I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.
Patréon.com/emperordragon
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Morning always seemed to come too quickly, but today it felt especially abrupt—like I had blinked and the night had vanished. I awoke with the sunlight filtering through my curtains in faint streaks, warm enough to nudge me out of my dreams but not harsh enough to burn. But my body felt strangely refreshed, the kind of rare rest that made every muscle feel lighter.
By the time I was dressed and sliding into the driver's seat of my car, the day had already begun to settle into that steady rhythm I had grown used to. Jenny sat in the passenger seat beside me, her legs curled onto the seat in a way that suggested complete comfort, her phone already in her hands before I even backed out of the driveway. She hummed softly under her breath, half a tune I didn't recognize, the kind of effortless background noise that filled the silence without demanding attention.
The drive to Beacon Hills High was ordinary, but in the little bubble of that ride, I found a welcome calm. My thoughts were clearer than they had been in days. Just the steady hum of the engine, Jenny's voice weaving around the music from the radio, and the occasional vibration of her phone as she sent message after message. Each mile closer to the school, she grew more animated, her thumbs flying across the screen with practiced ease. I didn't even need to glance over to know she was already filling her friends in on their plans, diving headfirst into the endless chatter that defined her mornings.
When I finally pulled into the lot, Jenny spotted her group instantly. Her whole posture shifted—the quiet hum was replaced with sudden kinetic energy, her excitement sparking like static in the confined space of the car. Before I could even switch off the engine, she had the door open, practically bouncing out of her seat.
"See you later," she called out, not waiting for my reply before vanishing into the swarm of students.
I sighed, pulled the car into a proper spot, and grabbed the tray of coffee cups sitting on the console.
Crossing the courtyard, I spotted them instantly—Malia sitting casually like nothing was wrong, and Isaac slouched back in his chair like the sun was too bright, even with the ridiculous black sunglasses covering half his face. His shoulders sagged, his whole body screaming exhaustion.
I set the cups down in front of them. "Morning," I said.
Malia wasted no time, grabbing hers like it was a lifeline. Isaac moved slower, carefully peeling the lid back and sniffing like he wasn't sure if his stomach could handle it.
Once both had their cups, I sat down across from them and asked, "So, how was last night?"
Malia answered first, voice even and matter-of-fact. "Isaac ran. A lot. Pretty much the whole night, actually. But he wasn't completely gone—he still had some awareness. Every time he got near a house or a road, he turned around."
She glanced at Isaac, then added, "He ended up catching a raccoon. Ate it raw. Then finally passed out sometime after that. I found him and brought him back to his place."
Isaac let out a low groan and took a long drink of his coffee, like he was trying to wash the memory out of his system. "I remember… bits and pieces," he mumbled, his voice scratchy and worn. "It was like I was dreaming. Everything felt out of focus. And now I feel like I've got the worst hangover of my life."
Malia didn't answer. She just gave him a slow, knowing nod. I recognized the look in her eyes—recognition. Sympathy. She remembered what it was like to be new to all of this, to wake up after a night under the full moon feeling like your body had betrayed you.
I leaned back slightly, letting my fingers drum quietly against the paper coffee cup in my hands.
"That's because passing out isn't the same as sleeping," I told him. "Your body was up all night, fighting itself. You spent hours battling for control, and that kind of struggle drains you."
Isaac ran a hand down his face, the sunglasses shifting slightly as he did. He let out another deep breath, this one laced with reluctant understanding. "Is it always this bad?" he asked, not quite directing the question at anyone in particular.
I shrugged slightly. "Wouldn't know," I said honestly. "I never had trouble with the shift."
He paused, then turned his head toward me, lowering his hand. I could feel the weight of his stare even through the shades.
"I hate you," he muttered flatly.
I couldn't help it—I laughed. The sound escaped before I could stop it, short and surprised. He didn't mean it—if anything, it was a compliment wrapped in frustration.
Malia smirked behind her cup, not bothering to hide her amusement. "Don't listen to him," she said with a raised brow. "He's just a freak of nature."
I let out another quiet chuckle, shaking my head. But as I looked at the two of them—sitting side by side, trading jabs—I realised something.
They were starting to click.
Not perfectly, not smoothly. But something was forming between them—something that looked an awful lot like a real friendship. Built on sarcasm, sure, and mutual exhaustion, but there was a comfort in it. A familiarity, even if it was still new.
Isaac exhaled heavily, resting his forehead against his palm. "I'm starting to hate full moons already."
Malia reached over and nudged his arm. "You did really well last night. Your next full moon will be much better."
He nodded, slow but genuine, and finished off what was left in his cup.
The bell rang, slicing through the courtyard noise. The three of us stood, moving toward the school entrance together. For a brief second, walking between them, I thought about what we must look like from the outside—three kids carrying their own baggage, blending into the crowd like we weren't any different.