Arthur leaned lazily against the edge of a jagged rock in the northern quadrant of the frozen forest. His arms were folded behind his head, eyes shut, expression peaceful as though asleep. Above him, Alpha lay sprawled across the wide, flat surface of the stone, his sleek, silvery fur catching glints of morning sunlight. His tail flicked rhythmically, betraying the boredom neither of them dared admit.
They had been bickering for a while now.
"So let me get this straight," Arthur drawled, eyes closed, chin tilted up. "You're telling me you could've snapped my neck ten different ways but didn't because… what? You were feeling generous?"
Alpha let out a huff, his voice dry as frost. "No. I just didn't feel like getting your blood on my fur. It smells like disappointment and poor life choices."
Arthur cracked a grin. "Bold words for someone who literally tried to gnaw my face off two days ago."
Alpha huffed in response.
"You know, for someone with such sharp instincts, you're surprisingly slow sometimes," Arthur said without opening his eyes.
"And for someone with such a fragile ego, you're surprisingly smug," Alpha shot back, his voice deep and indifferent.
"Smug? I'm just correct. There's a difference."
Alpha snorted. "Keep telling yourself that, twiglet."
The silence between them stretched, warm and companionable in its own twisted way. Birds chirped faintly in the canopy above, the rustle of the trees whispering tales of old magic. There was no need to speak again, but neither could resist the urge to one-up the other.
"Still, when you nearly bit me" Arthur mused, "what was that? A nibble?"
Alpha curled his lip. "No. That was restraint. If I wanted you dead, you'd be in tiny scattered pieces right now."
"Charming."
Then suddenly, Alpha's posture changed. His body stiffened. Ears shot up. A flicker of something dark and sharp crossed his eyes.
Arthur sensed it too. Not with sight or sound, but something deeper—a ripple through the connection they shared.
He opened his eyes slowly. "What is it?"
Alpha didn't answer. His gaze was locked forward.
A group of students was walking down a nearby path. At their helm was a tall man with ember-colored eyes, a trimmed beard, and the regal posture of someone who knew how to command.
Professor Ignatius.
Alpha sat up on the rock, not moving.
Ignatius glanced in their direction. He stopped. For just a heartbeat, his expression froze, recognition flickering in his eyes.
Then just as quickly, he turned away and quickened his pace, leading his students down the path as if nothing had happened.
Arthur blinked. "Okay... what was that?"
Alpha leapt off the rock and landed beside him, his voice a notch quieter. "That was Ignatius."
"Yeah. I gathered."
"No. That man... was my bond. My first. The one who abandoned me."
Arthur's brow furrowed. "Wait... what?"
Alpha stared at the path where Ignatius had gone. "He left me. During a mission. Left me bleeding and broken. I never saw him again until now."
Arthur didn't know what to say. So he said the only thing he could think of.
"That sucks."
Alpha gave a bitter laugh. "Understatement of the century."
∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆
A couple of hours later, Arthur was walking alone through the main corridor of the eastern wing, hands shoved deep in his coat pockets. He was still mulling over Alpha's words, unsure what to do with the ache he had felt through their bond.
He turned a corner and suddenly found himself staring at three students heading his way.
Micah. Vivienne. Dorian.
All three were his cousins, but he barely had any real connection with them beyond shared blood.
Micah, in his year—third year—was stomping forward, his face twisted in fury. Vivienne, the elegant fifth year, trailed behind him with arms crossed and a curious smirk on her lips. Dorian, the confident and ever-smirking seventh year, brought up the rear, eyes half-lidded with amusement.
Micah didn't slow down. He marched straight to Arthur and jabbed a finger into his chest.
"You!"
Arthur blinked. "What?"
"You owe me."
"For what?!"
"You didn't warn me she was allergic!"
Arthur stared, utterly lost. "Who?"
"Calla!"
Arthur blinked again. "...Who is that?"
Micah sputtered. "My— you know—she's—she's my crush!"
Arthur tilted his head, confused. "Okay. And for the last time, what's a crush?"
That made all three of them stop.
Vivienne narrowed her eyes. "You're joking."
"I'm not," Arthur replied honestly.
Micah threw up his hands. "He still doesn't know what a crush is!"
Dorian whistled low. "Oh boy. Definitely broken."
Arthur frowned, growing irritated. "Explain."
Vivienne stepped forward, her tone amused. "A crush is when you like someone. Romantically. Emotionally."
"Emotionally?" Arthur shook his head. "Yeah, I don't feel that. I don't think I ever have."
Micah groaned. "Anyway. I tried to impress Calla in Herbology by giving her a rare plant. Only it turned out to be poison ivy. She's now in the infirmary."
"How is that my fault?"
"Because you were sitting next to me and said it looked cool!"
Arthur shrugged. "It did look cool."
Vivienne snorted. Dorian laughed openly. The tension broke, and the four of them walked together toward the lunch hall, trading barbs.
Micah grumbled. "Just... stay out of my love life."
"I don't understand it enough to be in it," Arthur replied calmly.
∆∆∆
After lunch, Micah grabbed Arthur by the arm and dragged him through the west wing.
"Where are we going?"
"Beast Bonding 301. You're in my class now, remember?"
"Why 301? I already did 101 and 201."
"You're a transfer, genius. Professor Hennessy said you're doing all of them."
"Same professor?"
"Yep. Same dry sarcasm. New level of danger."
They stepped into the large, domed room where magical creatures were sometimes allowed to roam freely. Professor Hennessy stood at the front, brushing feathers off her shoulders as if this was a regular Tuesday.
"Welcome, everyone," she said, not bothering to look up. "Today, we explore resonance with non-communicative creatures. Or, if you prefer, how to connect with bonds that don't like you."
Arthur sighed and took his seat.
In his head, Alpha's voice echoed smugly.
"Try not to fail too hard, twiglet."
Arthur smirked faintly.
He still didn't understand what it meant to have a crush. He still wasn't sure what Ignatius meant to Alpha. But for the first time, he felt like he was starting to unravel something deeper—about the people around him, and maybe, eventually, himself.
∆∆∆∆∆∆∆
Professor Hennessy's boots echoed as she walked a slow, measured path across the classroom's sparring grounds. The air shimmered with tension — magic lingered in the domed room like static. Above, illusion runes formed the scene: a battlefield that kept shifting, introducing obstacles and surprises to mimic real-world stress.
She turned, arms behind her back.
"Coordination under pressure is more telling than raw talent," she began, her voice cool and sharp. "Many of you excel individually — but a warrior without harmony with their Bond is as useful as a blade without a hilt."
She turned toward the class.
"This exercise will not be judged by how many illusions you strike down or how flashy your magic looks. It will be judged by synergy. Trust. How well you operate together."
There were murmurs. Nervous glances. Some Bonds growled softly or shifted uneasily.
"First pair: Ellin and Brum."
A lithe girl with violet eyes stepped forward. Beside her, a metallic falcon-like creature launched into the air with a shriek. They performed well — swift aerial attacks, ground support, efficient movement.
"Next. Mira and Than."
A bulkier boy with runes burned onto his arms strode forward. A spiny, bear-like Bond moved with him. They stumbled a few times — a mistimed leap here, a missed cue there — but overall, acceptable.
"Ester and Cael. Quinn and Jaro. Nalya and Ilreth..."
The names went on. One after the other, students entered the trial — some succeeded smoothly, others flailed and recovered, some barely made it through.
And all the while, Arthur Reeves stood near the edge of the arena. Hands in his pockets. A cold glint in his eyes.
Towering beside him was Alpha — a massive white-furred wolf, broad as a carriage, with thick fur that shimmered like fresh snow under moonlight. His ice-blue eyes stared straight ahead. Silent. Still. He hadn't moved since the class began.
Arthur leaned closer, murmuring under his breath.
"Okay, we go left first, take out the ranged ones. I'll boost the defense. You circle the edge. When I give the signal—"
Alpha didn't even blink.
Arthur scowled. "Hey. Did you hear me?"
No reply.
"You're seriously ignoring me again? This isn't the time."
Still nothing. Not even a twitch of the ear.
Arthur stepped in front of him.
"Alpha."
Silence.
A few students noticed. Some were whispering now. Watching.
"Seriously? After everything last week? You're really going to do this here?"
Alpha licked a paw. Slowly. Deliberately.
Arthur's jaw clenched.
Across the arena, Professor Hennessy called out calmly, "Arthur Reeves. And your bond."
He stiffened.
Alpha remained still.
"Your turn," she said, voice like glass.
Arthur took one step forward — Alpha didn't move. He turned and hissed, "Let's go, dammit!"
With a low growl, Alpha finally pushed off the ground and followed, his heavy steps slow and unhurried — not respectful, not synced, just… present.
The arena shimmered again. A maze-like terrain appeared — walls of stone, shifting traps, fast-moving illusions with glowing blades.
Arthur surged forward, then headed left.
Alpha went the other way.
"Seriously?" Arthur snapped. "What are you doing?! Come back!"
Alpha didn't answer. He bounded over a ridge, silent and fluid. He struck one illusion — perfectly — but ignored the other two bearing down on Arthur.
"Alpha!"
No response.
Arthur cursed, deflecting one with a stunning spell. The second clipped his side. His shoulder lit up with a magical burn. He stumbled. A trap rune under his feet exploded, sending him tumbling back.
Still, Alpha didn't react.
Instead, the massive wolf turned and began pacing around the outer edge, like a predator inspecting prey.
Arthur dragged himself up, glaring at him.
"I told you to follow my plan! Are you doing this on purpose? You trying to humiliate me now?"
"Your plan was arrogant," Alpha finally said, voice like distant thunder. "You assumed control. You did not ask. You ordered."
Arthur raised a hand to cast again — Alpha was suddenly beside him, a wall of white fur and teeth, eyes flashing.
"Don't you dare," Alpha growled.
The magical enemy darted in again — Arthur blasted it in panic, the spell ricocheting awkwardly and exploding against a wall. Alpha didn't even flinch.
Professor Hennessy's voice cut through the chaos.
"That will be enough."
Arthur looked up, breath heavy, sweat beading on his forehead.
She was watching, arms folded, unreadable.
"You may leave the arena."
Arthur opened his mouth, then closed it. He walked stiffly back to the side, cheeks burning. Alpha padded beside him — not behind, not beside… just near.
The arena was quiet.
Hennessy finally said, "In case it wasn't obvious — power without humility is not a partnership. It's a battle. And you already lost."
Arthur sat down. Alpha lay beside him, eyes closed. Not a single glance exchanged between them.
And the class moved on.
Arthur Reeves didn't sit with the rest of the students. He leaned against a far pillar, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
Behind him, a cluster of third-years snickered.
"They call that a Bond?"
"Looks more like the wolf's his babysitter."
"Or his handler."
"Maybe if Reeves wasn't such an insufferable ass, the wolf would actually listen to him."
Arthur didn't flinch. He didn't even turn.
Their words were needles dulled by habit. He'd heard worse — in hallways, in whispered detentions, in the silence of his own Bond.
Alpha lay sprawled beside the pillar, thick white fur catching the magical torchlight. His massive chest rose and fell with a calmness that mocked everything Arthur was feeling.
Arthur's eyes weren't on the mockers — they were on the field.
Micah was up now. Micah moved like a current — never too fast, never too slow. His bond, a glimmering fox with streaks of golden fur, mirrored his motions with grace.
Arthur's jaw twitched.
He didn't envy them.
But he did notice.
He noticed the way Hennessy nodded slightly. The way the crowd of students murmured — impressed, admiring. He watched as even the Bonds on the sidelines leaned forward, watching. Like they could feel the harmony pulsing through the air.
Arthur let out a breath through his nose, folding his arms tighter.
"Pretty show ponies," he muttered.
Alpha didn't respond. But his tail flicked once, a slow swish across the floor.
Behind Arthur, the group of taunting students kept up their hushed jokes, but it was almost out of habit now. They'd hoped to spark a reaction. Nothing came. And eventually, they lost interest.
But what Arthur didn't notice — what no one noticed, not even Alpha — was the quiet transformation creeping into his reflection.
His hair, once raven-black and sleek, now bore thin strands of silver-grey near the temples. At first glance, they might've looked like light catching on moisture.
But they stayed.
Faint. Cold. Growing.
It wasn't from stress.
It was the cost.
The cost of shutting out emotion. Of forcing his will on a Bond designed for balance, not obedience.
And somewhere, just under his skin, something darker stirred.
∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆
The hallway outside the arena was unusually quiet.
Most students were still inside, listening to Professor Hennessy's final comments. The air here was cool, tinged with something that clung to the walls—like old secrets whispered too long.
Arthur didn't like that feeling.
He reached up, ran a hand through his hair, and felt—
A tingle. A chill.
He paused.
Before he could examine it further, a voice cut in sharply.
"You didn't notice?"
Arthur turned. Evelyne stood across from him, arms folded, eyes narrowed.
"Notice what?" he said coolly.
She stepped forward. No smirk. No sass. Just quiet, unnerving focus.
"Your hair." She reached up and plucked a lock of it free, holding it to the light.
The strand shimmered with a faint grey-silver hue. At first glance it looked like silver thread—but the more he stared, the more it looked… wrong. Cold. Brittle. Unnatural.
"This isn't stress," Evelyne said, voice low. "This is magical decay."
Arthur snorted. "Dramatic."
"You think I'm joking?" Her tone didn't change. "You're not phased by it. Which means this isn't the first time."
Arthur looked away, jaw tightening.
Evelyne didn't back off. "My grandmother's journals mention this," she went on. "She was a Seer. Used to say, 'The dark consumes you from within when you deny your heart.' Said the first sign was silvering—when magic tries to keep flowing but the body starts rejecting it. Because the soul is out of tune."
"That's poetic," Arthur muttered, but his hand was already rising again. Fingers threaded through his hair—
And this time, frost crackled along his fingertips.
He pulled back, eyes narrowing.
It vanished a moment later. Gone. As if it hadn't happened.
Evelyne stepped beside him, her voice quieter now. "You can't keep resisting him. Yourself. You and Alpha aren't just strangers. You're in conflict."
Arthur said nothing.
"You keep this up," she said, "and it won't be your hair turning grey."
He didn't reply. But for the first time in days, he looked… unsettled.
As she turned to walk away, Evelyne added without turning back:
"Maybe you should figure out what you're fighting so hard to keep buried. Before it buries you."
Arthur watched Evelyne disappear around the corner, her braid swaying like punctuation to her final sentence. The echo of her words lingered—sharper than they had any right to be.
He blew out a breath, then muttered under it, "What's her deal?"
"The trials of romance," came a low, lazy rumble beside him.
Arthur flinched. "What?"
Alpha stretched out beside him, massive head lowered, ears flicking as if chasing away gnats of irritation. He hadn't made a sound the entire time Evelyne was speaking—just sat there like a marble statue with fur. Now he was talking?
"Love's first snow always burns." Alpha huffed, as if quoting ancient poetry. "She is the ember to your frost. It's rather poetic, really."
Arthur frowned. "You're insane."
"You're in denial."
Arthur blinked. "Excuse me?"
Alpha finally looked at him—those massive eyes too old for the hallway they were in. "She sees you. Not what you pretend to be. That scares you more than me."
"Stop talking in riddles."
"Stop living in one."
That shut him up.
A long silence stretched between them. Someone inside the arena laughed distantly, the sound hollow and light-years away from the cold, creeping weight in Arthur's chest.
He didn't say anything else—not to Alpha, not to the flicker of frost still clinging to his fingers in memory. But as they turned and walked down the corridor, his steps felt heavier.
And Alpha—well, he padded silently beside him, massive and spectral, like a ghost that had chosen to haunt him long before their bond ever formed.
Arthur's boots echoed against the stone floor. Alpha kept pace beside him in eerie silence.
Then:
"You felt something."
Arthur didn't look at him. "I felt frost on my fingertips."
Alpha rumbled softly. "Not what I meant."
A long pause.
Arthur exhaled slowly. "I don't… feel things the way you seem to think I do."
Alpha tilted his great head. "Explain."
Arthur's expression remained blank. Then, with a slight shrug, he said, "There are things I understand—fear, strategy, instinct. Anger. Duty. But… affection? Love? Attraction?" He shook his head faintly. "Those are just words people invented to explain poor decisions."
Alpha chuckled. A strange, deep sound—like distant thunder cracking across snow.
"You truly don't know, do you?"
Arthur shot him a glance. "Know what?"
"The ache. The flutter. The chaos." Alpha looked ahead. "The moment when your body reacts before your mind can catch up. When your magic pulls toward someone like the tide to the moon."
Arthur blinked once. Twice.
Alpha continued, unbothered. "You don't recognize it because you've never had to. You've buried your heart under cold logic so long, it forgot how to beat."
Arthur muttered, "You're a wolf. What do you know about hearts?"
"I am your bond," Alpha said, and this time, the voice was lower, heavier. "I feel everything you won't allow yourself to name."
Arthur flinched, almost imperceptibly.
They walked in silence after that, but Arthur's mind buzzed.
Not with understanding.
But with questions.
And at the very end of the hallway, before the light faded into stairwell shadow, Alpha said quietly—
"You will learn, Reeves. The heart is the battlefield no blade can win."
Arthur didn't respond.
He didn't have the words.
He never had.