rest.”

Luna stood stiffly, her palms damp as his words rang like a personal challenge. Students shifted uneasily, some excited, some nervous. Lucian remained unmoved—arms crossed, silver eyes gleaming with the calm confidence of someone born to command.

Professor Alden clasped his hands behind his back. “Enough theory. Today, you will try. One by one.”

A ripple of unease passed through the circle.

“You. Kieran,” Alden barked.

A tall boy stepped forward, trembling slightly. He closed his eyes, a growl vibrating in his chest. Bones cracked, fur spread across his body, and with a final shudder, a sleek grey wolf stood panting in his place.

“Better,” Alden said curtly. “But learn to control your breathing.”

His gaze moved. “Rhea. You’re next.”

The brown-haired girl smirked as if she had been waiting for this moment. With a sharp breath, her body rippled and shifted. A sleek black wolf stood proudly, her fur gleaming under the sun. Students murmured in admiration.

“Excellent,” Alden said. “Efficient. Controlled.”

Finally, his eyes locked on Luna. “Whitmore. Step forward.”

The circle went silent. Every stare landed on her as she walked to the center, her chest tight with dread. She forced her face into neutrality, though her hands trembled slightly at her sides.

“Shift,” Alden commanded.

Luna closed her eyes, reaching inward. She pictured the wolf within her, bones bending, silver fur pushing through her skin. She strained, nails biting into her palms.

Nothing.

Whispers stirred.

“She can’t do it…”

“Knew it.”

“Pathetic.”

Heat rose to her cheeks, but she kept her jaw firm. She tried again, harder, her body trembling from the effort. Still—nothing.

“Enough,” Alden’s voice cut cold and sharp. His eyes held disappointment as he turned away.

The whispers broke into laughter.

Luna lifted her chin, swallowing the sting of humiliation, refusing to let her shame show.

From the edge of the circle, Lucian’s silver eyes lingered on her. Unreadable. Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth curved—not in mockery, but in something darker. Interest.