The Lunar Crest Academy: Marked by The Lycans

The night bled into morning far too quickly.

I hadn’t slept, not truly. Healers and doctors had been in and out for hours, their hands cold, their potions foul, their techniques both ancient and experimental. Some pressed roots to my skin, others whispered chants in forgotten tongues, and one even drew blood from my wrists to trace symbols around my chest. I felt like a corpse on display. Kieran hadn’t moved much. He sat on the couch like a predator watching the aftermath of his hunt, silent, brooding, sharp-eyed.

But by dawn, the bleeding had stopped.

I could breathe again. The unbearable pressure in my chest had faded to a dull ache. My body wasn’t whole, but it was mending, finally. The healers packed up their satchels and murmured instructions about salves and bitter herbs I had to use every day if I wanted the wound to close faster. Then they left, bowing to Kieran before disappearing like ghosts.

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I pulled the blanket tighter around myself. My head throbbed, my throat was dry, but I felt....alive. Barely.

Kieran stood by the bed, his arms crossed, staring down at me.

"Tell me more about yourself," he said, voice low but clear.

The question startled me. I blinked up at him. "What?"

"I know you’re from a small feral pack, ShadowFang, but who were your parents?"

He wasn’t asking to be kind. He seemed like he answers.

"My father’s name was Gabriel Anderson. He was a beta," I replied quietly, unsure where this was going. "And my mum was Emily. She worked as a nurse in the Alpha’s infirmary. But they’re both dead now. Killed. Right in front of me me."

I didn’t know why I added that last part. Maybe to see if his expression would change. It didn’t.