The Lunar Crest Academy: Marked by The Lycans
Chapter 134: The Gathering Before the Storm

Chapter 134: Chapter 134: The Gathering Before the Storm

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The auditorium swelled with bodies, shoulder to shoulder, row after row, as every student in Lunar Crest Academy gathered under the haunting wail of the emergency siren. The heavy silence that followed the blare was more telling than any alarm, no one knew what to expect, but all could sense that whatever was coming... it would change everything.

Varya walked through the crowd, her expression unreadable, but the Lycan students surrounding her turned their heads with raised brows and whispered murmurs. It wasn’t just the suddenness of the assembly that had caught their attention, it was who Varya was walking beside.

Felix.

A feral.

Disheveled, gaunt, his knuckles still red from where he’d been pounding the tiles in grief less than an hour ago. His eyes looked hollow, like something inside him had died. Varya walked a step ahead, tense and clearly uncomfortable.

"Varya," one of the Lycans sneered. "What is that doing beside you?"

Another smirked. "Didn’t know you started babysitting the scraps."

Varya flushed, visibly agitated, and without glancing at Felix, she snapped, "I’m only with him because the Lycan prince gave me an assignment. It’s strictly orders."

Felix slowed his pace, the words landing like knives in the side of his chest. He stopped walking and stared at her for a moment

"If you’re so embarrassed to be seen with me," he said, his voice low, "then go ahead. Go back to your precious Lycans. I’m fine alone."

He didn’t wait for her reply.

Felix turned and walked away, his heart was still bleeding from Elise’s death, and now this. He entered the auditorium alone and quietly made his way to the front, searching.

He scanned the crowd, no sign of Lorraine. No Kieran either. He figured they were probably together, which made sense. But Adrian, he looked for Adrian, praying he’d been released, hoping this entire assembly was some formal announcement that the misunderstanding had been resolved.

But there was no sign of him either.

Felix’s throat tightened. Maybe he’s still locked up. Still being tortured for something he didn’t do...

And then....

The entire auditorium fell silent.

A suffocating, eerie hush rolled over the crowd like a thick cloud of smoke.

Everyone turned.

Adrian Vale entered.

He was no longer wearing the neutral, easy-going mask he always did. Gone was the warm glint in his eyes, the crooked smile, the noble-boy charm. He walked with an air that demanded fear, shoulders rolled back, steps steady, eyes sharp. Shadows seemed to follow his every move.

Beside him walked a girl.

A girl no one had ever seen before, yet something about her presence sent chills rippling through the crowd.

She was barefoot, her hair a chaotic cascade of blonde tangles that veiled half her face. Her aura was wild and terrifying, and the way her silver eyes shimmered beneath the curtain of hair made the air itself feel colder.

Adrian and Aveline moved down the center aisle like predators, and no one dared breathe too loud. The room felt like prey holding still beneath the gaze of monsters.

Felix’s heart leapt with hope at the sight of Adrian and he lurchef forward

"Adrian!" he called, rushing toward him.

But he never reached him.

Aveline moved faster than a blink. One moment she was walking beside Adrian, the next she was in front of Felix. Her hand caught his chest and slammed him down.

The auditorium gasped.

The impact was loud. The marble tiles beneath Felix’s body cracked, splintering like glass under the weight of her strength. Felix coughed out blood, stunned, body twisted on the broken floor.

No one moved. No one spoke.

The power that surged from her was like nothing they had ever felt.

And Felix laid crumpled in the fractured floor, his body screaming in agony, his thoughts spiraling into confusion.

Adrian.

Adrian Vale, his friend.

He had fought for them, smiled with them, stood beside them when no one else did. They shared meals. Laughed at stupid jokes. Survived brutality together. And now here he was.... walking like a stranger. A stranger dressed in the skin of someone he once trusted.

What the hell is going on?

Felix groaned, trying to push himself off the cold, broken tiles. His limbs trembled, every bone in his body feeling like glass threatening to shatter. He barely made it halfway before his legs buckled again.

But just before his body could hit the floor, a hand caught him, strong, steady, unrelenting.

He blinked and looked up.

Varya.

Her face was twisted into something between anger and disbelief as she pulled him to his feet. She didn’t speak to him, her focus had already locked on Adrian and the monstrous girl beside him.

She stepped forward, fury burning in her eyes. "Adrian Vale," she said, her voice sharp, echoing across the dead-silent auditorium. "What the hell is the meaning of this insolence? You dare attack a student and walk in here like some god? And who the hell is she?" Varya gestured at Aveline with scorn.

Adrian turned to face her slowly, the calm smile never leaving his lips. He tilted his head slightly, that same smug air of confidence cloaking him like a second skin.

Then he simply nodded to Aveline.

That was it.

No words.

Just a nod.

And before anyone, even the Lycans, could react, Aveline was no longer standing beside him. She was in front of Varya.

One second. That’s all it took.

Aveline’s fingers closed around Varya’s wrist with inhuman strength, like steel traps laced with fire. Varya gasped in pain, the pressure instantly crushing her bones. Her other hand went to strike, but Aveline moved again.

She spun, and threw her.

Varya’s body flew through the air like a ragdoll. It was fast. Brutal. Horrifying.

The crowd barely had time to turn their heads before Varya’s body slammed into the massive auditorium doors with such force the heavy metal buckled and snapped off its hinges. The doors collapsed, landing right on her with a deafening crash.

Gasps erupted across the room.

Not whispers. Not murmurs.

Gasps.

Shock and disbelief etched across every face.

A Lycan. Tossed like she weighed nothing.

No one had ever seen something like that. No one could believe it.

Aveline stood still, her glowing silver eyes sweeping across the room like a predator scanning prey. Blood from Felix’s earlier impact still stained her feet, but she didn’t seem to care. Her mouth twitched, something between amusement and disdain.

And Adrian?

He clapped. Slowly. Lazily.

"I suggest you all get used to this feeling," he said with a grin, voice cold and commanding. "The fear? The helplessness? That’s the new order. The old days of Lycans barking orders while everyone else grovels? They’re over."

He stepped forward, placing his hand gently on Aveline’s shoulder.

"Welcome to our reign."

Astrid Voss and Magnus Thorn suddenly stormed into the hall, both of them flanked by guards, their expressions grim and confused, until they saw who stood in the middle of the stage.

Astrid froze.

The air seemed to vanish from her lungs as her eyes locked on the girl beside Adrian, the girl with long, disheveled blonde hair, the one whose photo was kept in the restricted file, under special project, hidden from everyone...

"No," she breathed. "It can’t be...."

But it was.

The Ghosthound.

Released.

Standing freely before the academy.

Her skin pale as bone, her eyes still burning that haunting, unnatural silver. Even the way she stood, completely still, like a beast trying to hold in its rage, sent chills crawling down Astrid’s spine.

Magnus didn’t freeze like Astrid did.

The moment he caught sight of Varya’s crumpled body under the shattered door, he moved. A blur of Lycan speed. He reached her in seconds, tossing the mangled doors aside with a strength that cracked the floor beneath him.

"Varya!" he dropped to his knees, checking her pulse. Her body was bruised and bleeding, but she was alive.

"She’s breathing," he said through clenched teeth, then looked up, straight at Adrian. Fury boiled behind his eyes.

But Astrid wasn’t looking at Adrian.

Astrid’s gaze was glued to the Ghosthound, then she finally tore her gaze to Adrian

"You," she said, her voice low. Disbelief. Regret. Horror. "You were the one behind all of this from the very beginning...." Her eyes narrowed, the truth unraveling in front of her. "You’re his sister. Of course. Of course, goddess, I should’ve seen it. The resemblance."

She took a slow step forward, shaking her head bitterly. "I was a fool not to have figured it out."

But the moment her voice reached Aveline’s ears, domething snapped.

The Ghosthound’s body jerked, her silver eyes burning brighter as her lips twisted into a snarl of pure rage.

It was her.

One of the people who kept her locked up.

The one who stood behind the glass with a clipboard in hand while they pumped poison into her veins.

The one who watched her scream and shiver and bleed and wrote notes.

Astrid Voss.

Aveline’s hands clenched, the faintest tremble in her fingers before she let out a low, guttural sound that wasn’t quite a growl, but wasn’t human either.

"Aveline, wait," Adrian hissed beside her, grabbing her arm.

She didn’t wait.

She lurched forward like a missile of flesh and fury, a blur of power as she charged at Astrid with every ounce of rage she’d buried for years.

"Aveline!" Adrian shouted.

But she didn’t listen.

Before Aveline could reach her, Magnus Thorn launched into action, superspeeding in a heartbeat and shoving Astrid out of the way. The two directors hit the ground hard, Astrid gasping for breath from the impact.

Aveline skidded to a halt, her eyes blazing. Her lips curled back.

"FIGHT ME!!!" she screamed.

The sound wasn’t just loud.

It was power.

A sonic force of sheer fury blasted through the auditorium.

The floors cracked.

Windows shattered.

Students stumbled, covering their ears.

Astrid and Magnus were thrown backward like rag dolls, slammed into the far walls of the auditorium with a force that made the very foundations of the building tremble.

Gasps and cries broke out across the auditorium as the directors crumpled to the ground.

But they weren’t down for long.

Bloodied, bruised, but they were rising.

Magnus Thorn wiped blood from the side of his mouth, his eyes beginning to glow red

Astrid Voss stepped forward, her usually pristine hair now messy, her black coat torn, eyes narrowed with steel resolve.

They stood side by side now.

Ready.

The Ghosthound wanted a fight?

She was about to get one.