Chapter 1 The Wolf Who Froze Time

Skylar

If there was one thing I never managed to understand, it was how my life went from Luna’s supposedly gifted daughter to ‘a walking hazard who needed to be dumped in the strictest supernatural school on the continent.’ It sounded dramatic and, unfortunately, it was also completely true.

And here I was, standing at the stone gates of Equilibrium Academy, trying to look calm while my head spun like a malfunctioning disco ball.

My father’s black car had just driven off, leaving me with a suitcase, chilly morning air, and a punishment disguised as something wholesome: improvement.

Yeah, sure. If this was really about improvement, I wouldn’t be terrified of my emotions jumping even a fraction higher than normal.

I fastened the buttons of my deep forest-green jacket, fixed the strap of my bag, and bit the inside of my cheek—a stupid habit that showed up every time anxiety did.

“Come on, Sky. Wolf mode on. Don’t be dramatic,” I muttered under my breath. I dropped my voice a bit lower, steadier. More… werewolf-like.

Even though we all knew, no matter how hard I tried, I wasn’t a normal wolf.

The campus was bigger than I expected. The main building looked like a medieval fortress with tall windows and pointed stone roofs, but inside it was ridiculously modern—rows of holographic displays, supernatural students everywhere, and a mash-up of scents: wolves, vampires, witches, dragons, demons, and a few species I didn’t even recognise.

My senses switched on immediately. I heard heartbeats, footsteps, whispers from the far end of the corridor, and the sharp scent of an espresso machine that I couldn’t even see.

I was greeted by a curly-haired woman with a short, stocky build behind a tall desk that only showed her head.

“Good morning, ma’am. I’m Juliette Skylar…” I began, but my words were cut off by the scrape of paper sliding toward me.

“McKirby. Werewolf. Shifting’s still sloppy. Your father called earlier this morning. This is your room key, and these are your accessories. Put them on now—if you don’t, I’ll make sure they’re fitted so you won’t be able to take them off,” she said, brisk and firm.

I picked up a cord bracelet and a necklace with a fang pendant and slipped them on quickly. I held my breath then walked like normal werewolf—shoulders back, confident, weight on the heels. Sometimes I genuinely admired how committed I was to pretending.

The problem? Real wolves didn’t have to fight their own bodies to stop a spell from exploding.

My magic had zero manners. Never knocked, even waited. It just barged in like a rude guest with muddy shoes.

First class: Supernatural Ethics. A great start, apparently, to help us “adjust responsibly” to academy life.

The corridor leading to the lecture hall was way too crowded for my liking. Every time a group of wolves passed, I felt their eyes drag across me. Not the ‘oh, new student’ kind of look more the ‘what even are you?’ kind.

Yeah, I got it. My pale blond hair, green eyes that were way too bright for a female wolf, and my lean bones inherited from a mum who was half veela… I looked like a walking rumour waiting to happen.

And judging by how some of them stared, I had succeeded brilliantly.

The moment I stepped inside the classroom, heads turned. Dozens of them. The room was shaped like a small amphitheatre, seats circling downwards towards the centre where the professor usually stood. The air smelled overwhelmingly wolf with other supernatural hints threading underneath.

Great. Exactly what I needed: a tiered seating arena full of wolves who could pick apart an aura in seconds.

I slid into the seat by the window. Safest spot. Quietest. Furthest from attention. There wasn’t a seat far enough to hide what lived under my skin.

The whispers started.

“That’s her, right?”

“The Red Crescent Moon girl.”

“Didn’t she...”

“Yes, she nearly killed her own mum.”

My shoulders locked. My neck prickled. No. Not on the first day. I hated it when I was trying so hard to keep it together. My eyes kept on the board, pretending the voices didn’t exist.

My wolf rose first—instinct straining, urging fight or flight. My breathing quickened. A low hum pressed into my ears, like the air pressure had shifted. One part of me wanted to snarl, to show teeth, to prove I wasn’t something to whisper about, but there's another part.

The part made of magic I never asked for, that leaked power like faulty wiring… that part began to pulse.

“Don’t,” I whispered. “Please don’t.”

My body didn’t listen. My emotions surged.

The next second, the world literally stopped.

The ticking clock froze mid-sound. A pencil dropped but hung suspended. A boy in the front row stayed stuck, half-way through opening his notebook. Even the professor froze mid-word, mouth open, eyes locked.

Time collapsed into a perfect, awful stillness.

“Oh, brilliant,” I muttered, shutting my eyes in defeat.

It happened again. My magic always reacted first whenever my emotions spiked. And the freeze-time thing? Yeah, definitely not something I had learned or wanted.

In that dead-silent pocket of reality, only I moved and breathed. Only my wolf senses stayed awake, picking up the faint thrum of my own heartbeat, the cold sweep of the air vents, the dust drifting through the stillness like slow, lazy snow.

Some people might’ve found this peaceful. Calming, even.

But for me? It was a horror scene.

Every second the world stood frozen was another reminder I didn’t control any of this.

I forced myself to focus. Feel the floor beneath my shoes. Feel the draft brushing my skin. Then slowly, I pictured the current of my magic pulling back, shrinking, settling.

“Come on, Sky. Put it back…”

There was a tiny pulse. A small internal click and the world exhaled.

The pencil hit the floor. The AC resumed its hum. Students blinked, none of them aware they’d just been… paused.

A few wolves wrinkled their noses immediately. The sensitive ones always sensed something wrong.

I lowered my head, and of course it appeared again.

A faint, dark sigil on my skin. Thin, circular. Wrong on a werewolf’s body.

The Katarina Mark.

The root of every problem I have. The fear I never outran. The identity I refused to claim.

“No, no, no… not now,” I hissed quietly.

I scrubbed at the mark, rough, as if I could erase it like a smudge of ink. Sometimes it faded. Today it didn’t. It clung stubbornly, glowing the faintest shade of shadow-black beneath my skin.

My chest tightened. The room felt smaller. If anyone saw this, I wasn’t just a wolf.

I swallowed hard, fighting the tremor in my hands, and lowered my head even more.

“I’m a werewolf,” I whispered. “Just a werewolf. Full stop.”

The words rang hollow. The deepest part of me knew it. Saying it was the only thing keeping me from breaking apart.

**

The rest of the class passed without me absorbing a single sentence. Students acted normal, but several wolves kept sniffing the air subtly, eyes sharpening every time I shifted in my seat. They didn’t know what happened, but they sensed something.

By the time I slipped out of the lecture hall, the corridor felt like a tunnel stretching forever, its noise scraping against my overstimulated senses.

First day, and I’d already played God with time.

Great start, Sky. Absolutely brilliant.

Only when I reached a small garden in the east wing did I let myself slow. It was quieter here. The cold breeze threaded through my hair, and the mundane chirping of birds—real birds, not supernatural ones, finally gave me a moment of normality.

My perfect ending for day one?

Standing alone in a garden, staring at a cursed mark that refused to disappear, knowing the world was shifting around me whether I liked it or not.

Sooner or later, everyone at this academy will learn the truth.

A low growl rolled from behind me, slicing through the air.

“I know what you did back then.”

The hairs on my arms lifted and just like that peace was over.