CHAPTER 57: _ AWAKENING CEREMONY (NEW DEVELOPMENT )

Daphne nearly chokes on her own ire.

She leans forward from her spot beside her brothers, fingers curling around the edge of the bench in front of her as if the wood itself might give her strength. Her lips form furious shapes. She mouths words that carry venom even though no sound comes out:

"Stand. Up. Now."

Her hand even makes the motion, flapping upward like she’s some kind of royal issuing orders to a lowly servant. And that’s the moment—the glorious, golden moment for Heidi to put Daphne in her place.

All morning, she has let the girl talk down at her. Let her make those sharp little comments, those cutting observations about how Heidi doesn’t fit, doesn’t belong, doesn’t measure up to their world of glossy perfection. Daphne has been relentless, and Heidi, who is tired and overwhelmed has taken it.

But not this midnoon.

Not when the Bellamys are already fuming across the aisle with eyes narrowing every time Lucan leans just slightly closer. Not when Heidi has already been thrown headfirst into a spotlight she never asked for.

So she does the unthinkable.

She meets Daphne’s furious eyes and smiles. She does it in the tiniest tug of her lips upward. And then, as Daphne repeats the motion of telling her to "get up," Heidi tilts her head to the side and gives her a look so dripping with sarcastic dismissal it could power an entire pack.

Her eyebrows rise. Her eyelids run up and down. Her lips mouth back, not words but the universal sign of "Shut. up," which is a palm slicing across the air in front of her throat. Heidi has to make it subtle because she can’t afford to constitute a nuisance here, but Daphne gets the message.

The satisfaction that rolls through Heidi’s chest is like fire and honey all at once. So freaking delicious.

Across the aisle, Daphne’s jaw unhinges. Her face flushes red as if Heidi has slapped her across it. She sputters silently, lips moving without forming anything coherent, and her brothers don’t even glance at her because they are too busy drilling holes into Heidi with the weight of their glares.

And oh, those glares.

Darien, Amias, Grayson, Morgan... each one looks like he’s been forced to watch someone graffiti their family crest in neon paint. They’re stiff, rigid, royal in posture but feral in expression, as if the NAY boys have stolen a treasure right out from under their noses and Heidi is the sparkling crown jewel of the theft.

Heidi feels their anger like heat against her skin. It should terrify her. It should make her shrink, hide, apologize. Instead...she feels wicked. She feels bold.

She adjusts in her seat beside Lucan, folds her hands sweetly in her lap, and lets the corners of her mouth twitch upward in a barely-there smile. If looks could kill, the Bellamy brothers would have murdered her ten times already.

Meanwhile, the Headmaster clears his throat at the podium. He hasn’t noticed the silent civil war exploding between rows. His voice booms through the hall as he addresses the Moon Blessed now.

"You must have noticed that everyone calls you Omegas." He folds his arms behind him.

A ripple of whispers flows through the hall. Some juniors shift uncomfortably. Others sit taller, as if bracing themselves.

The Headmaster continues, "That is because you do not yet have awakened wolves. You are not yet whole. But after this ceremony, you will no longer be Omegas. You will be, officially, werewolves."

Heidi stiffens. She knew this, of course. Everyone did. But hearing it said aloud, so final and echoing in this cavernous hall, makes her heart pound.

The Headmaster sweeps his gaze across them, pausing theatrically. "At the end of this night...or perhaps the next...you will discover who among you carries the most powerful wolves. And who...does not."

The way he says "does not" drips like poison. The implication of not carrying a powerful wolf is palpable even as it is not yet mentioned. The hair behind Heidi’s neck stands at the end as Grayson’s words hunt her yet again: weak, low-level wolf, and ability.

She hopes not. Really, really, hope not.

The headmaster smiles as he goes on with his speech anyway. "Because make no mistake... strength varies. Some of you will be blessed with wolves that bring you victory, respect, and leadership. Others will be cursed with weak wolves that bring only shame and humiliation. Such is the will of the Moon Goddess. Such has always been our way."

The words sink into the crowd like stones into water. Gasps, whispers, and laughter from some of the older students ripple outward. A few seniors twist around in their seats, already whispering about which unlucky ones they hope to "humiliate first."

From the corner, a sharp, authoritative bark cuts through the noise:

"Order!"

The disciplinarian rises from his place by the wall. He’s a broad-shouldered man in dark suits, and a glare that could freeze lava. This is Master Corvin, the school’s dreaded enforcer. Every student snaps back to silence at once.

Corvin’s voice is thunder. "Show respect. Or I’ll have you cleaning the toilets with your tongues."

A few nervous chuckles break the tension, but silence settles again.

The Headmaster nods to Corvin in thanks before pressing on. "This ceremony will not be like those of the past. The Moon Blessed are a new phenomenon, and so we must be careful. We must study them and must not make mistakes. Therefore, this awakening ceremony will not take place in one day as the previous years but in over two...perhaps three nights, depending on the moon as we have tasks prepared specially for them to fully understand how they are all wired."

How they are all wired like they are some robots they plan on opening up to find their cores, Heidi scoffs internally.

Murmurs stir again, but this time excitement runs through them. Older students grin at one another. Someone cheers from the back, "Sounds like camping!" and a wave of laughter follows.

Heidi’s chest tightens. Three nights. Three whole nights under the constant shadow of the Bellamys, under the relentless pressure of whatever this school considers "tradition." She can practically feel the weight of it already pressing against her ribs.

Beside her, the NAY boys lean together, whispering and grinning like they’re plotting mischief. Lucan nudges her shoulder with his as if to reassure her: We’ve got this.