The Wolf in the Shadows
The night air was thick and still as Eryon entered the academy’s dimly lit practice grounds. The shadows seemed to move with him, their weight pressing down on his restless wolf.
He had come to train alone, to release some of the tension that had been building since the tournament began. His wolf itched beneath his skin, craving the freedom he couldn’t give it.
Eryon moved through his drills with fluid precision, his strikes sharp and calculated. But his focus wavered as the sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” a voice drawled.
Eryon turned to see a fellow competitor stepping onto the grounds, a smirk on his face and a blade in his hand. The vampire was tall and wiry, his movements confident as he approached.
Eryon sighed, his wolf growling faintly. “I came here to be alone.”
The vampire chuckled. “And waste all that skill? Come on, let’s spar. Or are you afraid I’ll make you look bad?”
The challenge was enough to ignite Eryon’s frustration. He nodded, taking a ready stance as the vampire stepped into the ring.
The sparring match began lighthearted, but it quickly escalated. The vampire’s strikes grew more aggressive, his taunts sharper.
“Is this all you’ve got?” he sneered, dodging one of Eryon’s blows.
Eryon’s wolf surged to the surface, and before he could stop himself, he struck with a force that sent the vampire crashing to the ground. The sound of bone snapping echoed through the night as the vampire cried out, clutching his arm.
Realizing what he had done, Eryon froze. His breathing was ragged, his wolf still clawing at the edges of his control.
From the shadows, Adrian watched, his eyes narrowing. The unnatural strength Eryon had displayed was impossible to ignore.
Lyra arrived moments later, her expression shifting from worry to alarm as she saw the vampire writhing on the ground. “What happened?” she demanded, rushing to Eryon’s side.
“I lost control,” Eryon muttered, his voice thick with regret.
Lyra’s gaze darted to the shadows where Adrian lingered, her wolf sensing his presence. She quickly concocted a lie, her voice steady despite the panic rising within her.
“He’s been pushing himself too hard,” Lyra said, kneeling beside the injured vampire. “The stress of the tournament is getting to everyone.”
The vampire groaned but didn’t argue, his pride wounded as much as his arm.
As Lyra helped Eryon to his feet, Misery appeared, her crimson eyes glinting with amusement. She moved to Eryon’s side, her fingers trailing lightly down his arm.
“Whatever you’re hiding,” she purred, her voice low and teasing, “it’s deliciously dangerous.”
Eryon tensed under her touch, his wolf snarling at the proximity of someone who felt like both a threat and a temptation.
Misery smiled and stepped back, her laughter soft and predatory as she disappeared into the night.
Lyra pulled Eryon close, her voice barely above a whisper. “We can’t slip like this again. He’s watching us.”
Eryon nodded, his expression grim. “I know. But for how long can we keep this up?”
