"This must be a mistake," Valeria said, her voice rising sharply above the low buzz of student chatter. The room stilled again.
Professor Cyrene lifted her gaze from the parchment. “Miss Valeria Valemont,” she said evenly, “is there a problem?”
Valeria stood, her chair scraping against the polished floor with a harsh screech. Her crimson eyes burned as she jabbed a finger toward the other side of the room. “There must be some kind of error. You paired me with him ?"
Tristan leaned back in his seat with practiced ease, arms draped over the backrest, a crooked smile playing on his lips.
Cyrene didn’t blink. “There are no errors. The pairings were made with care and intention. You and Tristan are partners for the entire academic year.”
Valeria’s jaw tensed. Her voice dropped an octave, colder. “This is absurd. I refuse to work with him.”
The professor’s expression shifted slightly. The warmth in her eyes faded, replaced by the cool, unyielding stare of someone who had long since run out of patience for teenage pride. “Refusal,” she said, “is not an option. The success of this program depends on your cooperation.”
She moved to the center of the platform again, voice projecting to the entire room. “Let me explain. The Special Testing Program was created to shatter the prejudices that have divided our kinds for generations. Every student here has been paired with someone from a different lineage. This is not punishment. It is opportunity.”
A murmur of unease threaded through the seats.
Cyrene continued, unbothered. “Throughout the year, you will work in tandem. Share classes. Participate in joint fieldwork. You will also be assigned to neighboring units.”
A wave of gasps broke across the room like a cresting tide.
“What?” Valeria’s voice joined the chorus, alarmed and disbelieving.
“Yes,” Cyrene said, her tone flat. “Your partner will stay right next to your room and your will have shared living spaces. Kitchens. Study halls. Lounges. You are expected to interact. To learn about each other’s cultures, strengths, and weaknesses. To see beyond the roles you've been born into.”
Valeria sank back into her seat as if the floor had dropped out beneath her. Her mind reeled. Dorm life with a werewolf?
Cyrene’s gaze swept over the room, unflinching. “And at the end of the year, each pair will present a joint project. A living record of what you’ve learned about one another and how your partnership has evolved.”
The weight of the assignment settled over the class like fog, cold and thick.
“I know this will be difficult for some of you,” the professor went on. “It’s meant to be. Discomfort is how we grow. Division and bitterness have no place in the future we must build.”
All eyes returned to Valeria and Tristan. The air between them was tight, stretched to snapping. Their tension had become the room’s gravity.
Professor Cyrene clasped her hands. “I suggest you both find a way to work together. Your grades, and your futures, depend on it.”
Valeria’s nails dug into her palms as she lowered her eyes, fury and humiliation clashing beneath her skin. This wasn’t how she imagined her time at Academia. Not even close.
Tristan slid into the now-empty seat beside her, lounging like he had all the time in the world. She could feel his presence pressing against her composure.
“Relax, Valeria,” he said in a low voice. “I’m not thrilled about this either.”
She didn’t turn to look at him. Her voice cut like a blade. “Then keep your distance.”
He leaned in, just enough to make it personal. “Are you so afraid you might like me?”
Her scoff was instantaneous, sharp. “Over my dead body.”
The remainder of the lesson unraveled around her, introductions, expectations, discussion of the year ahead. Valeria heard none of it. Her mind was a storm, all thought swept away by one relentless fact: she was bound to a werewolf.
And not just any werewolf.
Him.
As the class neared its end, Professor Cyrene addressed them one last time. “Your first assignment will be to study one another’s cultures. You’ll present in two weeks. Your understanding, your effort, these will shape your performance and your evaluation.”
With a sharp clap of Professor Cyrene’s hands, the golden strands vanished. In their place, glowing boards appeared along the walls, listing the pairings.
“Your rooms have been prepared,” Cyrene said. “Schedules and dorm keys will be distributed outside this hall. You are dismissed.”
A wave of movement surged through the room, students rising, shuffling, murmuring. Some looked intrigued. Others, dismayed. A few were already deep in animated conversation with their new partners.
Valeria remained seated, unmoving, her fists clenched tightly in her lap.
A familiar shadow fell over her.
“Shall we?” Tristan asked, grinning like this was all some grand game.
She stood stiffly, eager to escape the suffocating room. Her fury simmered beneath her skin, just barely restrained.
She turned to him, voice like ice.
“Stay out of my way, mutt.”
Tristan laughed under his breath. “Oh this is going to be fun.”
He fell into step beside her as they walked. His presence clung to her like static.
“So,” he said with faux cheer, “when do we start?”
Valeria stopped. Cold. She pivoted on her heel and faced him head-on.
“We don’t,” she said flatly. “I’ll handle the assignments myself. Just stay the hell away from me.”