It was too early for anyone to be alive, let alone pretending to care about assembly speeches, but Moonstone Academy had never been the kind of place that cared about teenagers getting sleep. The hall's overhead lights cast a tired, pale glow over the polished wooden floor, the kind of shine that made everything look colder than it already felt. The space was huge, an echo chamber built from marble, glass, and ambition, and the morning chill clung to Adam's skin like a damp shirt.
He sat in the front row, left side, on one of the special seats they reserved for the student council. Calling them special felt like a cruel joke. They were ordinary chairs, just pushed in front of hundreds of watching eyes. It made Adam feel exposed, like he had been placed on display. His blazer did not help with that. The red fabric was stitched with this fancy gold threading that turned subtle every time he did not want it to and ridiculously obvious every time he wished he could disappear.
He tugged on the sleeve again, wondering whether it would be too noticeable if he just shrugged the thing off right now. Probably. At least Aiva sat to his right, legs crossed, blazer ironed to perfection, posture calm. She might as well have been carved out of focus and competence. She never looked tired, even though Adam was ninety percent sure she slept slightly less than a houseplant.
The principal's voice droned from the stage. Adam tried to pay attention. He really did. But the words flowed over him like elevator music, soft and meaningless. Something about upcoming exams. Something about continued excellence. Something about school spirit. Or maybe that last part came from a motivational poster he had walked past this morning.
All he knew was that suddenly people clapped. Loudly.
He jolted, straightening as his heartbeat jumped. Aiva nudged his elbow, just lightly enough to keep him from looking like he had fallen asleep with his eyes open. She did not say anything. She did not even glance at him. She just nudged him with the same casual air of someone flicking a light switch.
Adam whispered under his breath. "I missed everything, right."
Aiva whispered back. "Pretty much."
She did not judge him for it. At least not out loud.
The principal stepped away from the podium with the mild exhaustion of someone who had given this exact same speech for the last ten years. Then Bryce Farren walked up to the microphone.
The hall shifted. A subtle change, like the room collectively inhaled. Bryce had that effect on people. He carried himself with that easy, inherited confidence of someone who grew up knowing the world would meet him halfway. Tall, blond, smile polished enough to work as a mirror. His voice carried across the assembly so smoothly it sounded like he had been born holding a podium.
"Good morning, everyone."
His greeting echoed through the room before settling into silence.
"So, as you all know, Halloween is coming up. Which means we begin our annual festival preparations."
A ripple went through the crowd. Halloween at Moonstone Academy was not small. It was an event. Adam had only been here for two months, but even he knew the reputation. Decorations, competitions, weeklong celebrations. The works.
Bryce continued.
"Each class celebrates in a different way, following a tradition that has been part of Moonstone since the academy was founded. The interim and middle school classes does not participate. First years celebrate here, on campus. It is their first year as official Moonstone students, and they will be organizing the school wide Halloween party under staff supervision."
A few first years straightened with a mix of pride and terror.
Adam tried not to sigh. He had completely forgotten this was happening. His life had been a nonstop series of supernatural crises lately. Planning a party felt ridiculous in comparison, but somehow also kind of comforting.
"Second years," Bryce went on, "will continue the tradition of spending Halloween at King Lycaon's castle."
A few gasps and murmurs filled the room. Adam blinked.
"Who," he whispered, "is King Lycaon."
Aiva leaned slightly toward him, speaking quietly without taking her eyes off Bryce.
"Ancient king. Responsible for the origin of werewolves. He is a pretty big deal in werewolf history. The castle on the northern isle belonged to him. Thorne family owns it now."
Adam nodded like this made total sense. Inside, he was just thinking one long stream of cool but also creepy. Bryce did not pause long enough for any of them to unpack it.
"And finally," Bryce said, smiling toward the section where the third years sat, "our seniors have chosen their trip for this year. Three days on the Zanzibar beaches."
The hall erupted into applause that felt louder than anything the principal had gotten. Adam could practically hear the seniors congratulating themselves on picking the trip of a lifetime.
"Preparations begin today," Bryce concluded. "Your class representatives will coordinate as usual. Please cooperate, stay organized, and make this Halloween one to remember."
With that he stepped back, giving the polite nod that meant assembly was officially over. Students began to rise from their seats, the scraping of chairs creating a wave of sound through the hall.
Adam stretched his legs as he stood. He felt stiff from sitting too long. The cold air in the assembly hall had sunk into his bones, making him crave sunlight like a lizard on a rock. He tugged at his blazer again, wishing it felt less like a target pinned to his chest.
As they filed out of the hall, Aiva glanced at him.
"You look more awake now."
"I look awake because I can smell breakfast from here."
"That tracks." Her tone edged toward teasing, something rare and subtle but noticeable enough that Adam caught it. If she had not immediately looked ahead again, he might have commented on it.
Later that morning, after first period, Adam felt buoyant. Hopeful even. Life had settled into something approaching normal. Or at least his new version of normal. He had not accidentally broken another chair with his strength in the last few days. He had gone three days without spiking his senses so badly that every sound felt like a marching band. His control was improving, little by little, with help from Aiva and his own stubbornness.
He almost felt like just another student navigating school life.
Almost.
The only thing he had not really gotten under control was his appetite. That was new. And annoying. And pretty much constant.
By the time lunch had passed, he could feel it again. This restless, gnawing hunger sat in his gut like a second heartbeat. When he sat through his afternoon history class, it grew worse. His stomach growled. Loudly.
Adam winced.
The classroom was painfully quiet. The kind of quiet that made every tiny noise stand out. Old clocks ticked louder. Paper rustled like thunder. Chalk scratched faintly at the board where the teacher was writing about territorial wars three centuries ago.
Adam's stomach growled again, deeper this time.
Luna, who sat next to him, shifted just enough to glance sideways. Her expression did not change much. Luna never showed much. She pretended not to look at him half the time and pretended not to care the other half. But now she smirked. Just slightly. It made her look almost human and not like someone always two steps from biting someone's head off.
He whispered. "I swear I am dying."
She whispered back. "Then die quieter."
The comment would have annoyed him if her tone had not been so dry it was funny.
He slumped forward, trying to focus on the lesson. The teacher's voice washed over him. Something about historical borders. Something about ancient hunts. Something about treaties that probably mattered to someone but definitely not to a starving teenager trying to pretend he was not turning into a carnivore with manners.
The hunger pulled at him again. Deep. Sharp. Like a string tugging from the inside.
He needed a snack.
Badly.
His fingers tightened around his pen, trying to distract himself with something he could control. His senses drifted through the room. Chalk dust. The faint scent of perfume from the girl two rows ahead. Old paper. Ink. Pencil shavings. The lingering smell of cafeteria food still clinging to the air outside the class.
His stomach growled again.
Luna's smirk widened before she turned away, sliding back into her familiar wall of cold disinterest. Adam exhaled slowly and dropped his gaze to his notebook.
When the lesson ended, Adam practically staggered out of history the moment the bell rang. He moved with the single-minded determination of a man whose survival depended on calories. The hunger had grown unbearable by the time class ended, an itchy, restless pull deep in his torso that made concentration impossible. He barely heard Luna snapping her notebook shut behind him. All he could think about was food.
The new cafe above the cafeteria was warm and bright, filled with the soft hum of conversation and the sugary smell of pastries baked an hour too fresh. The lights were gentle, tinted a warm gold that made everything look a little softer. Coffee machines steamed in the background, each puff of vapor smelling like heaven. The place had been added last month and still carried that new-floor polish scent that mixed with cocoa powder in a surprisingly comforting way.
Adam did not even pretend to pace himself. He grabbed cookies, muffins, two sandwiches, a slice of cake he did not need but absolutely wanted, a yogurt parfait, a bag of chips, and three caramel bars because they were near the register and he was weak. By the time he sat down, the tray looked like someone had dumped the entire snack aisle on it. The cashier had watched him with the same expression one gives a raccoon stealing groceries.
He ate like a man possessed. Every bite calmed the restless energy inside him, each mouthful soothing the sharp tug of hunger. The flavors were almost overwhelming. Sugar. Salt. Warm bread. Chocolate melting on his tongue. Chips crunching so loudly he had to slow down so his ears would not punish him. He finished everything embarrassingly fast, wiping the crumbs off his shirt with a sigh that felt like relief and slight financial regret.
He checked his bank balance.
Then sighed again. Longer.
That was painful.
He should probably budget. Or learn to hunt squirrels. Something.
On his way back to the dorms the afternoon sun felt cool and soothing on his skin. The campus trees rustled with autumn wind, dry leaves brushing across the paths like tiny footsteps. Students talked in clusters, their voices a messy blend of excitement about Halloween planning and speculation about the upcoming castle trip. Adam tried to focus on the chatter, hoping to distract himself from his growing money problem.
He texted Abi on the walk.
Adam: Study session today?
Abi: no
That was it. Nothing else. Not even a period. Just a single stab of dry rejection.
Adam stared at the message longer than he should have. She was not mad at him exactly. well... Technically she was. And he hated it. He knew he needed to fix things with her. He owed her that much. But maybe he should give her space. Or maybe space was exactly the wrong thing. Or maybe he was overthinking it. Or maybe he was underthinking it.
Fantastic. Now he was spiraling while broke.
His key card beeped softly as he opened the dorm room door.
He stepped inside and froze.
Bryce was kneeling on the floor next to his bed, rummaging through a wooden chest filled with glittering jewelry. The chest looked like it belonged in a pirate movie. Gold bracelets, gemstone rings, pendants with symbols he did not recognize, everything piled together in a way that made it look like treasure discovered under a floorboard.
Adam blinked. "Please tell me you did not rob a bank."
Bryce looked up, eyebrows raised, lips twitching. "I would like to say yes because that would make me sound cooler. But unfortunately no. My dad cleaned out some old storage stuff. Apparently these were corporate gifts from some merger with some family from Switzerland. Or Sweden. Something like that. Business things I do not care about. So he dumped them on me."
Adam stared at the chest again. "You know normal people get sweaters. Or socks. Not… this. This looks like you mugged a royal family on the way here."
Bryce laughed, that bright effortless sound he always had, as if humor came as naturally as breathing. "Well, I figured I would distribute them. A gift for my friends. And for the student council. A little incentive to keep morale up."
Adam snorted. "Ah yes. The classic corrupt leader move."
Bryce pointed at him. "Exactly. You get it."
Their laughter bounced off the walls, warm and easy, filling the small room with the kind of comfort that came only from someone who had become family without trying.
Bryce sifted through the chest again, bracelets clinking softly as they slid against one another. He pulled out one necklace, examined it, shook his head, and dropped it back in. Then he found a silver chain. It gleamed under the dorm lights, smooth and perfectly polished, the kind of jewelry that looked like a subtle flex.
Bryce grinned as he held it up. "Put this on."
Adam raised an eyebrow. "Dude, if this thing explodes or curses me or gets me possessed, I am haunting you personally."
"Just put it on."
Adam rolled his eyes but lifted the chain anyway. It was cold against his skin, sending a light shiver down his spine as he clasped it behind his neck. When he looked up, Bryce was staring at him with a smirk that promised nonsense.
"You look like a rapper."
Adam blinked. "What."
"A rapper," Bryce repeated. "Specifically a black rapper. You got the chain. You got the vibe. You are one missed mixtape away from a Billboard chart."
Adam tried to look offended. He failed. The absurdity cracked him. He started laughing, shoulders shaking.
"You are racist for that."
Bryce laughed harder. "And you look like you are about to drop an album called Hungry Boyz."
"That is worse."
"You spent your entire wallet on snacks today. Tell me I am wrong."
"I am broke at the moment. That is different."
Bryce clutched his chest dramatically. "You have completed the stereotype. Black. Broke. Chain. My guy, congratulations. You are a walking rap lyric."
Adam snorted. "Wow. So you are just listing all of them now. Should I start calling you Chadwick Privilege the Third."
Bryce gasped sarcastically. "I am hurt. Deeply wounded. Mortally injured. My white spirit is crying."
"Good. Maybe it will cleanse the racism."
Bryce laughed so hard he nearly tipped the chest over, catching himself at the last second. The jewelry inside jingled like mocking applause. Adam dropped onto his bed, laughing just as hard, hands over his face as the humor kept bubbling up. It was stupid. All of it. But stupid was exactly what they needed.
For a few minutes nothing existed except the laughter, bouncing wildly around the room, collapsing into wheezing breaths and half-finished insults. Adam's stomach hurt, but this time from laughing, not hunger.
Eventually Bryce wiped at his eyes. "Okay. Okay. I am done. You win."
Adam smirked. "I always win."
Bryce tilted his head toward the chain. "Keep it. That one's yours."
The words slipped into the room lightly, but something warm followed with them. Adam felt the meaning more than the sound. He smiled. Not big. Not dramatic. Just real.
"Thanks, man."
Bryce shrugged like it was nothing. "You are family. It's what we do."
The room felt softer after that. Warm. Safe. Like the laughter had carved out a space where the world did not get to intrude for a while.
Adam leaned back on his bed, fingers brushing the cool silver chain around his neck.
For the first time in days, he felt normal.
Not hunted.
Not overwhelmed.
Just a kid laughing with his best friend.
For now, at least.