Morning mist clung to the arches of Beastblood Academy as if reluctant to lift. The air carried a metallic chill, the kind that awakened instincts before consciousness. Sandra stepped out into the courtyard with measured caution, sensing the subtle pull of the Harmonization System the moment her foot touched the stone path. It was already awake—tracking heartbeat, gait, emotional fluctuations, proximity patterns. Every breath she took was quietly recorded, cross-referenced, and stored.
The Academy was a fortress of secrets, but the System was the unseen master.
Students moved past her in scattered waves: Beastmen heirs with sleek, predatory silhouettes; human scholars with uncertain gazes; a few hybrids with their subtle but unmistakable aura. Every hierarchy was visible, every dominance line etched in posture and tone. And Sandra—an anomaly, a candidate with a truth too dangerous to uncover—walked among them with an exterior of calm purpose.
Her destination was the Hall of Factions, where the Academy's internal groups convened and alliances were forged—or broken.
She tightened her grip on her bag. Today would be her first exposure to the Academy's faction politics. Her secret could not afford attention, and yet attention followed her like a restless shadow.
And two shadows in particular.
She sensed Tristan before she heard him. His disciplined footsteps were distinct—soundless, perfectly measured. He moved like someone accustomed to having his presence noticed without announcing it.
"Walk with me," he said quietly as he aligned beside her.
Sandra didn't look at him immediately. "Am I being escorted or monitored?"
"Both," he answered without hesitation. "You made an impression yesterday. That changes the terrain."
His tone was controlled, but there was something beneath it—something edged. Concern, perhaps. Or tension.
"Your performance in Tactical Instincts placed you in the top tier," Tristan continued. "A few heirs feel threatened. You'll attract attention—hostile and strategic."
Sandra slowed her pace slightly. "I thought attention was your specialty."
"It is," he said. "Which is why I know how dangerous it can be."
A beat of silence stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable. Tristan studied her profile with those analytical silver eyes, as if tracking every micro-shift in her expression.
Then he added, lower, "Be careful who you engage with today."
Before Sandra could answer, a voice slipped behind her like a soft blaze.
"Careful? Where's the fun in that?"
Sebastian stepped into stride on her other side, his golden eyes gleaming with a teasing glint. His hair was damp from the morning mist, unruly in a way that looked intentionally disheveled. He radiated confidence, charm, and an effortlessly dangerous energy—fire where Tristan was ice.
"You're early," Tristan said, not bothering to mask the irritation.
"I had a feeling today would be entertaining," Sebastian replied. "Besides, someone has to make sure Sandra doesn't get swallowed by all the Academy's… traditions."
Sandra exhaled softly. "I don't need both of you hovering."
Tristan raised a brow. Sebastian smirked.
"Hovering?" Sebastian repeated. "That's a generous interpretation. I'd say I'm escorting you. He's hovering."
Tristan ignored the remark. "The Hall of Factions is a battlefield. If you misstep, alliances will form around you—intentionally or not."
Sebastian chuckled. "Don't worry. We'll handle the wolves and the snakes. Mostly the snakes."
Sandra quickened her pace. "I can handle myself."
"I know," Sebastian murmured. "That's what makes this so interesting."
The tension between the two heirs was palpable—charged, sharp, and unmistakably centered around her. Sandra felt the pull of it like a magnetic force, drawing lines she had not intended to draw.
And the System felt it too.
A faint vibration pulsed on her wrist. She glanced at the discreet projection:
HARMONIZATION UPDATE:
• Emotional frequency spike detected (proximity triggers: Valmar, Marquez).
• Tri-variable tension pattern forming.
• Observation heightened.
Her pulse skipped. The System was already tracking the triangle, sensing its formation before she even admitted it consciously.
Sebastian leaned in slightly, reading her reaction. "The System getting nosy again?"
"Always," she said.
"Then let's give it something to think about," he whispered with a grin.
Tristan's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
They reached the towering gates of the Hall of Factions. The building was carved from obsidian stone, its surface etched with the crests of the major clans: Wolf, Serpent, Falcon, Bear, Shadow Lynx, and the enigmatic Lone Circle. Inside, political expectation thickened the air.
Sandra felt dozens of gazes swivel toward her the moment she entered.
New arrival.
High performer.
Human candidate… or something more?
Connected to two heirs?
Whispers coiled around her like smoke.
Tristan and Sebastian flanked her instinctively—one on each side. The visual was unmistakable. And the Academy noticed.
The Wolf Clan heirs stiffened. The Serpent candidates exchanged glances. A few human students looked both impressed and terrified.
A tall Lion-class Beastman stepped forward with a predatory grin. "We were expecting the top-ranked newcomer. Didn't think she'd arrive with two escorts."
"It's not an escort," Sebastian said lightly. "It's an intervention."
Tristan shot him a sharp glance. "Enough."
The Lion-class student ignored the exchange and extended a hand toward Sandra. "You performed well yesterday. Some of the clans are… curious."
Sandra accepted the handshake cautiously. "Curious about what?"
"About where you stand," he said, eyes flicking subtly to the two heirs. "And with whom."
Sebastian stepped closer, his presence suddenly warmer, more assertive. Tristan mirrored the motion with disciplined precision.
The Lion-class student lifted a brow. "I see. Complicated."
Sandra withdrew her hand. "There's nothing complicated."
Sebastian murmured under his breath, "Not yet."
The factions began their formal introductions. Each clan presented their core values, expectations, and the nature of their internal politics. Sandra listened carefully, taking mental notes. The Wolf Clan emphasized discipline, hierarchy, and loyalty. The Serpent Clan emphasized intelligence, strategy, and ambivalence. The Falcon Clan prized autonomy. The Shadow Lynx valued secrecy.
But beneath the polished speeches, she sensed tension—fractures, rivalries, and alliances formed out of necessity rather than trust.
Halfway through the presentations, Sandra felt the first true ripple of danger.
A cold gaze landed on her.
She turned subtly, locking eyes with a Serpent Clan student positioned in the back row. His irises were an unnatural shade of emerald, his expression unreadable. He was studying her with a precision that went beyond curiosity.
Tristan noticed immediately. His body tensed. "Avoid him."
Sebastian leaned slightly. "Him? What's his angle?"
"Hostility," Tristan answered. "Calculated hostility."
Sandra felt it too—a quiet, venomous assessment, as if the student were trying to peel back her skin to see what lay beneath.
The Serpent student dipped his head in a gesture too controlled to be respectful.
A warning.
A promise.
Or a threat.
Tristan shifted closer to her, voice low. "Stay away from him. He's dangerous."
Sebastian folded his arms. "Everyone here is dangerous. Some are just less obvious about it."
The session ended with an invitation for new members to engage in informal dialogues. Sandra intended to slip out quietly, but several students intercepted her with questions, offers, challenges, and thinly veiled tests.
Her responses were succinct, diplomatic, measured.
She ignored provocations.
She sidestepped invitations.
She refused to be trapped.
Yet Tristan and Sebastian remained close—too close.
At one point, a Falcon Clan girl asked with faux innocence, "Are you choosing a faction… or are they choosing for you?" She nodded subtly toward the two heirs.
Sandra answered coolly, "I don't let others choose for me."
Tristan's gaze softened—for him, that was recognition.
Sebastian's lips curved—for him, that was interest.
Eventually, Sandra slipped outside into the courtyard to regain her composure. The air was sharper, cooler, cleansing. But she sensed she wasn't alone.
"Escaping?" Sebastian's voice drifted behind her as he appeared from the archway, hands in pockets.
"Taking a moment," she said.
He walked closer, stopping just inside her personal space. "You did well in there. You didn't bend. They respect that."
"I'm not here for respect. I'm here to survive."
He tilted his head. "You say that like the two are different."
Before she could respond, Tristan emerged from another path, his expression controlled but strained.
"You shouldn't be alone right now," he said. "Not after that Serpent's attention."
Sandra exhaled. "You two need to stop treating me like I'm about to break."
Tristan stepped forward. "You're not fragile. But you're a target."
Sebastian's voice dropped. "We're trying to prevent you from becoming prey."
Sandra's pulse quickened. The air between the three of them thickened, charged with unspoken truths.
She turned away briefly, trying to steady her thoughts, but Tristan spoke again—quieter now, almost vulnerable.
"We're not doing this for politics."
Sebastian added, voice deeper. "Or the System."
Sandra slowly faced them. "Then why?"
Neither answered immediately.
Neither needed to.
Their silence was the confession.
Her heartbeat accelerated despite herself. The System reacted instantly.
A soft vibration pulsed on her wrist.
HARMONIZATION ALERT:
• Emotional synchronization shift detected.
• Multi-source attraction indicators rising.
• Risk level: escalating.
She swallowed hard.
Everything was shifting.
Faster than expected.
Too fast.
Before she could speak, the Academy bells tolled overhead—sharp, cold, resonant.
Tristan and Sebastian exchanged a glance.
"That's a summons," Tristan said. "Mandatory assembly."
"For what?" Sandra asked.
Sebastian's expression darkened just enough to reveal concern.
"For something the Academy doesn't announce lightly," he said. "A threat."
Sandra froze.
"External or internal?"
Tristan's voice was low, certain. "Both."
And as the bells echoed over the courtyard, Sandra felt the first true tremor of the danger waiting for her.
The triangle was only beginning.
But the threat surrounding them was already here.