The Lunar Crest Academy: Marked by The Lycans
Chapter 35: Adrian’s Truth

Chapter 35: Chapter 35: Adrian’s Truth

I followed him to the edge of the training field, he was half-slumped against a wall like he was trying to disappear into the stone. His shirt was torn, caked in blood, and his usual neat blonde hair was a tangled mess crusted with dried crimson. But it wasn’t the physical damage that stilled my steps, it was the hollowness in his eyes.

Adrian Vale wasn’t smiling.

He didn’t even look up as I approached. I stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say. This was the boy who always found me with that lazy grin, the one who cracked jokes I pretended not to laugh at. The one who annoyed me into smiling. Now, he looked like a ghost of of himself.

"Adrian," I said softly.

He stiffened.

"Hey... I just wanted to say—"

"I’m fine," he said quickly, voice clipped. "You don’t need to check on me."

That caught me off guard. He didn’t even look at me. Just kept staring ahead like I wasn’t there. It was strange. Usually, it was the other way around, him chasing me down with some ridiculous story, some sarcastic line, and me brushing him off. Now I was the one trying, and he wanted nothing to do with me.

"You saved me," I said, refusing to back off. "When Selene had me. You came for me."

He shook his head. "Don’t read into it."

"Adrian, look at me."

He didn’t.

So I stepped closer and grabbed his arm, gently, careful of his injuries, but firm enough that he had no choice. His skin was cold. Too cold.

"You’re hurt. Sit," I said, guiding him toward the base of the wall.

Surprisingly, he let me. I helped him lower himself down, then sat beside him, the silence between us thick with unsaid things.

"Why?" I asked finally, my voice barely above a whisper. "Why would you fight an Elite for me?"

Adrian turned his head, finally looking at me. His eyes were dull, bloodshot, tired in a way that had nothing to do with physical pain.

"Because," he said slowly, "you remind me of someone."

I waited.

"My sister," he said. "Her name was Aveline."

Aveline. The name hit like a forgotten melody, soft, delicate, tragic.

"She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen," he continued. "And you two... you look alike. Not just your faces. The fire. The way you talk back even when you shouldn’t. The way you fight like you’ve got nothing, and still refuse to bow. She was like that too. Powerless. But proud."

His voice broke slightly, and he looked away. "She was all I had."

I noticed it then, the way he spoke. Past tense. Was.

"She’s... she’s gone?" I asked, carefully.

He nodded. "Dead."

A beat passed before he continued.

"People think being a noble means comfort. Power. But not when you’re born from a mistake. My mother... she was the Alpha’s mistress. Nothing more. She died young, left me and Aveline to fend for ourselves. And in that pack, bastards like us were treated worse than ferals."

His hands clenched in his lap.

"They hated us. We were beat for breathing too loud. Starved when others had plenty. And she... she always tried to shield me. Always said she’d get us out of there someday. That things would change."

He swallowed hard.

"Then one day, the Lycan King visited. Ronan Valerius Hunter. The great, feared king of all werewolves. He came to our pack on some inspection tour or whatever the hell they do. And with him..."

He glanced at me.

"Was his son. Kieran."

My chest tightened.

"That day," Adrian said, his voice bitter, "everything changed. From worse... to nothing."

"What happened?" I whispered.

He didn’t answer immediately. Just looked down at the blood on his hands, like the past was painted there and he couldn’t scrub it off.

"That day," he said finally, "was the day my whole world was shattered."

And the way he said it, I knew it was a story drenched in pain. A story that would explain the ghost I now sat beside.

"What happened, Adrian?" I asked, my voice quiet.

He exhaled, long and slow, as if the memory weighed on every breath. His eyes drifted far away, to another time, another world.

"My pack was called Duskridge," he began, voice rough. "It’s one of the oldest noble packs. Obedient. Rigid. Loyal to the throne. When word came that the Lycan King was visiting... the entire territory shifted into panic." _{f .r e\ewebnov(e)(l).c om}

He chuckled bitterly.

"They were already scared of ordinary Lycans, so imagine how they acted when it was him. Ronan Valerius Hunter. The apex predator of our kind. The King of Monsters. He was everything they feared and worshipped."

Adrian’s hands curled slowly into fists.

"My father, the Alpha, made it clear that no mistake would be tolerated. None. We were to be perfect. Silent. Invisible."

"Because Aveline abdand I..." I said gently.

"We were his shame," Adrian nodded. "Bastards born of a mistress. He never acknowledged us. He told everyone we were just ferals taken in out of pity. That day, he had us scrub floors, clean dishes, polish shoes, anything to keep us useful and out of sight. We weren’t to speak. Or breathe too loudly."

My heart twisted in my chest.

"Then the Lycan King arrived. With his entourage. With his son." Adrian’s voice cracked. "Kieran. He must’ve been around fifteen then. Tall already. Sharp. Silent. He didn’t even look at us. None of them did."

He paused, biting down hard on his lip.

"We were serving at the Alpha mansion. Me and Aveline. Holding trays like shadows along the wall. She was nervous, I could tell. Her hands kept shaking, but she smiled through it. She always smiled through everything"

A shadow crossed his face.

"And then... it happened."

"She was serving soup to them. I don’t even know how. Maybe her hand slipped from shaking too much due to fear.... and it spilled."

Adrian’s jaw clenched.

"A few drops. That’s all, a few drops of soup. It splashed on the Prince’s boots. Right there, in front of the whole damn table. Everyone froze."

I could feel it, the suffocating tension. The dread. The world must have stopped spinning.

"She dropped to her knees immediately," Adrian whispered. "Apologizing. Begging. She was trembling so badly, her words barely made it out. But before she could finish her sentence..."

His voice broke.

"One of the royal guards stepped forward. Without a word. No warning. And just..... slashed across her face and chest with his sharp claws. Right there. In front of me."

I gasped, hand flying to my mouth. Adrian didn’t cry. He looked beyond tears, like he’d cried them all long ago.

"She was fourteen, Lorraine," he rasped. "And I didn’t even get to scream before someone backhanded me across the room. They said it was her fault. That she’d disrespected the Lycans. My father didn’t speak. Didn’t flinch. He just... kept his head bowed."

I sat there in stunned silence, tears sliding silently down my cheeks.

"And Kieran?" I asked.

Adrian’s expression twisted into something unreadable.

"He looked at her body," he said. "Then walked away."

My chest caved. I couldn’t even imagine it. The horror. The silence. The blood.

"I buried her behind the servant quarters. Alone," Adrian whispered.

"My sister had died because she spilled soup on the Lycan Prince’s shoes"