I was chilling on my bed trying to put my paranoia away when Naomi asks me to follow her for a bonfire. I didn't want to go but Naomi has her way with words and convincing people to do things. Plus she has already warmed her way into my heart and I can't say no to her.

Outside, the air is crisp and cool, filled with the scent of pine needles and faint smoke. Naomi loops her arm through mine as if she’s physically dragging me toward my own execution.

“Come on, Sienna. Don’t look like you’re walking into a funeral,” she teases, her dark curls bouncing as she pulls me along the winding path toward the glow ahead.

“It feels like one,” I mutter under my breath. “I didn’t sign up for… whatever this is.”

“You did when you became my roommate,” she grins mischievously. “Bonfire parties are mandatory. It’s Eldergate tradition.”

I tug my arm back, slowing my pace. We walk between the trees until it open into a clearing alive with movement and light. Lanterns and glowing charms float between branches like captured stars, casting everyone’s faces in a shifting golden haze. High life music is playing from a speaker hidden somewhere, the bass pulsing in my chest. Students are dancing around the flames, some are holding red cups, while others are shouting as they egg on a group of people climbing the trunk of an oak tree for some dare.

“Tradition or not, I don’t fit in,” I say tightly. My fingers curl around the strap of my jacket to steady myself.

Naomi groans dramatically. “Sienna, you’ve been here for a week. A week. And I’ve already noticed that you do two things: go to class and hide in our room. That’s it. Tonight, you are talking to people, eating burnt marshmallows, and maybe even dancing.”

“Dancing?” I shout, shooting her a sharp look.

She smirks. “Okay, fine. Maybe not dancing. But at least existing.”

I let out a heavy sigh, scanning the crowd. Sparks float up from the bonfire, bright against the night. Everyone seems at ease, laughing too loudly, moving too freely and I envy them. They are not like me. They lack secrets.

No one here has a wolf clawing beneath their skin. No one here spends every day terrified that one slip, one flash of golden eyes or one surge of strength will ruin everything.

“Fine,” I mutter. “But if something happens—”

“Nothing will happen,” Naomi cuts in firmly. “You’re fine. There is nothing wrong with you. You’re just… you.”

Her words sound simple, but they twist in my chest. If only she knew what “just me” really meant maybe she wouldn't be so friendly.

We go closer to the fire, and a guy with a guitar slung across his back nods at Naomi. “Naomi! I thought you’d bail.”

“As if,” she laughs, then nudges me. “This is my roommate, Sienna.”

He offers me a lopsided grin. “Cool name. You sing?”

I blink. “No?”

“Shame.” He shrugs and turns back to a group of laughing girls.

Naomi mutters under her breath, “Don’t mind Luke. He flirts with everything, including oxygen if it breathes near him.”

I almost laugh as the tension in my chest eased for a beat.

We weave through the crowd, and I notice people in pairs scattered around the fire, leaning too close and whispering. For a second, my chest aches—my biological parents used to sit like that, heads bent, lost in their own world. Before it all shattered. My mother died and years later my father died to leaving me in the mercy of my stepmother's voice until all I knew was her voice.

“Stop brooding,” Naomi says suddenly, snapping me out of it.

“I’m not brooding.”

“You are. I can hear it. Heavy sighs, faraway eyes, the whole tragic heroine thing. People are going to think you’re writing poetry about the flames or something.”

“Maybe I am,” I say dryly.

She laughs. “See? That’s the spirit.”

We find a spot near the logs circling the fire. Naomi grabs two cups from a passing guy and hands me one.

I stare into the cup suspiciously. “What’s in this?”

“Juice.”

“Really?”

“Well… mostly juice.”

I sniff it, catching a burn that definitely isn’t fruit. “Naomi.”

“Oh, relax. One sip won’t kill you.”

I don’t drink it. I hold it in both hands like it's a prop, pretending I belong.

The games begin soon after. Someone shouts, “Truth or dare!” and the group roars approval. A circle forms, people begin chanting names, daring each other to ridiculous stunts—jump over the fire pit, kiss a stranger, chug something questionable.

I shrink back, hoping to stay invisible. Naomi, of course, throws herself into the circle, daring someone to eat three marshmallows still on fire. She howls with laughter when the guy nearly burns his tongue.

I watch silent, my stomach coiling. The energy of the crowd is dangerous and unpredictable. It reminds me of wolves circling a prey and waiting for weakness.

“Why so serious?” The voice startles me. I glance up to see a tall guy with messy blond hair and sharp eyes watching me. He’s leaning against a tree, with a smirk tugging his lips.

“Just… not my thing,” I say quickly.

“Parties?”

“People.”

He laughs, low and amused. “You’ll get eaten alive here if you keep hiding like that.”

I bristle. “I’m not hiding.”

“Sure,” he says, unconvinced, before strolling back into the circle.

Naomi returns to me, flushed with laughter. “You okay?”

“I'm fine,” I lie.

But my wolf stirs beneath my skin, restless. The crowd’s energy, the fire, the noise, everything is to much for me. I try to ground myself, focusing on the cool metal of my bracelet, the one thing that always steadies me.

Until the dares escalate. Someone strips naked to jump into the freezing lake. Another has to howl like a wolf in the middle of the clearing. Everyone laughs, clapping and chanting. The sound of that howl makes my pulse race. My wolf rises, curious, pushing against my control.

“Easy,” I whisper to myself.

Naomi frowns. “What?”

“Nothing.” I said quickly shaking my head. But then the circle shifts, and I realize that some pairs of eyes are on me.

Too late.

“The quiet girl!” someone shouts.

“The new one!”

“Yeah, let’s see what she’s got!”

My chest tightens but naomi immediately waves them off. “She’s not—”

She tried to stop them but they don't listen. The crowd is already chanting. Their voices are merging with the sound of the music and the sparkling of fire. “New girl! New girl! New girl!”

A senior steps forward, his grin sharp as a blade. His presence silences the group instantly, which tells me he’s someone important—or dangerous. Maybe both.

He studies me like I’m prey. “Let’s see what the new girl’s made of.”