“Enough,” she said calmly. “You didn’t come to threaten or play games.”
The brown alpha didn’t take his eyes off me. “No. We did not.”
Relief flickered through me, quick and cautious.
“Then tell me why you’re here,” I said.
He inhaled deeply, sniffing the air, the Academy, me. When he spoke again, his voice carried weight and weariness in equal measure.
“Because the balance has shifted,” he said. “And when that happens, those who carry authority must be seen.”
Authority.
Not conquest.
Not retaliation.
Recognition.
My pulse slowed just a fraction.
“You ended something we understood,” he continued. “Something we adapted to, even when it harmed us. Now the ground is moving beneath our feet, and something ancient is trying to take over.”
“I know,” I said. “And I won’t pretend that doesn’t frighten people.”
“Good,” he said. “
He finally looked at Keegan then, eyes sharp and assessing. “You stand with her.”
Keegan didn’t hesitate. “I do.”
The alpha studied him for a long moment, then nodded once. “Good.”
I blinked. “Good?”
“Because,” the alpha said, turning his attention back to me, “what comes next will require more than magic. It will require trust.”
The words settled heavily in my chest.
Behind him, the alphas stilled, their restless pacing easing just a fraction, the feral edge dulling into something closer to wary attention.
Perhaps they were here because, like everyone else, they could feel the world tilting, and they wanted to know who was standing at the center when it finally settled.
The shift didn’t happen all at once.
At first, it was a subtle ripple through the pack like a collective breath drawn and released. One alpha stepped back, muscles rolling beneath fur as bone and sinew reconfigured with a wet, uncomfortable inevitability. Another followed. Then another. The air filled with the quiet sounds of transformation: sharp exhales, the faint scrape of claws becoming fingers, the soft thud of bodies adjusting to gravity differently.
One by one, the wolves became people.
They emerged tall and broad-shouldered, wearing simple clothes that had clearly been prepared for this exact moment, loose shirts, worn boots, jackets shrugged on without ceremony. Their eyes remained feral, animal-bright, the wild edge not gone so much as sheathed.
The brown alpha was the last to shift.
I watched, transfixed and unsettled, as his massive form folded inward, fur retreating, bones shortening, the sheer scale of him compressing into a man who was still undeniably formidable. He straightened slowly, rolling his shoulders as if testing the shape, then reached down to pick up a jacket from the ground and shrug it on.
When he lifted his head again, he met my gaze directly.
Up close, he looked older than I’d first thought. He wasn’t old, but weathered in a way that spoke of responsibility rather than years. His hair was dark brown, threaded with gray at the temples. His face was marked by lines earned honestly. His deep brown eyes were flecked with gold, steady and searching.
