Chapter 52: A Letter From The Capital

Vance

Vance kicked a heavy leather boot against the base of an ancient pine tree, sending a shower of pine needles and damp earth flying into the thick underbrush.

The air in the outer forest was cool and sharp, smelling heavily of damp moss, decaying leaves, and wild pine. But no matter how deeply Vance inhaled through his nose, his inner wolf found absolutely nothing to feast upon. There was not a single trace of sweet, intoxicating wild jasmine.

"This is so stupid and completely useless," Vance barked out, his eyes flashing with sharp, golden irritation as he scanned the dense treeline. "I think that little Travis Whitelock boy was lying to our faces. I don’t think our fated mate is anywhere near here. I don’t smell a single hint of jasmine, and frankly, I don’t think anyone could ever actually live in a dense forest like this."

Malric didn’t look back at him. He stood a few feet ahead near the edge of a rocky ridge, his tall, muscular frame silhouetted against the pale afternoon sky, his eyes scanning the horizon.

"Calm down, Vance," Malric ordered, his deep voice carrying a firm, absolute authority. "We have already deployed a massive number of students both wolf shifters and several vampires, to search this whole sector. Vampires move fast. They should be completely done checking every single inch of this forest by tomorrow morning at the absolute latest."

Malric turned his head slightly, his sharp jawline clenching. "They will have checked this entire land. If they don’t find a single trace of her... then we will know for a absolute fact that the Whitelock boy was lying to us. And we will make him pay dearly for wasting our time."

Vance grunted, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his dark leather jacket. "Other than that, we just have to stand out here like idiots and keep searching."

Silence stretched between the brothers, save for the rustle of wind through the high canopy above. Vance shifted his weight, looking down at his boots as a strange, uncharacteristic weight settled heavily into his broad chest.

"You know..." Vance started, his voice dropping into a rare, quiet cadence that held none of his usual biting aggression. "I never thought that I would ever want a mate. I thought the whole Goddess bond thing was just some primitive, desperate myth people told themselves."

He looked up at the towering trees, his dark eyes softening slightly with a strange, fierce heat. "But after I saw her yesterday in that room... something inside of me just shifted. You know what I’m saying? I’ve never felt this crazy for someone that I don’t even know. I haven’t even spoken a single word to her yet. It’s completely insane."

Vance clenched his fists inside his pockets, his jaw tightening into a hard angle. "And honestly... it rubs me completely the wrong way that there’s a chance she’s out in this forest all alone. That she’s a rogue. It just... it rubs me the wrong way, man."

Malric let out a low, dangerous growl in the back of his throat, his golden eyes darkening to match the deep shadows of the woods.

"Me too," Malric admitted darkly, his shoulders broad and rigid. "I also don’t like the fact that there’s a possibility she is wandering around alone out here in the cold. An Omega rogue... with no pack to protect her."

Theo walked slowly up the steep dirt path toward them, stepping gracefully over a thick tree root. He brushed a stray strand of hair from his pale forehead, his eyes reflective as he listened to his brothers.

"So..." Theo asked smoothly, resting his hands casually on his hips as he looked between Vance and Malric. "What are we going to do if we actually find her out here?"

Vance scoffed slightly, though his eyes burned with an intense, possessive promise. "Well... that’s something we’ll figure out the second we lay our hands on her. But of course we are going to mate and bond with her. She’s our fated mate, the one chosen specifically for us by the Moon Goddess."

"That’s true," Theo agreed softly, a rare, genuine curve touching his lips. "She will have everything she could ever dream of. A life of absolute luxury in the capital palace. No more running. No more cold forests."

"We’ll give her the entire world," Vance growled softly, the possessive instinct of his wolf roaring beneath his skin. "She won’t ever have to lift a single finger. She’ll be safe with us. We just need to find her."

Roiner

Miles away from the cold pine forest, inside the grand, sunlit sanctuary of the Headmaster’s office, Roiner sat behind his massive desk.

The sunlight filtered through the grand stained-glass windows, illuminating the endless, towering piles of administrative documents, academy budgets, and disciplinary reports stacked neatly across the polished wood.

Normally, Roiner’s razor-sharp mind would have sliced through those documents in less than an hour. But today, the grand Headmaster of Moonside Academy hadn’t read a single line of text in over three hours.

Instead, he sat back in his high leather chair, his long, pale fingers lightly touching his lips, his crimson eyes staring blankly out the window toward the student quad.

Did she like my gift? Roiner wondered internally, his heart giving a quiet, rhythmic thud against his ribs. Did she find the boxes in her locker? Did she put the glasses on? Did the prescription work for her eyes? Did she use the inhaler?

He let out a heavy, quiet sigh, resting his elbows against the cool wood of his desk. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this. He knew that indulging in these small, romantic gestures with a mortal wolf-shifter was a dangerous, delicate line to cross. He knew the agonizing truth of his vampire heritage, that one day, decades from now, her mortal life would fade, and he would be left standing in the dark alone, carrying the brutal weight of her absence for eternity.

It was a path that was bound to end in catastrophic tears.

But I might as well live in the moment, Roiner thought softly to himself, remembering the sharp, desperate sting in her soft purple eyes earlier that morning when he had brought up the cold, heartless Academy rules.

He had wanted to shoot her down. He had wanted to push her away to protect her from the dark, dangerous reality of his world and the strict boundaries of his position. But when he had seen that hurt, utterly crushed look shatter across her delicate face... he simply couldn’t do it.

What is the point of hurting your mate under the pathetic excuse of trying to protect her? Roiner questioned himself, his jaw clenching tightly. Then you aren’t protecting anyone at all. It is low-key just being utterly selfish. It is protecting yourself from the pain of caring.

A soft, hesitant knock echoed at the heavy oak doors, breaking his quiet reverie.

"Come in," Roiner called out smoothly, adjusting his dark tailcoat.

The heavy double doors creaked open, and a tiny, silver-haired old lady hobbled into the room. It was Mrs. Gable, his long-time administrative assistant, carrying a silver tray stacked with fresh tea and a small leather folder of urgent correspondence.

Mrs. Gable set the tea down onto the corner of his desk, her sharp, kind old eyes taking in his relaxed posture and the soft, almost distant expression resting on his usually stony face.

She paused, a small, knowing smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. "Well, bless my soul, Headmaster... you look exceptionally happy today."

Roiner blinked, caught slightly off guard as he looked up at the elderly woman. "Really?"

"Yes, indeed," Mrs. Gable chuckled softly, smoothing down her knitted cardigan. "I haven’t seen a look like that on your face in decades. You are usually so intensely gloomy and brooding behind this massive desk, Lord Roiner."

A faint, self-deprecating smirk touched Roiner’s pale lips. "I am simply... contemplating matters, Mrs. Gable."

"Mmm, I’m sure you are," the sweet old lady replied with a sly nod. She picked up a thick, wax-sealed parchment envelope from her leather folder and laid it directly in the center of his desk, right over his unread reports. "However, this just arrived by royal courriers from the capital."

Roiner’s brow furrowed slightly as his eyes locked onto the heavy, dark-gold royal crest stamped into the red wax. "From the capital?"

"Yes," Mrs. Gable said, her tone growing slightly more serious. Roiner picked up the heavy parchment, breaking the thick red seal with a sharp flick of his thumbnail. He pulled out the crisp, heavy letter, unfolding it as his crimson eyes rapidly scanned the dark, ornate calligraphy written across the page:

To Headmaster Roiner of Moonside Academy,

You are hereby commanded to travel to the palace immediately to attend an urgent, closed-door session of the High Sovereign Council. It is of absolute peril that you arrive without delay. Critical matters regarding the stability of the realm and sovereign territorial treaties require your immediate counsel.

By Order of the Sovereign Kings.

Roiner stared at the heavy ink, his jaw tightening into a hard, rigid line.

"What could possibly be the matter so urgent that I need to travel to the palace right now?" Roiner murmured out loud, his tone dripping with quiet annoyance.

He tossed the letter back onto the desk, leaning his head back with a heavy sigh. Why couldn’t this nonsense just be sent through an email or a simple text message for goodness sake? he thought bitterly. It is 2026. Must they still insist on sending theatrical wax-sealed letters like it’s the middle ages?

He looked up at Mrs. Gable, his voice instantly snapping back into his usual crisp, commanding tone. "Mrs. Gable, please instruct the drivers to prepare the car immediately. It appears I must travel to the palace without delay."

"Right away, Headmaster," Mrs. Gable bowed her head softly, turning to hobble back toward the heavy double doors.

Once the door clicked shut, Roiner stood up slowly from his heavy leather chair. He walked over to the tall arched window, his dark crimson eyes sweeping down over the sprawling stone courtyards, the manicured lawns, and the distant student dormitories.

In his head, a sudden, desperate urge surged through his chest. He wanted nothing more than to walk down those stone stairs, find Aina, and see her soft face just one last time before he was forced to depart for the palace. He wanted to see her wearing those sleek new glasses. He wanted to hear her voice again.

But it is not possible, Roiner thought heavily, his hand pressing flat against the cold windowpane. I cannot risk drawing attention to her right now, not with the royal princes hunting the grounds, and certainly not with the Kings summoning me.

He took one long, slow breath, turning his back to the window as he grabbed his heavy black coat.

"Wait for me, little wolf," he whispered softly into the quiet room. "I will be back."