Chapter 37 Wolves Without Masters
POV: Mina
The Academy fractures overnight.
I feel it happening through the walls of the Oracle chambers, through the bond connecting me to three devastated Alphas, through the ancient magic in the foundation that's been responding to my presence for months and is now screaming recognition.
The chambers Headmaster Thorne brought me to are in the oldest part of the Academy. North tower, top floor, rooms that haven't been occupied in centuries. Oracle symbols are carved into every doorframe, every window, protective runes that flared back to life the moment I crossed the threshold.
The rooms knew me. Recognized my blood. Welcomed me home to a place I'd never been but that had been waiting for me anyway.
I stand at the window looking down at the ceremonial grounds, now empty except for cleanup crews trying to repair the crack my transformation opened in the stone circle. Silver light still seeps from it occasionally, old magic refusing to be sealed again.
Behind me in the main chamber, the Trio is trying to figure out how to exist in the same space as me.
They followed me here because the bond demanded it. Their wolves wouldn't allow them to be anywhere else with threats surrounding me on all sides. But now that we're here, behind closed doors, they don't know what to do with themselves.
I can feel it through the bond. Their devastation and their wolves' obsessive need warring constantly. Their human minds screaming that they don't deserve to be here after what they did. Their wolves certain that here is exactly where they belong.
None of them have spoken since we entered these chambers.
Jax stands by the door, positioning himself between me and the only exit, his ice-blue eyes tracking every sound from the corridor outside. His mind working through tactical scenarios despite his emotional state. Guard. Protect. Think.
Logan paces along the far wall, unable to sit still, his wolf too agitated by proximity to mate and inability to act on it. His hands keep clenching and unclenching. Every few minutes he looks at me and then looks away, something raw moving across his face.
Asher has claimed a chair in the corner, sitting perfectly still, watching me with dark eyes that show every emotion his destroyed shields can't hide anymore. Calculating. Processing. Failing to find framework that makes this okay.
Through the bond I feel all of it. Every thought. Every emotion. Every moment of their wolves screaming one thing while their human minds scream another.
It should make me feel powerful. Should make me feel vindicated. They tortured me for four months and now they're tied to me forever, forced to protect me, forced to feel what I feel.
It just makes me tired.
Outside, the Academy continues fracturing.
I hear it in the sounds drifting through the window. Raised voices. Arguments. Groups forming and reforming. The social order that's existed here for decades crumbling as students try to figure out where they stand now that an Oracle has been revealed.
Some of the arguments are violent.
I hear one break out in the courtyard below, catch fragments of it even from this height.
"—abomination! The Council was right to hunt them!"
"—prophecy says she'll restore balance! Maybe the Council needs to fall!"
"—can't trust a wolf who kneels to anyone! The Trio are traitors!"
"—sacred tri-bond! The Moon Goddess chose them as her guardians!"
The fracture lines are clear. Those who see me as salvation versus those who see me as abomination. Those who think the Trio are blessed versus those who think they're tainted.
Through the bond I feel the Trio hearing the same arguments. Feel Jax cataloguing who's saying what, building his assessment of threats. Feel Logan's fury at anyone calling them traitors. Feel Asher's careful processing of how completely their social standing has collapsed.
They were untouchable yesterday. The Elite Trio. The wolves who ran this Academy through fear and dominance and carefully constructed hierarchy.
Today they're ostracized. Viewed as tainted for submitting. For being bound to something that shouldn't exist according to centuries of Council propaganda.
It should make me feel vindicated. It doesn't.
A knock at the door makes all three of them tense immediately. Jax's hand moves to the handle, his body language making it clear he'll decide who gets through.
"It's Lyro," a familiar voice calls from the corridor. "Can I come in?"
I nod at Jax. He opens the door.
Lyro enters carrying a tray with food and water. He looks at the three Alphas, at their protective positions, at the tension radiating from all of them, and raises an eyebrow but says nothing about it.
"Thought you might be hungry," he says, setting the tray on a table. "It's been six hours since the ceremony. You should eat."
Six hours. It feels longer and shorter simultaneously.
"Thank you," I tell him. My voice comes easier now after eighteen years of silence. Still strange to hear it, still strange to use it, but easier.
Lyro looks at me carefully. "There are Omegas leaving offerings outside your door. Food, flowers, small tokens. They're not coming in because your guard dogs won't let anyone near, but they wanted you to know they're grateful."
Through the bond I feel the Trio's wolves preen slightly at being called guard dogs. Their human minds are less enthusiastic about the description.
"Grateful for what?" I ask.
"For existing." Lyro's expression is serious. "Omegas have been at the bottom of the hierarchy for centuries. The prophecy says an Oracle will restore balance. To them, that means hope. That means maybe things change."
I think about that. About power structures and hierarchies and the weight of expectations I never asked for.
"There are also high-ranking Alphas calling emergency pack councils," Lyro continues. "Trying to figure out what your existence means for their power. Some want you dead. Some want to use you. Some are just terrified."
"And the Council?" I ask, even though I know the answer.
"Reports say they're mobilizing." Lyro's voice is grim. "Large force. Silver weapons. Experienced Oracle hunters. They'll be here within days."
Days. Not hours. That's more time than I expected. Probably means they're being careful, gathering enough force to be certain.
"The Keystone," I say. "Thorne mentioned a hidden vault."
"The archives, restricted section, behind seals that only Oracle blood can open." Lyro nods. "I've been down there. The seals are real. Nobody's gotten past them in living memory."
"Then that's where we go next," I decide. "Find the Keystone. Complete the prophecy. Before the Council gets here."
Through the bond I feel the Trio's immediate agreement. Their wolves seizing on purpose, on something they can do, on mission that lets them feel like they're protecting mate instead of just standing here drowning in guilt.
Lyro looks at me seriously. "You realize your presence is destabilizing everything. Students are choosing sides. Faculty is splitting. The Academy might tear itself apart before the Council even arrives."
"I know," I tell him quietly.
I can feel it through the foundation. The fractures spreading. The old certainties crumbling.
"Some people think that's the point," Lyro continues. "Think you're here to destroy the current order."
"Some people are right," I say.
Because what's the point of surviving the Council's hunt if the same corrupt system just continues? What's the point of completing the prophecy if nothing actually changes?
Rafe died for this. My mother died for this. Every Oracle who was hunted and killed died for this.
If their deaths are going to mean anything, the system that killed them has to fall.
Through the bond I feel the Trio processing that. Feel Jax's mind adjusting his framework to accommodate revolution instead of stability. Feel Logan's wolf approving of destruction of things that threatened mate. Feel Asher calculating what a world without the current hierarchy would look like.
Lyro nods slowly. "Then you should know—there are students who agree with you. Who want to help. Not many. But some."
"And students who want me dead," I add.
"Those too." He doesn't sugarcoat it. "You should be careful. Especially with food and water."
The warning registers. I look at the tray he brought.
"It's safe," he says quickly. "I prepared it myself, never left my sight. But moving forward, you should probably only eat things you prepare or watch being prepared. Or that your—" he glances at the Trio, "—guard dogs prepare."
Through the bond I feel their wolves' immediate agreement. Provide for mate. Ensure safety. They'd probably insist on preparing every meal from now on if their human minds weren't still too devastated to articulate it.
"I'll be careful," I tell Lyro.
He nods and heads for the door. Pauses there. "For what it's worth, my grandmother would be proud. An Oracle rising. Her prophecies coming true."
Then he's gone, leaving me alone with three Alphas and the weight of expectations I never asked for.
I turn back to the window and watch the Academy fracture beneath me.
The chaos continues through the night. More arguments. More faction-forming. Twice I hear sounds that might be actual fights breaking out. The careful hierarchy that's governed this place for decades falling apart in real time.
Around three in the morning, someone tries to kill me.
I'm standing at the window, not sleeping because sleep feels impossible, when I feel it through the old magic. Someone entering the Oracle chambers. Someone who shouldn't be here.
The Trio feels it simultaneously through the bond. All three of them moving before I can process what's happening.
Jax reaches the door first, his hand on the handle, his body blocking access.
Logan crosses to the window, positioning himself in front of me, his much larger frame creating a barrier.
Asher moves to the side, covering the angle someone might use to flank.
They do it without discussion. Without conscious plan. Just instinct. Mate bond driving them to coordinate defense.
The door opens without Jax allowing it. Someone has a key. Probably faculty access.
A student enters. I recognize him vaguely from classes. High-ranking Alpha family. Council loyalist. His eyes are wild with zealot certainty.
"Abomination," he says. "You shouldn't exist. The Council was right to hunt your kind."
He's carrying something. A glass. Offering it forward like a gift.
"Water," he says. "Thought you might be thirsty."
The glass is wrong. I can feel it through the magic. Something in the water that shouldn't be there. Something toxic. Silver-based poison, similar to what killed Rafe.
Through the bond I feel the Trio recognize the threat simultaneously. Feel their wolves surge with violence.
Logan moves first, the black wolf exploding out of human skin without transition, going straight for the student's throat.
The student drops the glass. It shatters. Poisoned water spreads across the floor, hissing slightly where it hits the protective runes carved into the stone.
Logan's wolf has the student by the throat, not biting down, just holding, waiting for permission.
Through the bond I feel Logan's human mind screaming to kill. Feel his wolf certain that threats to mate die. Period.
I should let him. Should let Logan tear out this student's throat and solve the problem permanently.
Rafe's voice echoes in my memory. "Don't lose yourself to revenge, sister."
I reach out with Oracle power instead. Not Silver Voice. Just magic. The kind my mother used. The kind that doesn't require violence.
I touch the student's mind through the power and show him what the poison would have done. Show him Rafe dying in the clearing, silver foam on his lips, the agony of it. Show him what he was trying to do to me.
Then I push him backward. Not physically. With magic. Send him stumbling toward the door with enough force that he trips and falls.
"Leave," I say quietly. "And tell anyone else with similar ideas: the next person who tries this won't walk away."
The student scrambles up and runs.
Logan's wolf shifts back to human. He's shaking with denied violence, his need to kill the threat warring with my command to let him live.
Through the bond I feel all three of them struggling with it. Their wolves certain that mercy is wrong. That threats to mate die. That I'm being too soft.
But I also feel something underneath that. Recognition that I could have killed with a thought. That I have power they don't fully understand. That I neutralized the threat without any of them having to act.
The student who ran will tell others. Will spread the story. The Oracle kills with a thought.
It's not true. But the fear is useful.
Through the window I watch the sun start to rise over the fractured Academy and think about mercy and violence and the line between the two.
The prophecy says I'll restore balance. But it doesn't say how. Doesn't say whether that requires mercy or force or some combination.
I'm still trying to figure that out when alarms blare across the Academy grounds.
Different alarms than the ceremonial bells. Security alarms. The kind that mean perimeter breach, incoming threat, defensive positions.
Through the bond I feel the Trio's immediate spike of adrenaline. Feel Jax's mind cataloguing what alarms mean which threat. Feel Logan's wolf screaming to fight. Feel Asher calculating odds.
I look out the window toward the Academy gates.
In the predawn light, I see them.
Council forces breaching the outer wards.
They came faster than Lyro's reports suggested. Maybe they were already moving before the ceremony. Maybe someone sent them updated intelligence about security weaknesses.
Either way, they're here.
Silver weapons. Trained hunters. Maybe fifty of them, spreading through the grounds with military precision.
Coming to finish what they started seventeen years ago when they killed my mother.
Coming to kill me.
The hunt has begun.