CRESCENT MOON RISING

CHAPTER TWO

Dorm room 217 was small, bare, and exactly what Sasha needed.

White walls. A bed with institutional sheets and a pillow that had definitely seen better decades. A desk under a window that looked out at the quad, the clock tower visible in the distance. A closet the size of a coffin. A mirror that reflected her tired face back at her—dark circles under amber eyes, hair a mess from the bus ride, lips pressed into a thin line of determination.

No expectations. No memories. No ghosts.

She unpacked slowly, methodically, the way her grandmother had taught her. Clothes in the dresser, folded just so. Books on the shelf, arranged by height because Grandma had been particular about that. Camera equipment arranged carefully on the desk—her Nikon, her old film camera from high school, the portfolio she'd been building since she was fourteen.

Photographs of Portland streets in the rain. Of trees in the park. Of her grandmother's hands holding a cup of tea, wrinkled and spotted and so alive in that moment.

The last photo made her chest ache so sharply she had to sit down.

Grandma had been gone for six months. Six months, and Sasha still reached for the phone to call her when something funny happened. Still expected to smell lavender when she walked through the apartment door. Still woke up some mornings forgetting, just for a moment, that the world had fundamentally changed.

She set the photo on the windowsill, facing out. Grandma would have liked the view. She'd always loved watching people, loved imagining their stories. Everyone has a story, she used to say. Even the ones who seem ordinary. Especially them.

A knock at the door made Sasha jump.

"Sasha Laurent?" A woman's voice, brisk and official. No warmth, no hesitation. Just business.

Sasha opened the door to find a middle-aged witch with sharp eyes and a clipboard. The woman was tall, severe, dressed in dark colors that screamed authority. Her hair was pulled back so tightly it looked painful. Her mouth was a thin line that probably hadn't smiled in decades.

"I'm Professor Okonkwo, head of student affairs. Welcome to Veritas."

"Thank you." Sasha stepped aside to let her in, heart rate already climbing. "Can I help you with something?"

"Just a wellness check. We like to meet all new students personally." Professor Okonkwo's eyes swept the room, taking in everything—the unpacked boxes, the camera equipment, the photograph in the window. Cataloging. Assessing. Filing away for later. "You came alone."

It wasn't a question, but Sasha answered anyway. "Yes."

"Family?"

"My grandmother passed. Recently." Sasha's voice stayed steady through long practice. "It's just me now."

"I'm sorry for your loss." She didn't sound sorry. She sounded assessing, like she was calculating how this information might be useful. "And your parents?"

Sasha had been waiting for this question her whole life. Had rehearsed answers, perfected lies, learned exactly which version of the truth to tell and which to bury. "I don't know them."

Professor Okonkwo's gaze sharpened. Something flickered in her eyes—interest, maybe. Or suspicion. "I see." She made a note on her clipboard, the scratch of pen against paper unnaturally loud in the small room. "Well, you'll find Veritas is very welcoming to students from... unconventional backgrounds. We have support systems in place for those who need them."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. It was the smile of someone who had already decided exactly what kind of person you were and was simply waiting for you to confirm it.

"If you experience any difficulties—with your studies, with other students, with anything—please don't hesitate to reach out." She pressed a card into Sasha's hand. Silver lettering on black. Professor Amara Okonkwo, Head of Student Affairs. By appointment only.

"Thank you," Sasha said again, because what else was there to say?

Professor Okonkwo paused at the door. "One more thing. The full moon is in three days. Some students find it... intense. If you feel unusual, if your magic seems stronger than usual, that's normal. Veritas has safeguards in place." Another smile, sharper this time. "You're safe here, Sasha. As long as you're honest about what you are."

She left before Sasha could respond.

The door clicked shut, and Sasha leaned against it, heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat.

She knows, she thought. She knows what I am.

But that was impossible. Sasha had spent years hiding her hybrid nature. Her grandmother had spelled her room, her clothes, her very skin to mask the wolf. No one could see through that magic. No one.

Right?

She crossed to the window, watching Professor Okonkwo's figure disappear across the quad. The woman moved with purpose, never looking back, never hesitating. Like she already had everything she needed.

Sasha's hand went to her chest, feeling the steady thrum of her heartbeat. Beneath it, the quieter thrum of her magic. Beneath that, the almost imperceptible presence of her wolf, stirred by the full moon's approach.

You're safe here, Professor Okonkwo had said. As long as you're honest about what you are.

But Sasha had spent twenty years learning that honesty was a luxury she couldn't afford.