Chapter Thirty-Five
The Academy chose the auditorium that morning.
I knew that because it always did.
Chose, I mean.
It was up to follow its latest whim.
The space revealed itself only when it wanted to be used, when whatever needed to happen inside it had reached a certain inevitability.
I’d only seen this room a handful of times before, not out of neglect or lack of curiosity, but because the Academy simply hadn’t opened that door very often.
Hallways that normally curved away from it now straightened. A set of double doors appeared where there had been nothing but stone the night before, their surfaces etched with old sigils that caught the light like dew.
The auditorium wasn’t vast in the way mortal halls tried to be impressive.
It was vast in a quieter, truer sense. The ceiling arched high above, layered with translucent stone that shimmered like moonlit clouds, revealing glimpses of sky that didn’t correspond to any single direction or time of day.
Rows of seats flowed downward in gentle terraces, carved from pale stone that warmed beneath your feet, as if it remembered every gathering that had ever taken place there.
At the center, the floor dipped into a shallow circular platform, its surface inlaid with silver strings that pulsed faintly, responding to presence rather than command.
It was beautiful and felt right, which mattered today of all days.
Twobble stood near the front, hopping from seat to seat with a clipboard he absolutely didn’t need, waving his arms and calling out names with exaggerated importance.
“All right, fangs to the left, claws in the back, capes and hats off, please. This is a sacred space, not a cloakroom.”
A few vampires chuckled, while others rolled their eyes, but none of them ignored him.
Lady Limora moved through the aisles with effortless grace. She spoke quietly to clusters of vampires, murmuring reassurances, smoothing ruffled nerves. Her authority was as natural as breathing.
Nova stood closer to the center, hands folded loosely in front of her. Her green eyes were tracking patterns no one else could see.
She wasn’t directing so much as aligning thoughts and energy, ensuring that when the moment came, the magic would settle instead of resist.
Stella, of course, was holding court.
With tea.
She stood at the ready with a teapot in hand, speaking animatedly to a group of older vampires whose expressions ranged from delighted to scandalized. Every now and then, laughter rippled outward from wherever she stood, lightening the mood without undermining the gravity of why they’d been called.
Seeing all of them together like this was… astonishing.
Vampires didn’t gather lightly. They were creatures of patience and habit, more inclined toward private councils and long memories than large assemblies. Many lived isolated lives, from what I heard, but you’d never know it seeing this.
Some wore elegant, old-fashioned clothing that spoke of centuries past, while others dressed more practically, blending modern styles with subtle nods to tradition. Their eyes gleamed in the shifting light, sharp and alert, and their fangs were undoubtedly at the ready.
I took a seat near the back at first, wanting to observe, to feel the shape of the gathering before stepping into it. As I settled, the Academy seemed to sigh, the air growing warmer, the silver threads in the floor pulsing once in quiet approval.
That approval mattered more than I wanted to admit.
I’d been making decisions on instinct and information and a whole lot of hope lately, and now what I was about to ask of many seemed so much larger than me.
The vampires continued to arrive, filtering in through side entrances that appeared and vanished as needed. Each one seemed to know exactly where to go, guided by an internal compass tuned to the room itself.
Twobble trotted over to me, lowering his voice. “See? Smooth. I told you they’d listen.”
“I didn’t doubt that,” I murmured. “I doubted whether they’d all come.”
He grinned. “Oh, they are coming. The Academy doesn’t open this place unless it means business. Just the fact that they came when Lady Limora snapped her fingers should say it all.”
I glanced around again, taking it all in.
The way conversations overlapped without clashing.
The way old rivalries seemed to soften under the weight of shared concern.
The way the room held them gently, encouraging unity without demanding it.
I wondered if there would ever be a time where orcs, shifters, Fae, vampires, witches and more could settle in the same circle of hope and peace.
Lady Limora met my gaze from across the auditorium and gave a small nod, her expression unreadable but steady. Nova followed her gaze, then offered a faint smile of her own.
Stella raised her teacup toward me in a casual salute. I couldn’t help smiling back.
Eventually, the murmurs began to quiet on their own, conversations tapering off as attention drifted toward the platform, which signaled it must be my time to say something.
For a moment, I simply breathed and stood, trying to push the nerves away that suddenly slipped through me.
Keegan walked into the room and settled next to Nova.
As I stepped forward, the vampires watched with calm intensity, their gazes alert but not unkind. They weren’t here to be commanded. They were here to be consulted and acknowledged.
My mind suddenly quieted in that way that comes from knowing you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be, even if you don’t yet know how the story ends.
Whatever came next, we would face it together.
And the Academy, for once, wasn’t just watching.
It was listening and offering something more.
The hush that followed my step onto the platform surprised me. The vampires settled back into their seats, teacups lowered, murmurs silenced, centuries of attention turning toward the center of the room.
I took a breath and let it steady me.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice carrying easily in the acoustics of the auditorium. “All of you. I know how rare it is for this space to open, and how much it means that you answered when it did.”
A few murmurs of appreciation echoed through the room.
Twobble stood off to one side of the platform, chest puffed out with importance.
Skonk lingered behind him like a very patient wall. Nova and Stella flanked me as I took a breath to ground me.
Lady Limora remained seated for now, elegant and unreadable, her attention taut as a blade wrapped in silk.
My parents sat in the front row, and seeing them there nearly melted me.
My mother watched with open pride, hands folded in her lap, her expression soft but alert. And I imagined myself doing the same if Celeste ever needs to be in my place. The thought should have worried me, but it didn’t.
My dad sat beside her, posture relaxed but eyes intent, like a man who knew something was coming and intended to meet it head-on.
Whatever complicated, unresolved conversation existed between them was very much on the back burner, and somehow that felt right.
There would be time for that later. Today was about something bigger.
I let my gaze sweep the room once more before continuing.
“As many of you’ve heard, there’s been movement,” I said.
“They’re not making their way toward Stonewick, as many of us feared, but toward the Northern Luminary.
We’ve confirmed that orc factions are marching, not in conquest, but in displacement.
Their homelands are changing and failing.
Something is pushing them out of the lands they’ve called home forever. ”
A low murmur rippled through the seats, quickly stilled.
“They aren’t marching because they want war,” I added. “They’re marching because they’re running out of ground.”
That landed differently.
I could see it in the subtle shifts of posture and the narrowing of eyes, not in suspicion but in calculation.
If anyone understood displacement, it was immortals.
Vampires knew what it meant to be driven by forces larger than yourself.
“We’ve also felt unrest among the shifter clans,” I continued. “There are movements that don’t align with the end of the Hunger Path the way we expected. Something has replaced that pressure.”
My father’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
“I’m hoping,” I said carefully, “that none of this comes to conflict. That we can speak, listen, and find solutions before things escalate. But I won’t pretend there’s no risk. I plan to speak with the orcs, and I might need some protection along the way.”
I paused and scanned the room.
“If things go wrong, if Stonewick is threatened or others are drawn into harm, I’m asking for your help.”
The room was silent.
I held myself still and didn’t shrink from the weight of what I was asking.
Vampires didn’t offer allegiance lightly. Merely showing up meant something. They chose their causes with care, and they remembered those choices for centuries.
Lady Limora rose smoothly from her seat.
“There is no need to ask,” she said, her voice calm and carrying. “We are already here.”
A soft ripple of assent moved through the auditorium.
“Stonewick has sheltered us,” she continued.
“Respected us. Allowed us autonomy without neglect. If the balance is threatened, we will respond. That is not a favor. It is the responsibility of the magical world. It’s why I was called along with Mara, Opal, and Vivenne.
We were never meant to be students, but we certainly enjoy the classes. ”
“Thank you,” I said sincerely.
She inclined her head. “That said—” her gaze flicked toward the doors at the far end of the hall “—the shifters may require… more discussion. They haven’t always been…kind to our type.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
As if summoned by the question, the doors opened.
The Silver Wolf stepped inside, her presence cutting through the room like a sudden draft of mountain air. Conversations stilled instantly. Several vampires shifted in their seats, not alarmed exactly, but alert in a way that set my nerves humming.
She didn’t look at them. Her gaze locked on me.
“Maeve,” she said evenly. “There are alphas here to speak with you.”
A ripple of unease moved through the auditorium this time, sharper than before. Vampires straightened. A few hands tightened around teacups. Old instincts stirred, territorial and wary.
Twobble made a face and glanced at the vampires.
“Easy now, girls,” he stage-whispered loudly. “Nobody bare fangs. This is a civilized institution.”
Stella snorted softly, and I stepped down from the platform without hesitation.
My heart was pounding, but my resolve was steady.
“Thank you,” I said to the Silver Wolf. “I’ll meet them.”
Lady Limora watched me closely as I passed, her expression thoughtful.
“Choose your words carefully,” she murmured. “Shifter politics are… textured.”
“I’ve noticed,” I replied wryly. “Can you take over for me? Ask if there are any willing to make the journey with me to the Hollows?”
Keegan was already moving toward me, his presence immediate and grounding at my side. He didn’t speak, just fell into step, his shoulder brushing mine with quiet reassurance.
Twobble planted himself between the vampires and the doors.
“All right,” he announced. “No dramatic lunging. No historical grudges. This is a listening exercise.”
Skonk crossed his arms behind him, which somehow made the point land.
As Keegan and I followed the Silver Wolf down the corridor and toward the entryway, I felt the weight of everything pressing in again. It wasn’t crushing. This wasn’t the sensation of chaos about to erupt. It felt like a convergence, or maybe that was merely my na?ve hope.
I glanced up at Keegan. “Ready for another unexpected meeting?”
He smiled faintly. “At this point, I’d be worried if things went according to plan.”
I laughed softly, and squared my shoulders as the entry doors came into view.
Whatever the alphas wanted, they’d come to the Academy to ask, and that meant they were willing to talk.
For now, that was enough.