The morning sun spilled through the tall glass windows of Mountain Crest University's student center, painting the polished floor in ribbons of warm gold. The whole place hummed with energy — students shouting across the hall, the clatter of folding tables being dragged into place, and the faint thump of bass from the stage outside as the tech crew tested the sound system.
Ryan stood in the middle of the chaos, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, wondering for the tenth time how exactly he'd been roped into this.
"Come on, Ryan!" shouted Mel, his class rep, from across the hall. She was waving a clipboard like a sword, her dark braid bouncing behind her as she marched toward him. "You're tall, you're strong, you're… uh… you're here. Help us hang the banner!"
Ryan gave her a flat, unimpressed look, but she was already thrusting a roll of tape into his hand. "Please," she added, in the tone of someone who knew she wasn't asking so much as ordering.
The Founders Day Festival — the school's biggest annual event — was less than twenty-four hours away. It turned the whole campus into a temporary carnival: games, food stalls, music, and a flood of alumni who would return just to bask in nostalgia and overpriced merchandise.
For once, it felt… normal.
No glowing marks. No claws itching to tear through skin. No crimson-eyed Alphas lurking just out of sight.
At least, that's what Ryan told himself.
The banner was a monster — heavy, wide, and absurdly proud in its proclamation: Celebrating 150 Years of Excellence. He climbed the step ladder, the roll of tape between his teeth, and pinned the far edge above the main booth.
"You missed a corner," Mel called up at him, tapping the clipboard against her thigh.
Ryan smirked. "It's fine. No one's going to notice—"
[Notice: Perfection improves survival rate.]
The text flashed across his vision in faint gold — the system's dry, clinical tone slicing through the background chatter. Ryan froze for a half-second, blinking away the words before forcing himself to keep working.
"Great," he muttered under his breath. "Now you care about banners."
By the time they finished, the courtyard had transformed into a festival skeleton — colorful stalls waiting to be stocked, booths half-decorated, and the big stage lit up as the student band cycled through their sound check. Somewhere behind him, the scent of grilled meat drifted through the air, rich enough to make his stomach growl.
"Alright," Mel said, ticking his name off her clipboard with dramatic flair, "you're free to go. But don't disappear before the opening ceremony tomorrow — you're on set-up crew."
Ryan gave her a lazy salute and headed toward the smell of food. He'd barely taken two steps before someone shouted his name again.
"Ryan! Over here!"
Ethan, his roommate, was camped out at a table stacked with paper plates and skewers, his grin wide enough to split his face in two. "Man, you have to try these. Free samples!"
Ryan joined him, grabbing one of the skewers without thinking. The meat was hot and smoky, but underneath that — faint, sharp, and wrong — was another scent.
Blood.
Not human.
Wolf.
The taste hit his tongue like static. His senses flared, scanning the courtyard without conscious thought.
Students laughed by the fountain. Vendors shouted over each other to pull in customers. The music thumped in his chest. But then he saw it — a figure leaning casually against the far wall, half-shadowed by the sun's angle.
Tall. Lean. Hoodie pulled low over the face. And too still — no idle shifting, no fidgeting like the rest of the crowd.
The scent was coming from them.
Ryan's grip tightened on the skewer until the wood creaked. He forced himself to turn back toward Ethan, pretending to laugh at whatever joke he was telling.
[Alert: Known scent profile detected.]
[Identity: Ash-furred scout.]
[Recommendation: Do not engage in public.]
Ryan's jaw clenched.
So Vaelrion's people were here.
The scout didn't move. Didn't approach. Just… watched. Like a shadow that had stitched itself into the edge of the crowd. Then, with a casual push off the wall, they slipped into the flow of students and vanished.
Ryan barely heard Ethan for the next few minutes. His pulse was a low drumbeat in his ears, his thoughts circling the same conclusion: If the scout was here, Vaelrion couldn't be far.
The rest of the afternoon blurred together. He helped a pair of freshmen set up a ring toss booth. Carried a heavy box of flyers for the student media club. Endured a long, overly cheerful conversation with a girl from his history class who wanted to know if he was going to the talent show later.
He smiled in all the right places. Nodded when he should. But the tension never left his spine.
By sunset, the courtyard glowed beneath strings of lanterns. The band rehearsal had transformed into an unofficial pre-festival concert, the music rolling out over a crowd sprawled on the grass. The smell of kettle corn mingled with grilled meat, warm sugar, and the faint crispness of the evening air.
Ryan sat on the fountain's edge, watching the stage lights shift between deep blue and ember red. His mark had stayed quiet all afternoon, the golden lines hidden under his sleeve. Maybe, just for tonight, he could let himself—
The wind shifted.
Scent.
Not the scout.
Something heavier.
Older.
Ryan's head turned toward the far side of the courtyard. Beyond the last string of lanterns, where the glow gave way to shadow, stood a figure between two trees.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Long white hair that caught the moonlight like snow. A dark coat that seemed to drink in the light.
Even from this distance, Ryan knew.
Vaelrion.
Their eyes met. And in that instant, the noise of the festival seemed to fade, leaving only the hollow silence between them.
Vaelrion didn't move. Didn't speak. His mouth curved into a slow, deliberate smile that never touched his eyes.
Then he turned and walked into the shadows, vanishing as though he had been part of them all along.
Ryan's chest tightened.
It wasn't an attack.
It was a reminder.
Later, back in his dorm, Ryan sat on the bed, the festival noise now just a muffled echo in the distance. His gaze dropped to the faint golden glow pulsing under his sleeve.
[Quest Reminder: Identify the White Alpha before the next Blood Moon.]
[Timeframe: 19 Days.]
Nineteen days.
And Vaelrion had already stepped into his world.