Aurora’s P.O.V
(One year later)
I let out a long, dramatic groan, leaning back in my chair and dragging my hand down my face.
“Do we really have to do this? I mean, we fought wraiths, we survived Harmona’s curses, we literally saved this entire town, and now we’re… filling out college applications? That feels like the lamest kind of punishment.”
Caroline looked at me from across the table with that calm, patient smile of hers, though I could tell her eyes were already tired from trying to wrangle all of us. “Aurora, yes, it’s necessary. Unfortunately, the world doesn’t care that we’ve slain wraiths and vanquished evil witches. People only care about degrees and resumes. If you want to walk into a job interview, saying ‘Hey, I once stopped a dark sorceress from ripping apart the veil between worlds’ is not going to get you hired.”
Shane immediately burst into laughter, leaning back so far in his chair I thought he’d topple. “Oh my god, can you imagine Aurora in an interview? ‘Strengths? Uh, well, I’m good at stabbing shadow monsters. Weaknesses? Probably potion classes.’” He was practically wheezing.
Mia snapped her head toward him, eyes narrowed. “You don’t get to laugh, Shane. You’re the one who barely scraped by with a 2.8 GPA. Don’t act like you’re the genius of the group.”
Shane straightened, still smirking. “Excuse me, 2.85, thank you very much. And last I checked, I was the one who actually survived Calc II without crying.”
Mia jabbed her pencil at him like it was a weapon. “You passed Calc II because you copied half my notes and bribed the professor with coffee every morning. Don’t pretend it was skill.”
“Coffee is a skill,” Shane shot back, grinning wider. “Takes timing, precision, and charm. Three things I have in abundance.”
I rolled my eyes and waved my hand between them. “Okay, but seriously, do we all have to go to college? Like, is there an option where I can just… live in the woods, eat berries, and train the next generation of monster slayers? That feels way more useful.”
Caroline sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Aurora, no. You need a degree. We all do. Society won’t take us seriously otherwise.”
“Society can bite me,” I muttered under my breath, slumping down further in my chair.
From the corner, Jade, who had been quietly filling out his application like it was no big deal, finally looked up.
“You guys are acting like this is the end of the world. It’s just applications. You’ve fought wraiths. You can fill out a form.”
“Forms are worse than wraiths,” I said flatly. “Wraiths you stab. Forms stab your soul slowly with repetitive questions like ‘list your extracurricular’ and ‘what makes you unique.’ Like, what am I supposed to write? ‘Well, I once killed a ghoul with a frying pan and rescued a cat possessed by a spirit.’ Is that unique enough?”
Shane snorted again, nearly choking on his own laughter. “I would pay to see an admissions officer read that.”
“Don’t encourage her,” Mia groaned, smacking Shane lightly on the arm with her notebook. “We’re supposed to be serious. This is about our future.”
“Future,” I said, twirling my pen aimlessly. “I already know my future. It’s me handling you bunch of hooligans as your new Luna. College doesn’t fit in that picture.”
Caroline looked me dead in the eye, her voice firm now. “Aurora, stop it. You deserve a life where people see you as more than the girl who stabs monsters. That’s why this matters. You’re smart enough. You’re capable enough. So fill out the damn application.”
The room went quiet for a second, her words settling in heavier than I expected. I fiddled with my pen, pretending not to let them sink in.
“…Fine,” I muttered. “But I’m still writing about the frying pan thing. I think it’s legendary.”
Shane leaned over, grinning. “Legendary enough to get you into Harvard.”
Mia rolled her eyes so hard I thought they’d get stuck. “Please. Harvard would set her application on fire.”
Caroline groaned again, but I caught the small smile tugging at her lips.
I sat there quietly, listening to the others bicker about colleges, majors, and the future like it was the most pressing thing in the world, when all I could think about was how warm Caleb’s hand felt under the table. I slid my fingers into his without saying a word, just squeezing his hand softly, almost afraid that if I let go, the fragile sense of normalcy we had finally found would vanish again. He glanced at me once, the corner of his mouth twitching like he wanted to smile but was too busy trying to look serious in front of everyone else.
I held onto him tighter anyway, letting my thumb brush over the back of his hand, grounding myself in him. It felt good, it felt safe, it felt like maybe things had finally settled… at least until the sound of the door creaking open made the whole room fall into silence.
Damien walked in like he owned the place, not even sparing a glance at anyone as he casually leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room with that irritating calmness of his.
“Why are you here again?” Caleb asked, his voice low but heavy, like he was already tired of dealing with him. “I thought I made it clear the last time, this isn’t your place to be wandering in and out of as you please.”
Damien didn’t answer right away. He just smirked, tilting his head slightly as if Caleb’s frustration amused him more than anything else. “Relax, Alpha,” he finally said, his tone mocking, lazy, almost like a challenge hidden beneath the calmness. “I didn’t come here for you anyway.”
“Of course!” Caleb echoed with a sharp laugh, though it lacked any humor. “But if this continues, Damien, I swear, I’ll just appoint you as my Gamma. Since you’re always here anyway, might as well give you something useful to do.”
That made most of us roll our eyes. Here we go again.
Damien chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Appoint me your Gamma?” he repeated, his gaze locking back on Caleb, sharp and unyielding now. “I’m an Alpha, in case the wraiths fried your dumb brain. I’ll never work under you, Caleb. Not now, not ever. But I am here for a reason.”
Caleb folded his arms tightly across his chest, tilted his head slightly, his brows furrowing as he asked, “And what reason would that be, Damien? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you just came here to stir trouble.”
Damien didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached into his jacket pocket slowly, deliberately, like he wanted every single pair of eyes in the room to follow his hand. When he finally pulled out the envelope and held it up, his smirk widened, and that was when I heard Caroline gasp so loudly it made my chest tighten.
Every single head in the room turned to her, mine included, and she looked like she had just seen something she never expected to see. I took a step toward her, confused and worried at the same time, and asked softly, “Caroline… What is it? Are you okay?”
Her eyes never left the envelope in Damien’s hand. She shook her head quickly, then whispered with her voice breaking, “Is that… is that the what I think it is?” She didn’t look at me, didn’t look at Caleb, her whole world in that moment was narrowed down to Damien and whatever he was holding.
Damien’s expression softened just for a second, but then he gave her a slow nod, his voice calm, almost gentle when he said. “Yes, Caroline. It’s the one. You got accepted… UC Berkeley.”
The words hit like thunder, bouncing off the walls of the room, and I swear I felt the air shift. Caroline’s hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with disbelief, and she stumbled back a little as if her legs weren’t strong enough to hold her up. “Oh my god…are you serious? Don’t play games with me, Damien. Please, don’t,” she stammered, her voice trembling between hope and fear.
“I’m not playing,” Damien replied firmly, stepping forward and extending the envelope toward her. “You earned this. Everything you worked for, Caroline… it paid off. You’re in.”
Caleb blinked, glancing between the two of them, then let out a disbelieving laugh. “Wait, wait, hold on. UC Berkeley? You mean you’re heading to another state for college?” He sounded half annoyed, half relieved, but I noticed he didn’t look away from Caroline, who was already shaking as tears slipped down her cheeks.
Caroline reached out with trembling fingers, barely daring to touch the envelope Damien was holding, and whispered, “I…I thought I wasn’t good enough. I thought my scores, my essays, all of it wasn’t enough. Damien, how…how did you even get this?”
Damien chuckled lightly, though his eyes were warm. “You think I wouldn’t keep tabs? You think I wouldn’t make sure the moment this arrived, it got to you? You worked too hard for this. You deserve to know.”