Chapter 13 Chapter 13: Sharper Edges

Chapter 13 Chapter 13: Sharper Edges

The alarm on my phone buzzed at 5:45 a.m., soft but insistent, like it knew I’d already been awake for an hour, staring at the ceiling cracks. The intensive training phase was supposed to be twelve weeks—Kieran had said it plainly that first night in the woods. But the full Trials cycle stretched eight months, from the autumn hunt through the blood moon eclipse in late spring. We were only a third of the way through the grinder, and already I felt like I’d aged years.

I silenced it before it could wake Lyra. She was still curled on her side, breathing slow and even, the blanket pulled up to her chin like armor. The white flower was still hidden in my drawer. I hadn’t looked at it since last night. Hadn’t touched the note Kieran sent either. Both felt like live wires under my pillow.I dressed quietly—leggings, an old hoodie, and running shoes that were starting to split at the toe. The dorm hallway was empty except for the faint smell of someone’s burnt microwave popcorn from the floor below. I slipped out the side door into the gray pre-dawn. The air was cold enough to sting my lungs. Good. Pain was grounding.

The conditioning loop started at the forest edge. About twenty of us gathered under the sodium lights, breath fogging. No one talked much. We were all too tired, or too wired, or both. The TA—some senior legacy named Mara—blew her whistle once, sharply. We started running. I settled into the middle of the pack again. Not leading. Not trailing. Just… there. Invisible. Except my body wasn’t cooperating with the act anymore. Every footfall felt too loud in my own ears. I could pick out the individual rhythms: the heavy thud of Rowan’s strides three people ahead, the quicker patter of a girl whose name I didn’t know, the slight hitch in someone’s gait like an old injury.

I heard birds waking up half a mile away—sharp chirps cutting through the pine needles.
I smelled wet moss, decaying leaves, the metallic promise of rain still hours off. And then—pine. Smoke. Wolf. It hit me like a hand around my throat. Not faint. Not distant. Close. Too close. I stumbled. My sneaker caught a root I should have seen coming. I caught myself before I went down, but my heart slammed against my ribs hard enough to bruise. I scanned the trees to my left—dark trunks, dripping ferns, shadows layered on shadows. Nothing moved. But I felt it. Eyes on me. Steady. Unblinking.

I forced my legs to keep moving. Pushed the scent to the back of my mind like shoving dirty laundry under the bed. It didn’t go away. It just waited. By the time we looped back to the start point, my shirt was damp with sweat, and my pulse hadn’t settled. Mara called time. People bent over, hands on knees, breathing hard. I stood straighter than I should have. No one noticed. Or if they did, they didn’t comment. I walked back to the dorm alone.

The sky was turning the color of old bruises. I kept glancing over my shoulder. Pack Psychology was in the smaller lecture hall on the third floor of the old humanities building. The room smelled like cedar and chalk dust and faintly of whatever cologne the guy in the front row always wore. Professor Reyes—soft cardigans, gentle voice—projected a diagram of overlapping scent profiles on the screen.“Today we practice scent memory and emotional triggers,” she said. “Blindfolds on. You’ll be paired. Identify your partner by scent alone. No words. No touching unless instructed.”I hated blindfolds. Always had. Too much like the closet doors slamming shut in foster homes. But I tied the black cloth over my eyes anyway.

The world went dark. Sounds sharpened immediately—the rustle of clothing, someone shifting in their seat, the low hum of the projector fan.Reyes called pairs. I ended up with Rowan. Of course. He moved to stand in front of me. I felt the heat of him before I smelled him. Cedar. Leather. Something bright underneath, like cut grass after rain. Safe. Familiar in a way that made my shoulders loosen a fraction.“Lean in,” Reyes instructed quietly. “Breathe. Memorize.”I did. Inhaled slow. Rowan’s scent wrapped around me—solid, steady. Not threatening. Not electric. Just… there. Then the door opened. I didn’t need sight to know who it was.

The air changed. Heavy. Charged. Pine and smoke flooded the room like someone had opened a window to a forest fire. My own scent shifted before I could stop it—sharper, wilder, like fur bristling under skin. My nails itched. Rowan inhaled sharply. “Sage?” he whispered. Barely audible. I didn’t answer. Couldn’t.Kieran didn’t speak. He just stood there—I could feel exactly where, near the back wall, arms crossed, watching. The entire room felt smaller. Hotter. Reyes cleared her throat. “Continue.”We did. Or tried to. Rowan stepped back first. I yanked the blindfold off too fast. Our eyes met. He raised an eyebrow—subtle question.
I shook my head once. Don’t ask. Class ended. People filed out. I packed slowly, buying time. Rowan waited by the door until the room was almost empty, then stepped close.“Hallway,” he said quietly. I followed him out. The corridor was quieter than the room had been. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. He leaned against the wall, arms folded. “My family keeps pushing me to get close to you. Political bonding crap. Legacy alliances. You know how it works.”I crossed my arms. “Yeah. I know.”“I’m not playing that game.” His voice was low. Steady. “I mean it. I don’t want to court you because some council of old wolves decided our bloodlines would look good on paper. I just… want to be your friend. If you’ll let me.”I studied his face. No smirk. No charm. Just tired honesty.“I could use one person who isn’t lying to me,
” I said, finally. He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath. “Deal.”We walked back toward the quad in silence. Not uncomfortable. Just… quiet. The afternoon library study session was supposed to be casual. Ivy, Dex, and I claimed the back corner table near the mythology stacks. Cover: researching lunar phases for a fake assignment in Lore class. Real purpose: anything that might connect to Elena’s journal without drawing attention. Ivy spread out a notebook full of doodled moons. Dex had his laptop open to an astronomy site. I pulled Elena’s journal from my bag and opened it under the table, angled so only I could see. The page I landed on was one I’d read before, but it hit different today.

The bond isn’t always fate. Sometimes it’s a chain. They think proximity will make me forget I ever wanted to run. They’re wrong. My thumb traced the ink. Voss’s face flashed behind my eyes—silver hair, fatherly smile, the way he’d said you have her fire like it was a compliment and a threat at the same time. I closed the journal. Tucked it away. Ivy glanced over. “You okay?”“Fine.”She didn’t believe me. Didn’t push. We stayed until closing. I checked out nothing. Didn’t want a record of what I was reading.

Evening in the dorm was quiet. Lyra had another “family call”—she stepped out into the hallway with her phone, door clicking shut behind her. I waited ten minutes, then locked the door.Alone.I sat cross-legged on my bed. Closed my eyes. Focused.Campus sounds filtered in slowly at first, then all at once.The hum of the vending machine two floors down. Someone is laughing in the stairwell.

A door slamming. Wind is moving through the pines outside. And underneath it all—faint, far-off—howling.Not close. Not threatening. Just… there. Like a memory I didn’t own. My skin prickled. I opened my eyes fast. The room felt too small. I stood. Went to the window. Cracked it for air. The quad was dark except for the weak glow of path lights. Fog rolling in low. I felt watched again. Not the ghost wolf. Not Kieran.Something else.Or maybe just me. Jumping at shadows. I closed the window. Locked it. Lay back down. The flower in the drawer smelled stronger now. Pine and smoke were creeping under the wood like it wanted out.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Unknown number. I opened it with shaking fingers. The flower was a gift. Keep it close. – K.I stared at the screen until the words blurred. Then I deleted the message. Fingers still trembling. I turned off the light. But I didn’t sleep.