Alyssa
Milla burst back into the room, juggling two bags of chips and a pair of soda cans. Her energy was a bright spark in the gloomy dorm.
"Mission accomplished!" she announced, tossing me a bag. "Cheesy dust is the perfect fuel for enduring long, threatening speeches from future tyrannical kings. You ready for this?"
I caught the bag, the crinkling sound loud in the quiet room. "As I'll ever be, I guess."
"That's the spirit," she said, though her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "Just stick with me. The Great Hall is designed for maximum intimidation. Find a seat in the middle, not too far back that you look scared, but not too close that you get noticed."
"The art of being invisible," I murmured.
"Exactly. It's a survival skill here. Come on, let's go get our dose of doom and gloom."
The Great Hall was even more imposing than I had imagined. Dark stone walls soared up to a vaulted ceiling painted with constellations. Hundreds of students were already there, their voices a low murmur that echoed in the vast space. The air was electric, a buzzing mix of excitement, fear, and raw power.
Just as Milla had said, the hierarchy was obvious. A group of students stood near the front, radiating an aura of untouchable arrogance. They were the Royals.
"See?" Milla whispered, nudging me towards a row of empty chairs halfway back. "Front row seats for the gods and goddesses of the school. Phoebe is already there, trying to look like she doesn't care that Evan dumped her."
I saw her immediately, a golden beacon of disdain. She was laughing with a tall, muscular guy, but her eyes kept flicking towards the empty space beside her.
"Who's the guy next to her with the friendly smile?" I asked, nodding towards a handsome wolf with warm brown hair who seemed completely at ease.
"Oh, that's Liam. Evan's Beta," Milla explained. "He's the good cop to Evan's bad-for-your-health cop. Don't be fooled though. He's loyal to Evan, which means he's just as dangerous, only nicer about it."
We sat down, and I tried to make myself as small as possible. The murmur of conversation died down abruptly. A heavy silence fell over the hall. It was so sudden, so complete, that it felt like the air had been sucked from the room.
"Showtime," Milla breathed, her voice barely a whisper.
He walked in from a side door near the stage. He didn't stride, he flowed. A predator moving through his own territory. He was tall, dressed in a perfectly tailored black jacket that made him look severe and formidable. His hair was as dark as a moonless night, and his face was all sharp angles and unforgiving lines.
He was the most beautiful and terrifying person I had ever seen.
The moment my eyes landed on him, something inside me jolted. It was a sharp, electric shock that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with that strange pull I'd felt from the woods. The air between us seemed to thin, to crackle with an invisible energy.
"That's him," Milla whispered, stating the obvious. "Prince Evan Anders."
He didn't look at the crowd. He moved directly to the lectern on the stage, his presence alone commanding more respect than any headmaster ever could. He placed his hands on either side of it and finally, slowly, lifted his gaze.
His eyes were the color of smoke and ice. They swept over the assembled students with an expression of profound boredom and contempt.
"Welcome to Obsidian Moon," he began, his voice a low, cold baritone that carried to every corner of the hall without any need for a microphone. "For those of you who are new, I will be clear. This is not a sanctuary for the hopeful. It is not a place for you to discover yourselves. This is a crucible."
He paused, letting the words sink in. No one moved. No one coughed.
"Here, you will be tested. You will be broken. And you will be judged. Your bloodline means nothing. Your family's wealth means nothing. The only currency that matters within these walls is power."
I felt a cold knot form in my stomach. I was bankrupt.
"My father, the King, believes our kind has grown soft," Evan continued, his voice hardening. "He believes we have been weakened by compassion, diluted by coddling the inferior. He is right. Weakness is a disease. And this Academy is the first step in burning out the infection."
A shiver went through the crowd. This was so much worse than Milla had described.
"Look at the person to your left. Now look to your right," he commanded. The rustle of clothing was the only sound as hundreds of heads turned. "By the end of this year, one of them will likely be gone. We do not carry dead weight. We do not tolerate failure. If you cannot keep up, you will be culled."
The word hung in the air, ugly and sharp.
"Your instructors will push you to your limits. Your rivals will show you no mercy. And I will be watching. I will be looking for the strong, the ruthless, the ones who are willing to do what it takes to stand at the top."
His icy gaze began to sweep across the room again, assessing, dismissing. One by one, students flinched as his eyes passed over them. It was like being weighed and found wanting by a god.
And then his eyes stopped.
They stopped on me.
The entire world narrowed to the space between us. The hundreds of other students faded into a blur. It was just his cold, calculating stare locking with mine. The air crackled again, thicker this time, a palpable force that made the hair on my arms stand up.
He didn't know me. He couldn't know me. But the look he gave me was not one of simple dismissal. It was personal. It was laced with a deep, inexplicable disgust.
A slow smirk, cruel and sharp, touched his lips. It wasn't a smile. It was a promise of pain. He held my gaze for a beat longer than was normal, long enough for the students sitting around me to notice.
Whispers erupted. Heads turned in my direction.
I felt my face flush hot with humiliation. My heart was pounding a frantic, terrified rhythm against my ribs. Why? Why was he looking at me like that? It felt as if he could see straight through my skin, right to the weak, shiftless secret I guarded so carefully.
Finally, with one last lingering look of contempt, he tore his eyes away and addressed the hall again.
"That is all," he said, his tone final. "Prove you belong here. Or get out of my sight."
He turned and walked off the stage without a backward glance, leaving a stunned and terrified silence in his wake.
The spell broke. The hall exploded with chatter. But it wasn't the normal post-assembly buzz. It was frantic, pointed. And I was the center of it.
"Alyssa," Milla whispered, her voice tight with shock. "What in the world was that?"
"I don't know," I managed to say, my voice trembling. I couldn't tear my eyes from the spot where he had stood. My skin felt like it was on fire.
"He looked at you like you were something he'd scraped off his shoe," another student behind us muttered.
"Who is she?" someone else asked.
"No one. Look at her. Her scent is barely there."
I shrank into my seat, wishing the stone floor would swallow me whole. I came here wanting to be invisible. But in the span of thirty seconds, the Ice Prince, the most powerful wolf in the school, had singled me out. He had painted a target on my back for the entire student body to see, and he'd done it without ever saying my name.
