DAISY

Campus feels different without Iris.

The air smells like burnt coffee and anxiety, and for the hundredth time this week I catch myself looking over my shoulder, expecting her to be there, matching my pace, talking about how she “accidentally” stayed up until 3 a.m. again.

But she isn’t.

She’s hundreds of miles away in some mystical fortress full of Lycans and destiny and fated mates. And I’m here, slogging through another day of lectures, caffeine, and mild existential dread.

My boots scuff against the pavement as I head to class, backpack swinging. “You’d hate this,” I mutter to no one, picturing Iris’s unimpressed face. “Same professor, same boring...