*Jiselle*
This school just kept getting weirder and weirder.
One minute I was dodging death, making out with my mate, having nightmares about forced marks, and trying to convince myself that I was still a normal girl with a future. The next? I was in ceremonial robes, walking shoulder to shoulder with my best friend toward a rite of passage that felt more like a prelude to a funeral.
Eva hadn’t said much all morning. Her braid was tighter than usual, her mouth set in a firm line. I could tell the Max thing still lingered between us. She hadn’t brought him up since the last time she visited me in the infirmary, and neither had I. But silence wasn’t peace. It was a wound we were pretending didn’t still bleed.
Still, she was beside me. That meant something.
I adjusted the ash–grey cloak on my shoulders. It was heavy, lined with thin silversilk that shimmered faintly with enchantments meant to keep the branding stable. I’d read the instructions last night–twice. Each first–year would receive their symbolic rune from a council–approved elder. It was tradition. Part of the Solstice cycle. Nothing to fear, according to the pamphlet.
But my gut said otherwise.
“You good?” Eva finally asked.
I looked over at her. She was watching me–not like I was about to collapse, but like she wanted to ask a hundred things and couldn’t decide which to start with.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly.
Her hand brushed mine for a second. “You don’t have to be. Just don’t run. Not yet.”
It was then that I remembered that Eva had not the faintest clue what would happen to us in a few weeks. Most first years didn’t know. I was just ‘fortunate‘ to have been with two powerful men who couldn’t keep their power under control when I was in danger, and happened to also be a powerful wolf myself. But most of these kids didn’t know what this whole Solstice thing was about.
So, I simply nodded, and we stepped through the eastern gate that led into the main courtyard where the ceremony was being held. The cobblestones were swept clean, enchanted lanterns floated high overhead, casting a dim golden light. Students gathered in clusters–some excited, some nervous, most just trying to look cool.
Of course, Emari was there, perched on the edge of a marble fountain like she was being filmed for a drama series. She was already branded, her rune visible beneath the sheer fabric of her sleeve. When she spotted me, she smirked.
“Oh look,” she said loud enough for everyone around her to hear, “the grand finale has arrived.”
Eva rolled her eyes. “I swear to the Moon, I will drown her in that fountain.”
“Not worth the paperwork, I muttered.
A familiar voice called out, and I turned to see Ethan pushing through the crowd toward us. He looked me over with a mixture of pride and nerves that mirrored my own.
“You okay?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “But I’m doing it anyway.”
“That’s my sister,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around my shoulder briefly. “Kick ass. Or at least don’t die.”
The official horn sounded then, low and sonorous, signaling the start. I exhaled slowly and moved toward the center circle. My stomach tightened with every step.
Even with the rustle of ceremonial robes, the hum of spellcasters preparing the enchantments, the low murmurs of instructors lining the perimeter–something about the atmosphere felt off. Stretched. Brittle. Like we were all standing on the edge of a cliff, pretending the ground wasn’t crumbling beneath us.
The Solstice Preparation Ceremony had been described as tradition. A rite of passage. Students filed into the courtyard in groups, dressed in ash–grey cloaks that billowed around their legs and left their arms bare for branding.
But the moment stepped through the eastern arch and into the circle, I knew this wasn’t just ceremony. It was theater.
A warning.
Successfully unlocked!
The raised dais in the center shimmered faintly with protective runes, and at its heart, a council elder waited with a polished ceremonial blade and a basin of lunar ink. I recognized the woman immediately–Councilor Elenith, Rune Mistress of the Third Seat. When I met with the council days ago, she didn’t say anything. She simply sat and stared–which made her even more terrifying.
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Chapter 68
She didn’t acknowledge me. Just stared ahead, her expression carved from ice.
*Jiselle Johal,” she called.
My name echoed across the stone.
I stepped forward, heart pounding. Behind me, I could feel the gazes of dozens of students–some curious, some wary. Eva stood in the crowd beside Emari, both watching with wide eyes. And Nate–he stood further back near Bastain and Carrow, unmoving, unreadable. But I felt him. His presence burned into my skin. I knew he wasn’t allowed here, yet he was here. That spoke volumes to his influence around here.
He didn’t look happy, which meant this ceremony couldn’t be anything good. But when I asked him early this morning, it was easily flung onto the everlasting list of ‘can’t tell or else I’ll die.‘
The platform was colder than it should’ve been. I stopped at its center. The Rune Mistress approached, her long fingers smeared with silver ink. In her other hand, she held the dagger. Not for injury. For symbolism. Each of us was to be” tethered” by a rune drawn in lunar ink just beneath our collarbone, and presented a blade that tied to our life force for the Solstice trials.
“You stand at the edge of awakening,” she said, reciting the sacred line. “Receive your tether with grace, and may the Moon rise in your favor.”
Her fingers touched my skin.
And everything burned.
I didn’t even have time to scream before the rune ignited.
White–hot, blinding, a pain so sharp it fractured my vision. My knees buckled. I collapsed hard onto the stone platform, the world tilting sideways. The sigil blazed across my chest–wrong, too bright, too wild–and then it exploded into smoke. Gasps echoed. Someone shouted.
And then I heard him–Nate.
He was at my side before anyone else moved, arms sliding beneath me as he lifted me off the platform with a snari. “Get away from her,” he growled at Elenith.
Bastain appeared an instant later, fury radiating off him like lightning. “What did you do?” he barked.
“She reacted, the elder said coolly. “Violently. As expected.”
“You tried to suppress her,” Bastain spat. “You knew that rune wasn’t neutral.”
Carrow’s voice snapped through the air like a blade. “This wasn’t part of the ceremony. You’re risking exposing every first year.”
“They will all know in two weeks, anyway, the woman said as another scream ripped through me.
I was slipping. Cold. Distant. Nate held me tighter, muttering something I couldn’t hear. My vision pulsed white. And then it all went black.
***
I woke to warmth and shadows.
The room smelled of Nate–spice, woodsmoke, and something darker. I was wrapped in his sheets, the soft hum of a protection spell vibrating faintly beneath the floorboards. My head throbbed, but the pain was distant. Like it belonged to someone else.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, elbows braced on his knees. He looked like he hadn’t blinked in hours. “What happened?” I whispered.
He turned immediately. His expression shattered. “You’re awake.”
“What did they do to me?”
“They tried to suppress you,” he said. “That rune? It wasn’t just a mark. It was a cage. Bastain tore into them. Said if they ever touched you again without consent, he’d tear the damn council apart.”
“They used a suppression brand,” I repeated numbly. “At a public ceremony.*
“They want to test you before the Solstice.” Nate said. “Control you. And when they realized they can’t…. this is what they do.” My throat was dry. “Did they do this to Serina?”
After my meeting with Bastain two days ago, I told Nate everything he said about his ancestor and the journal. I hid it in Nate’s room, and he assured me that it would be safe until I felt ready.
His jaw ticked. “They killed Serina before she ever made it to Solstice. Or whatever it might’ve been called back then sines there was no academy.”
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Chapter 68
The silence stretched
“I’m scared,” I said.
“I am too,” he admitted. “But we’re in this together. I won’t let them break you.
“We didn’t even know she would do that,” I whispered. “She could have easily killed me then.”
He sighed, and I noticed that it seemed like ten years of his life had been etched away over the past few hours.
He shuffled beside me in the bed and held me to his chest. “I won’t let that happen.” The words were firm, but even I heard the doubt behind them.
Still, I chose not to speak.
We stayed that way for hours–just breathing, just being. No further promises. No speeches. Just quiet survival.
