Chapter 79 Don't Carry It All by Yourself

Chapter 79 Don't Carry It All by Yourself

Ethan's POV

I was bored out of my mind. Not the kind of bored where you have nothing to do, but the kind where there's an empty hole inside that nothing can fill.

The walls of my room were closing in a little more each day. The ceiling pressed lower and lower, the air thick and damp, like a storage room that hadn't been aired out in forever.

I wanted to get out, to run, to jump, to do something that would make my heart race. But I had promised Olivia: stay in my room during suspension, eat on time, don't cause trouble.

Even though she didn't say it out loud, I knew she wanted me to follow the rules. She didn't care about the punishment—she cared about me.

So I stayed. I stayed put like a good boy.

When I was bored, I kept reading. Shifter classifications, bloodline tracing, rare species indexes—I had flipped through the same book three or four times until the corners curled up.

My notes piled up in a stack, the handwriting getting messier and messier until even I had to squint to read it.

Of course I had drawn a lot too, all pictures of Olivia. Her looking down at her notes, her biting her pen cap while thinking, her eyes crinkling first when she smiled, then her lips following.

But I couldn't capture her expression—that look she had been giving me lately.

It wasn't fear, wasn't avoidance, but something I couldn't quite name. She was looking, but not really seeing into my heart, like there was a layer of fog between us. I knew she was on the other side, but my hand couldn't reach through.

I rubbed my finger over the line of her lips in the drawing, trying to soften it. The next second, my heart jumped—it hurt, like being stabbed with a needle. The energy inside my body started getting restless.

This feeling was as intense as on Blood Moon night. Something was wrong.

Olivia was in trouble.

When I rushed out, my mind went blank. The hallway blurred past on both sides, wind rushing into my collar. My boots hit the stone floor harder with each step. My shoulder scraped the corner when I turned, but I didn't stop. I headed straight for that classroom—she had shown me her schedule, and she was in the Potions classroom.

The moment I opened the door, I froze.

The classroom was a mess. Several tables were overturned, broken glass scattered everywhere. A cauldron lay split in half in the corner, the air filled with a burnt, acrid smell mixed with herbs and something sickeningly sweet that had been scorched.

A few students stood pressed against the walls, faces pale. Some covered their mouths, some kept their heads down, no one spoke.

In the center of the classroom stood Olivia—no, that wasn't Olivia. What was that?

I couldn't believe my eyes. It was a bird, a bird covered entirely in golden-red feathers. The plumage spread from head to tail tip, each feather glowing like embers blown by wind—dimming, then brightening again, like breathing.

Its wings were half-spread, wingspan longer than my arms. The edges of the feathers were translucent, like burnt paper, thin enough to see the light behind them.

My instinct told me this bird was Olivia. She had her back to me, hadn't noticed I had arrived yet. But looking at that golden-red silhouette, I could feel her trembling.

She had never seen her shifted form. She didn't know what she had become.

I glanced at the professor.

"She purified the toxin." The professor's voice was shaking. "That girl was poisoned. She—so you're actually..."

Soon after, Olivia returned to her original form, smiling blankly, like she hadn't come back to herself yet.

"Olivia," I called her name softly. She turned around, her whole body taut like a string about to snap.

"You shifted." My heart was racing too. I could only try to keep my voice steady.

She didn't calm down. Her chest rose and fell faster, breathing quick and shallow. Her eyes swept back and forth across my face, not looking at my expression but searching for something—I didn't know what, but she was searching.

I reached out my hand. She stared at my hand for a long time, then slowly walked toward me. With each step her body swayed, like a toddler just learning to walk, legs not obeying, center of gravity never finding where it should be.

On the third step she couldn't hold on anymore. Her body pitched forward.

I caught her hand—her whole body was burning. It didn't hurt to touch, but you could tell how hot it had been.

Her head rested on my shoulder, her face buried in my neck. Her breath swept across my skin, rapid but steadier than before.

"Are you feeling bad?" I felt my own voice starting to waver, my fingertips trembling too.

She paused, then nodded and shook her head. Up, down, left, right, all mixed up—she didn't know either.

I wrapped one arm around her waist, the other hand slowly moving to the back of her head. Her hair felt the same as always, soft and cool, like after washing it without drying it completely. But at the roots there was a ring of fine down, pressed against her scalp, smoother than silk. When my fingers passed through, it fluffed up slightly, then slowly settled back down.

Only then did I realize her body hadn't completely returned to human form. Some parts were still in animal form.

"I'll teach you," I said softly, as if afraid of startling her.

I pulled back slightly, cupping her face with both hands. Her cheeks were still warm, hotter than usual, but not the burning-up kind of hot from before.

"Think of your human form," I said. "You're not changing back from an animal—you were human all along. You just temporarily forgot how to be human."

Her brow furrowed slightly.

"Think about your hands. Five fingers, nails, knuckles. Think about how your middle finger gets callused from holding a pen. Think about how your hair gets caught in the brush when you comb it in the morning."

Her brow relaxed a bit. The corner of her mouth twitched.

The down at her roots receded. The glow of feathers between her fingers dimmed bit by bit, like fire retreating into ash.

She collapsed against me. I held her. Her legs couldn't support her anymore, her full weight pressing on me. She was light, lighter than I had expected, like holding a bundle of wood that hadn't dried yet.

I glanced at the professor. She had already handed the unconscious girl over to the medical assistant.

"I'm taking her." My tone was firm.

The professor hesitated. "All right, but... the Dean will probably have news soon."

I didn't care. I only thought about how Olivia in my arms needed rest.

Outside, there were people in the hallway. News traveled faster than I had expected. A few students stood at the corner peeking over. I didn't look at them, didn't stop. Olivia's face was buried in my chest. She didn't see those people, and I didn't want her to see them either.

Her fingers clutched the side of my shirt, gripping tight, knuckles white.

By the time we got back to Eastridge Tower, she could barely keep her eyes open. I laid her on the bed. She rolled over to face the wall, curling up like a small animal retreating into its shell.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly.

"Olivia."

She didn't respond.

"Are you... okay?" I didn't dare speak loudly. But I heard her sniffling, very softly.