Chapter 2 A Name in the Fire

The halls of Ashwood Academy loomed around me, all dark wood and ancient stone, their sheer grandeur designed to remind people like me that we didn't belong. The students moved through the corridors with effortless grace, their voices ringing with easy confidence, their laughter carrying the sharpness of knives. I felt their stares not direct, but sideways glances filled with thinly veiled amusement or outright dismissal.

"Omegas weren't meant to be here," I thought.

I tightened my grip on my bag and pressed forward, scanning the corridors for a sign, anything to point me toward the Student Affairs office. I had no intention of drawing attention to myself, but wandering around like a lost child wasn't helping my case. I approached a girl near the staircase, and her sleek blonde hair cascading down the back of a fur-lined coat that probably cost more than everything I owned.

"Hey, sorry to bother you-do you know where the Student Affairs office is?"

She barely spared me a glance before turning away, and resuming the conversation with another girl as if I didn't exist. My stomach tightened, but I forced myself to keep my expression neutral.

" Fine. Whatever." I thought and tried again, this time with a group of students near the ornate fireplace.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for..."

And a boy with sharp, aristocratic features cut me off with a quiet scoff. "Omega." The word dripped from his lips, not loud, but loud enough. The others smirked, their laughter hushed but pointed. I wasn't stupid... I knew what I was in their world. Weak. Disposable. A mistake. But that didn't mean I had to act like it.

"Lost, little stray?"

The voice came from behind me laced with amusement. I turned to find a boy much older than me, watching me. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark tousled hair that curled slightly at the ends. His blazer was crisp, though his tie hung loose like he couldn't be bothered with formalities. Effortlessly powerful. Effortlessly dangerous. But it wasn't just his presence that made my pulse quicken. It was the symbol of his blazer.

A dark, intricate crest embroidered in silver thread. Two entwined serpents, fangs bared, circling a dagger. My breath hitched. I'd seen that symbol before.

"The Voss bloodline."



I read about it in a history book about werewolf dynasties, a family known for their cunning, their ruthlessness. A lineage that didn't just thrive in power, but controlled it from the shadows.

"I just need directions," I said, and he tilted his head, studying me as if deciding how much fun he wanted to have. Then, to my surprise, he smiled. "Of course. Happy to help."

Something in his voice made my stomach clench, but I didn't have any better options.

"The Student Affairs office is in the west wing," he said, gesturing lazily down the corridor. "Go down two flights of stairs, past the first set of iron doors, and you'll see a hallway lined with old paintings. Keep going until you reach a large, arched doorway. That's the office."

I nodded. "Thanks."

He grinned widened, but he said nothing as I turned and walked in the direction he'd pointed.

The further I went, the quieter the academy became. The low hum of conversation faded, the distant sound of footsteps growing sparse. The grand, open halls narrowed into dim corridors, and the golden morning light that had streamed through the windows earlier barely touched these walls.

I descended the stone stairs, and the iron doors groaned in protest when I pushed past them, revealing a long corridor lined with paintings. For a brief moment, I let out a breath. Maybe he hadn't been messing with me after all.

Then I noticed the paintings.

The figures, old scholars, warriors, leaders from centuries past stared down with dark eyes. Not just portraits. Not just art. Their gazes felt alive, unblinking, following my every step. And a chill crept up my spine. I swallowed hard and kept moving.

At the end of the hallway stood a single wooden door, slightly ajar. No sign, no plaque, nothing to mark it as Student Affairs. I felt something was wrong, and I hesitated, my instinct screaming to turn around, and I listened and decided to turn around and leave, but before I could do that out of the blues, I heard voices coming from the end of that wooden door and curiosity won over caution and I moved closer to it to hear it move clearly. I pressed my ear against the door and heard,

"... The trial is already set. The girl's presence changes nothing."

A pause. Then another voice, lower, controlled. "She's more of a threat than you realize."

My breath hitched. The Trial? What trial? And who was "the girl" they were talking about?

I edged closer, my heartbeat picking up as the words became clearer.

"... If she starts to suspect anything, we deal with it. Quietly."

The voices cut off. And I took a slow step back, fearing that they might see me being sneaky and the floorboard beneath my boot creaked and as I was redirecting my feet out of nowhere, a hand clamped around my wrist. My breath hitched, and my scream clawed up my throat, but before I could even think, I was yanked into the darkness.