Luke Anderson stood on the pavement outside his high school, hands in his pockets, waiting for the bus as the final bell's echo faded into the summer afternoon. The warm city air felt lighter now that exams were over; just a couple of days until summer vacation officially began, but Luke was too restless to feel much relief.
A pair of his classmates brushed past, laughing about plans for the weekend. Luke gave them a faint smile as they passed.
He wasn't a loner exactly, just… not the kind of kid who rushed into crowds.
As he climbed on and scanned the bus, most seats were already taken. Luke grabbed a spot near the back, next to the window, and stared blankly at the rows of brick townhouses passing by outside.
Ever since his fifteenth birthday last week, his body had felt strange, like it was tense all the time. He felt a tingling in his fingertips, a strange hum under his skin. Probably too much energy drink or too little sleep.
That was what he told himself, anyway.
He pulled his backpack closer as the bus lurched forward into midtown traffic.
"Hey, Luke!"
He glanced up to see Jeremy, one of the few people at school he considered a friend, leaning into the aisle.
"You coming to the game tomorrow?" Jeremy grinned.
Luke hesitated.
"Maybe," he answered. "I'll see if my parents have anything going on."
Jeremy shrugged and moved on to someone else. Luke let his gaze wander back to the window.
Parents – that was another thing bothering him. They'd been acting strange all week. They had been whispering in the kitchen, going quiet as soon as he walked into the room. Every time he asked if something was up, they'd smile too quickly and assure him it was fine.
But Luke wasn't convinced.
By the time the bus reached his stop on the Upper East Side, the sun had begun to sink between the high-rises, painting everything a soft gold. Luke hopped off and headed up the sidewalk, past doormen and dog walkers.
The apartment building lobby was quiet and cool, and the elevator smelt faintly of lemon cleaner.
When he unlocked the door, the faint sound of clinking dishes and his mother humming greeted him.
"Hey, Mom," Luke called, toeing off his sneakers by the door.
Freya Thunderpine's voice called from the kitchen, "In here."
Luke dropped his backpack next to the shoe rack and padded inside. The kitchen smelt like garlic and onions, and the light from the big window spilt across the countertop where his mother was slicing vegetables with practiced hands.
Her dark hair was tied back in a braid, and she was humming a soft, wordless tune Luke didn't recognise, one of those gentle melodies that had always calmed him when he was little.
"How was school?" she asked without looking up.
"Same as usual," Luke replied.
He grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water, then leaned against the counter. "Anything exciting happen at work?"
Freya paused mid-chop.
"You could say that," she answered carefully.
"You seem a bit restless," Freya added, glancing at him sideways.
Luke took a sip of water.
"Maybe a little," he admitted. "Just feels weird now that school's basically over."
That wasn't the whole truth.
But what could he say, that his hands felt charged with electricity and that sometimes he thought he heard whispered voices in empty rooms? Even he wasn't sure if that was real or if he was just tired.
Freya nodded, reaching for the stove dial to turn down the heat.
"You'll feel better once summer really begins. A few weeks to relax will do you good."
That was probably true.
Still, Luke sensed there was something she wasn't telling him. The way she kept stealing glances at him made him suspicious.
"Where's Dad?" Luke asked after a moment.
Freya answered, "Still at work."
"Your father had a big meeting today. Some sort of audit at the office." Luke nodded like that made sense, even though he had no idea what his dad's job is. "Audit" was just one of those boring words adults liked to use.
"He'll be home in an hour or so. Why don't you go wash up? Dinner will be ready soon."
He left the kitchen feeling vaguely uneasy.He couldn't say exactly what was wrong, only that things had felt different lately.
Luke paused in the hallway outside his room.
His parents were careful people, usually light-hearted.
But over the past few days, they had exchanged tense looks whenever they thought he was not watching. And each time Luke had asked if something was going on, they had brushed him off with that familiar, practiced smile.
And there was that dream last night.
He frowned, thinking back to strange images of a sky weighed down by heavy clouds and lightning and a dark forest beneath a blood-red moon. Dreams weren't new, but this one had felt so real that he'd woken up with his heart racing and hands trembling.
Luke glanced at his hands now.
"You okay, sweetie?" His mother's voice called softly from the kitchen.
"Yeah," Luke answered quickly, forcing himself to move.
By the time his father, Alexander, finally came home, the apartment glowed warm with lamps and the scent of Freya's cooking.
"Sorry I'm late," Alexander said, rubbing a hand over his face.
He hung up his jacket and gave Freya a kiss on the cheek before tousling Luke's hair.
"Hey, Dad," Luke greeted him.
"You look tired."
Alexander smiled. "Long day" was all he said.
Dinner was mostly quiet. Freya told them about the new farmer's market she'd walked past that morning. Luke nodded along but kept stealing glances at his father, who seemed lost in thought, and at his mother, who looked back at him with a kind of sad pride in her eyes.
Finally, as they cleared the plates, Freya wiped her hands and exchanged a look with Alexander.
She began gently, "Luke, your father and I want to talk to you tonight."
That familiar knot twisted in Luke's stomach.
"You already said that last night," he reminded them.
"And the night before, too."
Freya touched his shoulder. "We mean it this time, okay?" she promised softly.
Luke nodded.
Luke followed his parents into the living room, his hands stuffed into his pockets. The lamps cast warm pools of light across the floor, making the shadows in the corners seem deeper.
Freya gestured for him to sit.
He took a spot on the couch while she perched nearby, and Alexander eased into his chair across from them, rubbing his hands together as if choosing his words carefully.
"You seem a bit on edge," Freya began, her gaze gentle but serious. "And I'm guessing you've noticed that you've been feeling… different lately."
Luke glanced up, brow creasing.
"Kind of," he admitted. "Like I'm hearing things other people don't. Or reacting too fast to stuff."
Freya exchanged a knowing look with Alexander before leaning toward him.
"That's because of me," she said simply. "I'm a werewolf, Luke. Born into a clan that has protected these lands for generations."
Luke blinked at her, heart skipping.
"You're a werewolf?"
Freya nodded. "You mean I'll… turn into one?"
Freya's mouth softened into a small smile.
"No," she assured him. "You won't shift into a wolf like I can. Being my son, you only inherit some of my abilities: heightened senses, strength, and faster reflexes. The wild part of me is in you, but not all of it."
Luke was still processing what his mother was saying.
Suddenly, the strange energy in his hands and the humming awareness at the edge of his thoughts weren't so unexplainable.
"That's why everything's felt so weird," he murmured.
Freya gave him a gentle nod.
"That's right. You're only going to grow into these talents more as you get older. That's why we decided to tell you."
Luke looked at his father then, seeking more answers.
"What about you, Dad? Are you also some kind of an animal?"
Alexander's mouth twitched into an exhausted smile.
"Not quite," he replied. "But my side of the family has a history with magic, and that means you can sense it and use it."
Luke's brow furrowed deeper.
"You mean like a wizard or something?"
"More like a mage," Alexander corrected gently. "And between your mother's gifts and mine, you have a bit more… unusual path."
Luke's hands felt clammy as the weight of their words settled in.
"You mean I'm part werewolf and part mage."
Freya nodded, reaching to squeeze his hand.
"That's exactly what we mean."
His mother's lips quirked.
"That's part of it. Summer holiday is almost here, and we have plans for you."
Luke glanced between them, a flutter of nerves stirring in his chest.
"Plans?"
Alexander exchanged a look with Freya before answering.
"There's a place," his father began slowly. "It's a school for kids like you, supernatural kids, where you can train your abilities and learn about who you really are."
Luke stared at him in disbelief.
"You mean there are more people like me and schools for this kind of stuff?"
Freya's smile was warm but serious.
"Yes. Aurealis Institute, and we want you to go," she said.
'Aurealis'.
For a moment, Luke felt the hum inside him settle down, like part of him had been anticipating this all along.
And as his parents exchanged hopeful glances, Luke sat back and took a breath, the city lights flickering beyond the window.
Somewhere out there was a whole world he had never imagined, and he was going to be part of it, which made him feel excited.