The walk back to his dorm should have been uneventful.
It wasn't.
Ryan's mind kept replaying the image of Vaelrion on the rooftop. The white-haired Alpha hadn't spoken a word, yet his presence had been louder than any threat. He had stood there with the ease of someone who didn't need to prove himself—a predator who knew he was in control.
Every step Ryan took along the brick-lined path back to his dorm was weighed down by that memory. The mark under his sleeve had cooled, but his chest felt tight, like the night itself was pressing in on him.
Eighteen days. That's what the system had said. Eighteen days to figure out what Vaelrion wanted, why he was circling him like prey, and what would happen when the Blood Moon finally rose.
The courtyard was quieter now. Most students had left the festival; the last few members of the events crew were packing away tables and rolling up banners. Lanterns still hung overhead, their warm light pooling in uneven patches, but between those pools were long stretches of shadow that seemed to stretch farther than they should.
Ryan's boots crunched softly against the gravel path. He passed under one lantern, its light briefly warming his face, and then stepped into another patch of darkness. His eyes adjusted almost instantly.
That's when he heard it.
Not a footstep exactly—more like the faint rustle of fabric brushing against brick, quick enough to make him question if it had been real. He stopped mid-step, letting his senses stretch outward.
Nothing.
Then—there. A faint heartbeat, steady and close, just at the edge of his hearing. Whoever it was, they were trying to mask it, moving in rhythm with the night sounds.
Ryan didn't turn. "If you're going to tail me," he called quietly, "at least try harder."
The reply came from ahead of him, not behind.
"Well," a soft voice said from the shadows, "that depends. Are you going to try harder at hiding what you are?"
Ryan's head snapped up. From the edge of a lantern's glow, a figure emerged.
She wasn't what he expected. Dark hair tied loosely at the nape of her neck. A student badge clipped to her sweater. A messenger bag slung casually over one shoulder. But her eyes—clear, sharp, and far too knowing—were what held his attention. It was the kind of look you only got from someone who'd seen too much and stopped being afraid of it.
"Do I know you?" Ryan asked.
"Not yet," she said, stepping into the light with measured calm. "But you'll want to. Especially if you plan on staying alive."
Ryan tilted his head, assessing her. "Bold opener."
Her gaze flicked to the sleeve covering his forearm, lingering there just long enough to make the air between them feel heavier. "You've been making noise," she said. "More than you realize. Tonight? That thing you did with the lantern pole? Subtle's not exactly your strong suit."
Ryan's jaw tightened. "If you're another one of Vaelrion's scouts—"
"If I worked for him," she interrupted smoothly, "you wouldn't be standing here."
There was no arrogance in her tone—just a steady, matter-of-fact delivery. It made him more uneasy than if she'd been aggressive.
He studied her more closely now. Beneath the casual student appearance, her stance was balanced, weight distributed just enough that she could move quickly if she had to. Her heartbeat was calm, too calm for someone meeting a stranger at night.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Aria," she said simply. "And before you ask, I'm not here to recruit you, threaten you, or… whatever his kind does. I'm here to tell you this—you're not the only one with skin in this game."
Ryan's brow furrowed. "Meaning?"
Her eyes softened, but only slightly, like she was letting a little of her guard down. "Meaning your hunt? Your Blood Moon? It's tied to something bigger than you. And whether you like it or not, I'm already part of it."
The words sank like a stone in his gut. "You're going to have to do better than vague prophecies if you want me to listen."
"Good," she said, stepping backward toward the edge of the light. "Then maybe you'll be interested in hearing the rest before it's too late. Meet me tomorrow. Off campus. Old railway bridge. Dusk."
Ryan took a step toward her. "You're just expecting me to show up?"
"I'm expecting you to decide whether you'd rather face what's coming alone," she replied, her tone still maddeningly calm.
"Why should I trust you?" he called after her as she began to turn away.
She paused, glancing over her shoulder just long enough for the lantern light to catch her eyes. "Because if you don't, Vaelrion's going to be the least of your problems."
And then she was gone. No sound of footsteps, no lingering heartbeat. Just the empty stretch of path and the quiet hum of the lantern above.
Ryan stood there for a long moment, staring into the space she had occupied.
The night air had turned colder.
Back in his dorm room, Ryan tossed his jacket onto the chair and sat heavily on the bed. The wolf-shaped plush from earlier sat on the desk, its glassy button eyes reflecting the faint light from the hallway.
Vaelrion's appearance had been bad enough—a silent reminder that Ryan was being hunted—but Aria's sudden intrusion had shifted something. She hadn't just known about the Blood Moon. She'd spoken as though she was tangled in it herself, like her life depended on whatever was coming.
The system's soft chime cut through his thoughts.
[Side Quest Unlocked: The Bridge Meeting.][Objective: Discover Aria's connection to the Blood Moon.][Warning: Potential hostility detected.][Timeframe: 24 hours.]
Ryan leaned back against the wall, running a hand through his hair.
"Potential hostility." Great. So either she was a threat, or she was walking into one.
The thought gnawed at him. He wasn't in the habit of trusting strangers—especially ones who could slip in and out of sight like shadows—but there had been something in her eyes. Not fear. Not pity. Something else entirely.
Resolve.
He stared at the plush for a moment longer, the silence of the dorm wrapping around him. Ethan was out—probably still at the after-party some students had thrown after the festival—so there was no one here to ask him why he looked like he'd been handed a death sentence.
He told himself he wasn't going to go to that bridge tomorrow. That it was a bad idea. That she was probably baiting him into a trap.
But another part of him—the same part that had lunged toward the falling lantern pole without thinking—was already counting the hours until dusk.