She must have done it.
But why?
I had no history with Irene. No prior argument, no rivalry, no stolen affection or imagined slight. We had never even spoken before this moment. And yet here she was, already stepping neatly into the role of Lysera Number Two in my life. Another woman who derived open satisfaction from pushing me down, simply because she could. Because I was convenient. Because I they think I can't do anything to them. Because watching me bleed or stumble or break seemed to brighten her day in some small, vicious way.
The realization settled like ice in my stomach.
I pushed myself up from the gravel slowly, every movement deliberate and painful. No one offered a hand. Not a single soul stepped forward, not even Ysara, whose earlier gentleness now felt like a distant, mocking memory. The courtyard remained perfectly still except for the low, cruel laughter still rippling through the crowd. My soaked clothes clung to my skin, heavy and cold, while the ropes continued to bite deeper into my wrists and ankles with every shift.
She must have her reasons, I told myself, forcing the bitter thought down before it could take root and poison me further. Still, my eyes lifted of their own accord, locking onto Irene's face with a glare sharp enough to draw blood. She didn't flinch. If anything, the corner of her mouth curved higher, pleased, almost delighted by the silent challenge.
As I finally straightened, shoulders aching, pride in tatters, I noticed the four young men standing just behind Ysara plus ire e a d the other lady who came with them to meet me earlier. perhaps a year or two older than me, taller, broader, radiating the kind of easy confidence that came from knowing exactly how dangerous they were. Their expressions ranged from bored detachment to mild curiosity, as though I were nothing more than an inconvenient prop they had been dragged out to observe.
Then Ysara stepped forward and clapped her hands together lightly, the sound crisp and artificially bright against the tension humming in the air.
"Hi, everyone," she said, flashing a practiced smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Welcome to Altheris Academy."
A few scattered, half-hearted cheers rose from the crowd. Most students didn't bother reacting at all, standing stiff, silent, faces carved with the same weary resignation I recognized all too well. I understood them instantly. Altheris wasn't a place anyone arrived at to celebrate. It was a dumping ground. A forge. A graveyard for the unwanted, the broken, the dangerous. No one came here expecting kindness or glory.... only survival, if they were lucky.
"We have a first task for all of you," Ysara continued smoothly... and without warning, she reached out, seized my upper arm in a firm grip, and dragged me forward into the center of the courtyard like a prize on display.
Confusion slammed into me like a physical blow. "What....?"
Before I could finish the question, the second woman... the one whose name I still didn't know yet picked up from where Ysara stipped with clinical detachment.
"Every one of you will attempt to loosen the ropes on our new girl," she announced casually, as though she were describing the weather or the lunch menu.
"What do you mean?" I demanded sharply, my voice slicing through the low murmurs that had begun to spread.
No one looked at me. Not one of them spared me even a glance, as though my protest were background noise, irrelevant, beneath notice.
One of the young men stepped forward instead, arms crossed over his broad chest. "Each of you will use your abilities to help her out of her restraints," he said, tone flat and instructional.
I stared at him, incredulous. "Why can't you just untie me yourselves?"
Still nothing. No answer. No acknowledgment. The silence stretched, heavy and deliberate.
A chill slithered down my spine, slow and insidious. Why do they need to use their powers just to untie simple ropes? What kind of test requires magic, strength, or worse... something far more destructive... to free one helpless girl?
A hesitant voice rose from somewhere in the crowd. "What about those of us who don't have powers?"
I turned instinctively toward the speaker, a slight, nervous-looking boy who smelled unmistakably human, no trace of wolf or therian aura around him.
"You may use whatever means you see fit," Ysara replied smoothly, her smile never faltering.
My patience finally snapped.
"Can someone answer me?" I shouted, frustration clawing its way free after days of sedation and silence. Heads turned. Eyes landed on me all at once, hundreds of them, curious, amused, predatory.
"Why are you subjecting me to a test meant for your students?" I demanded, voice shaking with equal parts anger and fear.
Irene smiled first, slow, deliberate, savoring the moment. "Maybe because you're…" she paused, letting the suspense build like a noose tightening, "…wolfless. Or should I say... powerless?"
A few scattered chuckles rippled through the crowd, sharp and unkind.
Then she turned to address them fully, voice light and almost playful. "Make sure she doesn't die," Irene said casually. "Because if she does… you will die too."
The words landed with terrifying nonchalance, as though she were discussing the rules of a children's game instead of my life.
My stomach twisted violently.
Ysara stepped in quickly, her tone calmer but no less firm. "Be careful. This is a life... just like yours."
A girl near the front raised her hand, voice small but steady. "What if we don't want to do it?"
"You die," one of the young men replied with an easy smile, as though he were explaining the simplest arithmetic.
Not a single soul in the among Ysara and her minions or even the students reacted with shock. No gasps. No outrage. They were discussing my life like it was cheap currency... something to be spent, wagered, or discarded without consequence.
That was when the full horror of it sank in, heavy as lead in my bones.
No one here would refuse.
No one wanted to die.
Which meant every single student gathered in this courtyard would test their power, their strength, their control, on me, without hesitation.
"What if I refuse?" I asked quietly, the words barely more than a whisper.
The same man smiled again, slow, almost gentle in its cruelty. "Then you stay bound exactly like that... even when you're sent to Morvalis, the monsters there will appreciate a helpless, pre-wrapped meal."
The ground beneath my feet seemed to tilt.
This wasn't just a test.
It was an execution disguised as orientation.
"You can't do this," I said, shaking my head violently, dread clawing up my throat. "What if they hurt me by mistake? What if they lose control?"
"Then consider it your misfortune," Irene replied coldly, as if she were commenting on an overcast sky or a minor inconvenience.
I didn't know what I had done to earn her immediate, venomous hatred, but it was unmistakable now. The way her eyes lingered on me, sharp, satisfied, almost hungry... told me this wasn't simple indifference. It was deliberate. Personal. She had decided I was prey the moment she laid eyes on me.
Desperation surged through my chest as I turned to the only man among them who hadn't spoken yet. He stood slightly apart, tall, dark-haired, expression unreadable. Perhaps he was a professor. Or a senior instructor. Or something close enough to authority that he might still possess a shred of mercy.
Maybe, just maybe, he would intervene.
Our eyes met for one brief, fragile second.
Then he looked away.
That single motion told me everything I needed to know.
I had no allies here.
I was going to be used as living target practice for an entire courtyard full of dangerous, desperate students who had everything to lose and nothing to gain by showing me kindness.
"If the first person manages to free her," Ysara announced calmly, as though reading from a script, "then the rest won't need to try. That means everyone passes the test."
My heart plummeted straight into freefall.
Before I could force another word past my tightening throat, a loud, eager voice rang out from the back of the crowd.
Footsteps thundered toward me, heavy, purposeful, hungry.
I barely had time to turn my head before someone burst forward from the mass of students... a broad-shouldered boy, eyes wild with determination, an axe clenched tightly in both hands.
"No....!"
The blow came faster than I could process.
He swung with terrifying, unrestrained force, harder than I had ever imagined possible from someone my age.
Pain exploded through my body like lightning splitting an oak.
My mind screamed before my mouth could even open.
For one horrifying, endless second I was convinced I had lost my hands entirely, that they had been severed clean off at the wrists, reduced to nothing but numbness and shock as warm blood spilled downward in thick, pulsing streams and darkness began creeping in at the edges of my vision.
I screamed....