The Secrets We Keep (Greyson Academy, Year One)

Prologue

The music pounds through my body like a second heartbeat as I dance with my friends, celebrating my twentieth birthday at our favorite off-campus bar.

The bass vibrates through the sticky floor and up into my bones.

Blackwood Academy’s finest—aka the only people who put up with my sarcastic ass for the past year—have gone all out tonight.

The air reeks of cheap beer and too much cologne, but I don’t care.

Jess has even convinced the bartender to make those electric blue cocktails I love, the ones that taste like liquid candy and bad decisions.

“Best. Birthday. Ever!” I shout over the music, my throat already raw from screaming along to every song. My friends cheer, their faces flushed and gleaming with sweat under the strobing lights.

By midnight, though, something feels off. A strange tingling starts at the base of my spine, like ice water trickling down my vertebrae. It spreads through my limbs like electricity searching for ground, making my fingertips buzz against my drink.

“You okay, Ash?” Mia asks, her face swimming in my vision through the haze of smoke and flashing lights. “You look pale.”

I force a smile, tasting the metallic tang of fear on my tongue. “Just need some air. Too many blue things.”

The cool night air hits my face like a slap when I step outside, carrying the scent of rain-soaked concrete and car exhaust. But it doesn’t help. The tingling has become an ache, deep and insistent, like something is trying to claw its way out from inside my bones. I need to get home. Now.

“I’m calling an Uber,” Jess insists, her words slightly slurred as she fumbles with her phone.

“It’s only a ten-minute walk. I need to clear my head.” The lie tastes bitter on my lips.

I shouldn’t go alone. Every instinct I have screams this at me, but my legs are already moving.

Halfway through the park shortcut to my apartment, pain rips through my body without warning.

I collapse onto the damp grass, the cold moisture seeping through my jeans as my fingers dig into the earth.

Wave after wave of agony rolls through me, each one worse than the last, like my skeleton is trying to rearrange itself.

Something is wrong with the shadows beneath the trees.

They move against the breeze, swirling toward me like smoke drawn to a flame.

The air grows thick and heavy, pressing against my lungs.

My skin burns as the shadows touch me, coiling around my arms and legs like living things.

They feel cold and warm at the same time, impossible and terrifying.

“What the hell?” I gasp, watching in horror as my shadow peels away from the ground, rising like a dark mirror of myself before dissolving into tendrils that wrap around my body with the gentleness of a lover’s touch.

The pain concentrates between my shoulder blades, building until white spots dance across my vision.

It feels like something is trying to tear its way out of my back with razor-sharp claws.

I scream, the sound raw and animalistic, but it’s swallowed by the shadows gathering around me like a hungry tide.

“Don’t fight it, Ashley.”

The deep voice rumbles through the surrounding air, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere.

I look up through tears that blur my vision to see a man standing at the edge of the shadows.

Except he isn’t just a man. Massive black feathered wings extend from his back, spanning at least fifteen feet and blocking out the moonlight.

Each feather catches the dim light like polished obsidian, creating a mesmerizing pattern of depth and darkness that seems to shift and move even when the wings are still.

“Who—” I can’t finish as another spasm of pain cuts through me, stealing my breath.

He moves closer with predatory grace, his green eyes reflecting the dim light with an otherworldly glow.

There’s something distinctly inhuman about his beauty—the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the way his pale skin seems to glow in the moonlight, the predatory stillness in the way he holds himself.

His dark hair falls across his forehead in waves that look like they’ve never seen sunlight, and when he smiles, I catch a glimpse of elongated canines that mark him as something far more dangerous than human.

“My name is Bael. I’ve been waiting for this moment since you were born.”

“Waiting for what?” I manage through gritted teeth, tasting copper where I’ve bitten my tongue. “Me to die in a park on my birthday?”

The corner of his mouth twitches upward, revealing those sharp teeth again. “Your Ascension.”

Before I can ask what the hell that means, the pain peaks. I hear a sickening tearing sound and realize with horror it’s coming from me. The shadows surge, forming a cocoon around my body as something bursts from my back with a wet, ripping sound that makes my stomach turn.

Bael kneels beside me, his wings creating a canopy over us both. This close, I can feel the unnatural coolness radiating from his skin, can see the way his pupils dilate as he watches me with an intensity that should terrify me. “Breathe through it. Let the shadows help you.”

“What’s happening to me?” I sob, my voice breaking as the shadows respond to my distress, somehow cushioning the pain with their cool touch.

“You’re becoming what you were always meant to be,” he says, his hand finding mine.

When our skin touches, something electric passes between us—a connection that feels both foreign and strangely right, like coming home to a place I’ve never been.

His skin is marble-cold but somehow comforting, solid and real in a world that’s suddenly turned upside down. “An Ascendant.”

The moment our flesh connects, Bael goes completely still.

His breathing stops—not that it seemed necessary for him to begin with—and his eyes widen with something that looks like shock, then wonder, then hunger.

His grip on my hand tightens, and I feel his thumb trace over my knuckles with a reverence that makes my pulse skip.

“Impossible,” he breathes, his voice rougher now, edged with something that sounds almost desperate. “You’re...” He shakes his head, as if trying to clear it, but his eyes never leave my face. “The connection. I can feel everything you feel.”

Some primal part of me, buried deep beneath twenty years of thinking I was completely human, recognizes him.

Not his face or his name, but something deeper—his essence, his soul, whatever the hell it is that makes him who he is.

The fear that’s been clawing at my chest since this nightmare began suddenly quiets, replaced by an inexplicable sense of safety.

Of belonging. Like every step I’ve ever taken has been leading me to this moment, to him.

The shadows part just enough for me to see what has emerged from my back.

Wings. Massive, powerful wings that span nearly as wide as Bael’s.

But where his feathers are uniformly black as midnight, mine are a deeper darkness with crimson tips that seem to glow with their own internal light.

Each feather is perfect, from the downy ones close to my back to the long flight feathers at the tips.

They rustle with each breath I take, the sound like silk whispering against silk.

“Holy shit,” I whisper, watching them flex involuntarily, feeling the new muscles in my back pull and stretch. The feathers are incredibly soft, softer than anything I’ve ever felt, and when I move them, they respond to my will as if they’ve always been part of me.

“Extraordinary,” Bael murmurs, reaching out to touch one of my wings with trembling fingers.

When his skin makes contact with my feathers, I gasp at the sensation—it’s like every nerve ending in my wing lights up at once.

His touch sends shivers through the sensitive appendages, and I watch his pupils blow wide at my reaction.

“I’ve never seen shadows move like that in a new Ascendant.

They’re protecting you already. And these wings.

..” He trails a finger along the edge of one primary feather, and I have to bite back a moan at how good it feels.

“They’re magnificent. Powerful. You’re going to be incredibly strong once you learn to use them. ”

I notice then how the shadows are still swirling around us, responding to my fear and confusion like living things. When I reach toward them cautiously, they reach back, twining around my fingers like affectionate cats. They feel cool and soft, like silk made of darkness.

“What’s an Ascendant?” I ask, my voice hoarse from screaming.

His expression darkens, and I catch a flash of something dangerous in his eyes—something that reminds me he’s not just beautiful, he’s lethal.

“The rarest of our kind. One in thirty thousand births. You’re Nephilim, but more—you can harness your blood as either light or dark, and you’re a Vessel who can power a Gifted human.

Plus, your own unique gift, which I suspect is command, given how your shadows respond. ”

I stare at him, trying to process what he’s saying while my brain feels like it’s short-circuiting. “Our kind? You’re like me?”

“Not exactly.” His wings shift; the movement is hypnotic in the dim light. Each feather catches and reflects the moonlight differently, creating an almost hypnotic pattern. “I’m a Dark Nephilim with vampire blood. I’ve been assigned to protect your bloodline for centuries.”

“That’s... a lot to fucking unpack.” I try to move and wince as my new wings pull at unfamiliar muscles, sending sharp pains shooting down my spine. The feathers ruffle with my discomfort. “Why would I need protection?”

“Because Ascendants are killed on sight,” he says bluntly, and ice floods my veins. “The light Nephilim consider Dark Nephilim abominations—but Ascendants terrify them. You’re too powerful, too unpredictable. You bridge worlds they’ve spent millennia keeping separate.”

Fear grips me with icy claws. “So I just sprouted kill-me-now wings in the middle of a public park?”

“I’ve kept anyone from coming near us,” he says, and I notice for the first time how unnaturally quiet the park has become. Even the usual city sounds seem muffled, distant. “But you can’t stay at Blackwood. You need to learn to control your powers somewhere safer.”

He shows me how to retract my wings—a process almost as painful as their emergence, like folding broken glass back into my skin.

The feathers seem to melt away into my back, disappearing completely as if they were never there.

Then he helps me to my feet, his hands steady and sure.

Despite everything that should terrify me about this situation, I lean into his strength, trusting him in a way that defies logic.

“I’ve arranged your transfer to Greyson Academy. It’s where gifted humans and Nephilim learn to control their abilities.”

“You’ve been planning this,” I realize, anger cutting through the shock like a blade. “How long have you known this would happen to me?”

“Since before you were born,” he says simply, and something in his tone tells me there’s so much more to that story. His hand is still on mine, and he seems reluctant to let go. “Your family has produced Ascendants before.”

I want to argue, to tell him to take his wings and his explanations and go to hell, but exhaustion is rapidly overtaking me.

The adrenaline is crashing, leaving me shaky and weak.

Plus, there’s this weird pull toward him I can’t explain, like gravity has shifted and he’s become my center.

Every instinct I have is telling me that despite the fangs and the otherworldly beauty and the general aura of danger, I’m safer with him than I’ve ever been in my life.

“What did you do to me?” I ask, gesturing between us with a trembling hand. “When you touched me, I felt... something.”

His eyes darken to the color of a forest at midnight, and when he speaks, his voice is rough with an emotion I can’t identify.

“That’s a conversation for another time.

For now, you need rest.” He wraps an arm around my waist as my legs threaten to give out, and his touch sends warmth spreading through my body despite his cool skin.

The way he holds me is possessive, protective, like he’s claiming me. “Tomorrow, your new life begins.”

“Wait,” I say as he moves, my feet stumbling on the uneven ground. “Where are you taking me?”

He pauses, his arm tightening around me. I can feel the tension in his body, see the way his jaw clenches. “Somewhere safe. My lair is warded—no one can find you there while you complete your transformation.”

The word ‘lair’ should terrify me. Everything about this situation should terrify me.

But something deep inside, some instinct I never knew I had, whispers that I can trust him.

That I belong with him, in ways I don’t understand yet.

It’s like recognition on a cellular level, my body, and soul knowing something my mind hasn’t caught up to yet.

As he leads me toward the deepest shadows at the edge of the park, I feel the darkness reach out to embrace us.

One moment we’re walking on solid ground, the next we’re moving through liquid night itself.

The sensation is like being underwater, but breathing perfectly fine.

It should be impossible, but then again, so should the wings that are now tucked invisibly between my shoulder blades.

I glance back to see the shadows following us like obedient pets, and I can’t help but think: Happy fucking birthday to me.