The door clicked shut behind the vampire tutor and the wolf-pack scout. Zephyr's mother, Elara Ardent, stood rigid, fingers trembling on the latch. Lyra hovered at her shoulder, eyes wide. Zephyr drew a steadying breath, heart pounding in uncertain anticipation.
"Please," Elara said, voice calm but firm. "Make yourselves comfortable."
The tutor—tall, elegant in a charcoal coat—inclined her head. "Thank you, Mrs. Ardent. I trust your son is recuperating?"
Zephyr slid back his hoodie, revealing the jagged scar on his shoulder. "I'll live." His voice sounded hollow in the cramped hallway.
The scout—broad-shouldered, eyes glinting slate—stepped forward. "Time is short, young bloodwolf. Covenant forces and Pack enforcers both hunt the node fragment. Your brother's sacrifice forced the core's resonance. Now it calls for you."
Lyra's gasp echoed. Zephyr moved to shield his sister with a sideways step. "I'm not 'calling' on anything. I barely know what I am."
The tutor's gaze softened. "You are more than a boy, Zephyr. The ancient blood-runes in your lineage have awakened. But you need guidance to master the gift—and the curse." She produced a slender leather-bound tome from inside her coat. Its cover was etched with moon and fang symbols. "This is the Covenant's primer on blood-magic. Study it, and you will learn to harness Hemaleth energy without losing yourself."
Zephyr accepted the book warily, fingertips brushing the embossed glyphs. The leather was warm—alive, almost. He glanced at his mother. "Why should I trust you?"
Elara set a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Because she saved me once." Her eyes met the tutor's. "After Willow's Hollow fell, you escorted me out—taught me the rites I still carry."
The tutor inclined her head. "Your mother has long honored our truce, Mrs. Ardent. I ask only that her son continue that tradition."
The scout folded his arms. "And I, as pack envoy, will teach you to channel Lunar Fury—how to shift without losing control, how to fight as wolf without succumbing to the beast."
Zephyr's mind whirled. On one side: blood-alchemy, covert rituals, shadows and velvet whispers. On the other: raw lupine strength, hunting techniques, pack bonds. He closed the book and slipped it under his arm. "I need time to think."
The tutor's lips curved in a faint smile. "Of course. But night falls swiftly. We can begin at moonrise."
They rose to leave. Zephyr's mother guided them to the door. As the hallway light receded behind them, an unnatural hush settled—too quiet, as if the city itself held its breath.
Zephyr sat at his desk beneath a single lamp, the Covenant primer open to its first chapter: "Blood-Binding Basics: Safe Hemaleth Extraction." Lyra curled at his feet, doodling wolf silhouettes in her sketchbook. Outside, the city's heartbeat pulsed through his window—car horns, distant laughter, the unceasing hum of neon.
He traced a rune on the page: a simple circle intersected by jagged lines. "Hemaleth is life-force made manifest," the text read. "A disciplined flow of blood-energy can heal, strengthen, or destroy."
He closed his eyes and pressed his fingertips to his wrist pulse. Steady. He imagined drawing that life-force from his veins—tiny sparks of warmth flickering beneath his skin. Only a trick of focus, he told himself. When he opened his eyes, Lyra looked up.
"Zeph, are you okay?"
He managed a small smile. "Just… reading." He tapped the rune. "This symbol—Grandma's rites used it, right?"
Lyra nodded. "I drew it once in the shelter. I felt… something."
He set the book aside and rose. "I need fresh air."
Outside on the fire escape, Zephyr wrapped his arms around himself. The skyline stretched before him, rooftops rolling like waves beneath the red-tinted moon. Anxiety knotted his stomach. Start slow, he reminded himself. Learn the basics.
A soft click drew his gaze to the open window behind him. His mother stood there, eyes sorrowful. "Don't be gone long," she whispered. "I'll prepare the first ritual—sage, moon-fern."
He nodded, pushing off the railing. "I'll be careful."
She didn't respond; just watched as he climbed down to the next roof, each footstep echoing in the silent night.
Zephyr followed the tutor's instructions: he knelt on a slate tile beneath the moon's glow, placing a circle of salt, lighting a coil of night-bloom petals, and seating the Covenant primer before him. He held the book open to the diagram.
"Step 1: Place left palm on thigh, right palm on book. Focus on Hemaleth resonance. Breathe slowly."
He pressed his palms as directed. The air seemed to thicken. His pulse echoed in his ears, a low drumbeat. He inhaled… exhaled… The moonlight glinted off the page.
A soft hum thrummed through his body. His vision shimmered at the edges. "Focus on the rune," he murmured, voice unsteady.
Ping.
Hemaleth Gauge: 5%
His chest fluttered as a warmth bloomed in his palms. For a moment, he sensed something beyond: threads of crimson light weaving between his fingers. He fought to maintain calm—one breath, two breaths.
Then—a sharp crack from above. Zephyr's head snapped up as the roof ridge groaned under weight. A shadow detached itself from the eaves—a vampire enforcer, silent and lithe, fangs glinting. Behind it, two more figures emerged: pack scouts, eyes blazing.
"Thank you for the demonstration," the enforcer said, voice smooth as silk. "But we prefer hands-on learning."
Zephyr sprang to his feet, heart thrashing. The circle of salt lay broken where he'd leaned. He yanked the book free. The petals scattered; the sage smoke faded.
Behind him, the second scout snarled, claws extended. The ground's tile shattered under its weight. Zephyr backed away, grips tight around the primer.
Moonblood Gauge: charging…
Adrenaline surged. He spun, kicking a broken tile at the enforcer. It shattered harmlessly. The enforcer stepped forward, hand raised in mock courtesy. "Yield the core device and surrender," it said. "Or we take it."
Zephyr's blood sang. Rage flared. He couldn't let them hurt his mother or Lyra. With a roar, he dropped the book and sprinted toward the scout at the far edge. His legs felt impossibly strong—fur beneath his skin itched to emerge.
He launched himself at the scout, tackling it into the petals. Smoke swirled as their bodies hit the ground. Zephyr's teeth sunk into leather, breath hot. He bit down, tasting iron. The scout howled, slamming him away.
The enforcer advanced on the book. Zephyr leapt up, arms flailing to block its strike. He caught the enforcer's wrist, emptying his pockets—no cylinder, no drive. He'd left it inside. Panic lanced through him.
Behind him, a heavy crash: the scout had burst through the tutor's window and seized the opened primer. Pages fluttered. Dark energy pulsed in the air as runes leaped off the pages and dissolved into smoke.
Zephyr's heart dropped. Without the primer, he had no control. The moonlight felt oppressive—pulling. He staggered, ankle twisting over debris. Pain lanced.
A sharp bark drew his attention. The wolf-pack scout—the one at his back—lunged, claws gleaming. Zephyr threw up an arm, fury and fear propelling the motion. The scout's talons ripped through fabric and flesh. Pain bloomed raw.
Moonblood Gauge: 75%
His vision tunneled red. He screamed—half-human, half-beast—lunged at the enforcer in a blind fury. The tutor's calm voice cut through the chaos:
"Zephyr! Remember your mother's rites!"
Something in the words jolted him. The rune talisman under his hoodie pulsed. He clutched it, closing his eyes against the pain. A warmth surged from the wood, bleeding into his chest. He inhaled raggedly, and the world slowed.
He opened his eyes. The scout's snarl froze as he raised shaking fingers and drew the rune in the air. A burst of crimson light flared, sending both enforcers skidding back.
Silence fell. Zephyr sank to his knees, panting, clutching the talisman. The petals lay scorched around him. The primer lay in tatters at the tutor's feet.
The enforcer rose, eyes wary. "Impressive," it said quietly. "But this is far from over."
With a sweep of its coat, it vanished into the night, scout in tow. The moonlight fractured, and the rooftop fell quiet once more.
Zephyr stayed knelt, chest heaving, rune talisman warm against his ribs. The high-octane lesson had begun far sooner than he expected—and he was only just waking to the power—and the peril—buried in his blood.