Connection - Golden Lycans Sequel 3/3 [in progress]

Welcome to Vale pt 2

***Ophelia***

"H-Hi," I stutter, jumping back up against the thick window, a little taken aback by the abrupt appearance of who I am hoping is one of my roommates. I lean further against the cool window and take in his appearance. He's quite tall, but then again...everyone is taller than me. His eyes…goodness, they are the softest, darkest chocolate brown I have ever seen. Soft, yet he is looking at me in such a fierce way, almost...anxiously.

I blink hastily and remember my manners.

We might all be living here for seven years, after all. However, moving into a yurt in the scenic parts of the campus was possibly quite tempting.

The young man looks back at me, his dark eyes narrowing for a moment.

"Have we met before?" he suddenly asks, much to my surprise. What a bizarre question to ask a stranger. He has a slight accent, but I really cannot place it, but he otherwise sounds very well-spoken. I shake my head slowly in response as I take in the rest of his appearance. He has short, fluffy-looking black hair, gorgeous olive skin, and cheekbones for days. Overall, he...is quite handsome, but not in the usual way that I am used to, being from a pack of rough and ready Lycans. He had some clear muscle definition but nowhere near the level of the majority of male Lycans I knew. Those eyes, though. They are so mesmerising to me, yet they are making me feel on edge at the same time.

"I...I don't believe so, I think I would remember," I reply truthfully, because I have definitely not met anyone that looks like him before.

I extend my hand toward him.

He looks down at it awkwardly, almost as if he's never seen this gesture before...yet he must have; he's human, after all. After a few seconds of neither of us saying or doing anything, I remember that my Mum did warn me before I left that a few of the cohort might be more than a little socially inept. Something that tends to happen among academically gifted people. I was pretty high up there with my test scores, but I was definitely not socially stunted, amazingly enough. Or at least...I didn't think I was; I could prove myself wrong, in due course.

"My name is Lia," I decide to announce with a warm smile, looking up into those insanely dark eyes of his. His eyebrow twitches a little, and his warm hand now takes my own as he gives it a rather firm shake. Apparently, he has shaken a hand before even if it’s taken what feels like a full minute to achieve this time around.

"Hello, Lia. My name is Ares. Welcome to Vale."

"Likewise," I reply, letting go of his hand. He suddenly leans down and looks even closer at me. I can't possibly lean back any further and I am a little alarmed, "that's a unique name."

"My parents have a sense of humour," he explains before leaning even closer to me. Too close, really. My heart is anxiously beating harder as he looks so curiously at me, "are you sure we have never met? You feel very familiar."

"Feel?" I mumble, my expression softening as I find this wording rather strange. He continues to stare at me, but just as it's getting uncomfortably awkward, the front door opens rather abruptly. We both turn our heads towards the door to see a young woman bursting in through the door dragging a suitcase, an older man just behind her with several others. She is roughly the same height as me, has a girly fashion sense and is wearing her light blonde hair in a french plait.

"Oh bloody hell! What did I just walk in to? Don't let me interrupt!" she exclaims loudly. I look back at Ares briefly before stepping away from him, walking tentatively toward the centre of the room.

"This place it's STUNNING. Like actually stunning. NONE of the other schools I visited looked like this," the young woman says, pointing up at the domed skylight.

"Hi," I say tentatively as her eyes finally fall onto what is in front of her. She leaves her suitcase where it is and walks quickly over towards me with her hand outstretched, her suitcase immediately toppling over behind her.

"Hi. I'm Maddy. Madeleine, formally, but honestly, it's just him who calls me that," she says gesturing with her thumb at the older man behind her, "everyone else calls me Maddy."

I shake her hand, finding her rather intriguing, thus far. I didn't think she had any social issues.

"Lia...just Lia," I tell her. She drops my hand and then turns her attention to Ares, who is still at the back of the room by the window.

"Oh hello, you're not bad on the eyes now, are you?" she says so boldly, gesturing for him to come closer. The poor guy looks quite apprehensive but comes across the room towards us.

"Hello. I am Ares," he says rather stiffly, exchanging a short handshake with Maddy also, managing to do this far quicker than he did with me.

"Like the god of war, huh? Feel free to conquer me," she says with a wink.

"Well, here are three of us, I wonder who our fourth is?" she adds.

Before either of us can respond she's marched towards the doors and flung open her door, looking pretty happy with what she finds on the other side of the door.

“DOUBLE BEDS? F**k me, this place is unreal," she exclaims loudly before looking at who I assume is her father.

"Oh, don't be like that, daddy, I'm the last one of six! You know the drill. You're proud of me, I'm your favourite, I shall see you at half-term, and I'll behave myself.....relatively," she says, sounding quite brash but looking rather warmly at her father.

"Watch out for this one," her father says with a pointed look towards Ares. I bite my lip a little to stop myself from laughing, noting Ares' strange expression before he decides to disappear into his room.

I go back into my own room once Maddy has said goodbye to her father and gone into hers, and I spend the next half an hour putting my things away.

…

***Ares***

I feel a flicker of quiet happiness as I step out of the Vale administration building into the midday sunlight. Still, I let out a soft breath of relief. This world is still so new to me, and meeting people—real people—is something I’ve yet to grow comfortable with. I’d felt a heavy weight of anxiety about meeting Ella Landry… but she had been warm. Kind.

Anxiety has much to answer for—but at least I accomplished what I came here to do.

I’d wanted to meet her for years. And now, I have.

I find myself even more curious about her. She is, after all, the reason I exist. There’s something good within her—tangible, magnetic. The moment I entered her office, it drew something up from within me too: hope, belief, a sense of belonging I hadn’t expected to feel.

When I shook her hand, I could feel her purpose—her desire to learn, to teach, to improve and grow. She embodies everything I’ve come to understand about the Fae, everything I’ve read about in the old texts in our home library. The sense I got from her was like ticking off the charter itself. She’s passionate about the university’s future—but also, understandably, cautious of me.

I don’t blame her.

But I’m going to prove that I belong here. No matter who, or what, my father is.

I’d read everything I could about how she came to her discovery—the strange, almost accidental breakthrough that merged scientific method with Fae flora, human blood, and Elven material. Curing cancer across species was a miracle in itself, but how it also reversed the infertility among my kind? That remains a mystery. Mostly because of my father’s refusal to be open—and our people’s refusal to be seen.

We’re afraid.

Our kind has always been misrepresented in stories. Twisted through fiction and fear. My father could’ve spoken out—offered the truth. But he didn’t. Perhaps it’s easier to remain a myth, to let the world know only that we exist, and not what we are.

I follow the path between buildings, bathed in light. Everywhere I look there are gardens, wisteria trees, fountains… and glass. So much glass.

I glance down at the site map on my phone and navigate my way back to the residential building. I’d arrived early, hoping to settle in before the real beginning. This place is unlike anywhere I’ve been. Truthfully, there’s nowhere else on earth quite like the realm where I spent the last eleven years.

As the building comes into view, the nerves return.

It’s not surprising. I’ve never been to school. Never had a friend. The people closest to me are my mother… and Atticus.

I don’t know what’s ahead—but I want this. I feel it in my bones. I want more than what most of my kind reach for. There are thousands of us now—natural-born, pure—but only a handful have resisted the urge to feed.

We don’t crave it, not truly. But the benefits are tempting. Strength. Youth. Immunity. Speed. And yet, I never wanted to take what wasn’t mine. Even knowing my body was designed to thrive on it—I couldn’t. It isn’t who I am.

Because we can survive without it. We always could.

Some just don’t want to.

Many of our kind crave power. Influence. It’s no secret that a great number of CEOs are vampires. With their persuasive talents, they take what they want. The humans never even realise it’s happening. That particular power—the psychological control—it does interest me. The way we can make someone wholly suggestible. I’ve never tried it. But I’d like to. Just once.

There are always humans who want to give. Like the Lycans, we have our admirers. Willing donors. People who trade blood for money, beauty, status... or even the chance to be one of us. The days of forced turning have mostly ended, but our numbers have grown drastically since revealing ourselves.

But I am different.

Not just because I reject power. Not just because I want to heal instead of feed. But because of who I come from.

My father was the first vampire. My mother? A secret, just like me. Most know he had a partner, but not her name. Not her story. She used to speak of how grateful she was for her long life… but I know how much she hates what she’s become. She misses her old self. Loathes the taste of blood. Perhaps that’s where I learned it.

There were times she considered death.

But then I happened.

I gave her purpose again. Something natural. Something to hold onto.

And that’s why I’m here.

To find a cure. Not a treatment, not a coping mechanism—a cure. I want to free her. Restore her to what she was. They both know this—my mother, and even my father. And strangely, he hasn’t stood in my way. Maybe he understands. Maybe he thinks I’ll fail.

I press my middle finger to the scanner and step inside the building. The stairs beckon, and I take them—rising toward Flat A, the place I’ll call home for the next few years.

I wonder if my new roommates have arrived.

Oddly, my curiosity is starting to outweigh my nerves.

That has to be a good sign.

I carefully open the front door to the shared living space and I immediately spot a young woman moving toward the very back of the room. She’s standing by the window, looking out across the campus, the sea glittering in the distance. Her posture is relaxed, arms resting at her sides, and something about her makes the air feel oddly still. She’s of average height, her blonde hair falling in soft, natural waves to her upper back, catching the light with every breath she takes.

But that’s not what makes my breath catch.

It’s her scent.

In the few hours I’ve been here, I’ve grown used to the faint perfume of human blood threading through the halls and grounds—background noise to my heightened senses. But this is different. She smells... ancient and alive, like sun-warmed stone and wild rain. I have never smelled anything like her before. I can feel my curiosity pick up.

I approach carefully, drawn by more than curiosity now. She hasn’t noticed me—yet. She’s still gazing out at the world, her back to me, calm and still. I’m about two feet away when my foot betrays me—just a scuff, the sole of my trainer dragging against the floor.

She jumps and spins around.

Her back hits the window with a soft thud, and she stares at me, startled, her eyes wide and shining like startled stars.

“H-Hi,” she stammers, pressing herself against the glass.

I freeze. Not the best first impression, sneaking up on someone in a new home. I recall Atticus’ voice in my head, dry with amusement: Don’t loom. Definitely don’t hover. And for the love of all things, give humans space.

Right. Space. I'm about to greet her, but the words catch in my throat when our eyes meet.

Her eyes.

They’re a wild, vivid sea-green—like the sea in summer. And I am caught. Entirely, helplessly caught. For a second, all I can do is stare.

Because I feel like I know those eyes.

I don’t know how. I don’t know from where. But something deep inside me remembers them.

Before I can stop myself, the words leave me.

“Have we met before?”

It’s absurd. I know it’s absurd. But the familiarity is visceral, unsettling, real.

Her brow furrows slightly, mirroring my confusion.

“I... I don’t believe so. I think I’d remember,” she replies softly, her voice uncertain but no longer frightened. Her gaze remains steady on mine, curious and intrigued.

I believe her.

And yet... that sense of knowing remains.

She holds out her hand with a smile, and says, “My name is Lia.”

The warmth of her voice and gesture snaps me back into myself. I remember the rules—handshake, greetings, the social norms I am not used to.

I reach out, careful, and take her hand.

“Hello, Lia. My name is Ares. Welcome to Vale.”

Her eyebrows lift just slightly at the name. I can tell she’s trying to place it—mythology, perhaps. Atticus warned me that being named after the god of war might raise some questions. It’s ironic, of course, considering I have no interest in battles, empires or dominion.

"Likewise," she says, her voice firmer now, though her hand in mine trembles just a little.

And then I feel it.

The read.

That strange and subtle gift of mine—an inherited talent that has nothing to do with fangs or blood. Just touch.

Connection.

Awareness.

She is kind. Thoughtful. Patient. Nervous, but open-hearted. And beneath all that goodness—anchoring it—is a deep, persistent grief. Something she carries in silence, like a shadow stitched to her soul.

I can’t look away from her. I lean in without thinking, searching her face, trying to match it to whatever memory is stirring inside me, forgetting entirely what Atticus had warned me about proximity.

She leans back instinctively, her head tilting away, eyes going slightly wider again.

Damn it.

I straighten at once, stepping back slightly, guilt prickling in my chest.

“Are you sure we’ve never met?” I ask, my voice lower, softer, "you feel very familiar.”

And there it is—the mistake. The wrong word.

Her eyes widen further.

“Feel?” she repeats, suspicion creeping in behind her curiosity.

Brilliant.

Now I’ve made her uncomfortable again. Perhaps I should just tell her. Drop the charade, explain the truth. Let her decide what to do with it. But the moment stretches long between us, taut and uncertain.

She's still staring at me. And I'm starting to wonder if maybe she feels it too.

That strange flicker of recognition. That sense of a thread tied between us. Familiar, but unfinished.

Maybe Atticus was right.

Maybe I am insane to think I could simply blend in.

I am just opening my mouth to explain myself—to try, however poorly, to smooth over what I’ve probably already ruined—when the front door bursts open so suddenly it jars my bones.

Thank the stars.

A distraction.

A loud one.

In the frame stands a female—young, brightly dressed, her hair the colour of straw touched by sun. The garment she wears is... vivid. Exceptionally pink. The kind of pink that assaults the senses. Her energy enters before her body does, loud and rapid and animated.

“Oh bloody hell! What did I just walk in to? Don’t let me interrupt!” she exclaims with an exuberance that I find mildly alarming.

I freeze.

Lia turns her head at the exact moment I do, and I see her expression shift—alarm, again. She steps away from me quickly, as though I’ve done something wrong. Again.

I have definitely done something wrong.

I don’t know what it is.

I cannot decipher what the pink one meant.

Did she think something was happening?

Nothing was happening.

Was there some implication I missed? Very likely. I glance at Lia again, but she’s already moving forward, greeting the newcomer with a social grace I couldn’t hope to emulate.

A man enters after the pink one. Older and tired-looking. Her... progenitor? Possibly her father.

The girl introduces herself.

Madeleine. Maddy. That name is very human. It suits her—scattershot and colourful and hard to contain.

She smells like human.

Entirely ordinary.

Which only reinforces the question that’s been looping in my mind since I met Lia: why does she not?

My thoughts are spiralling when Maddy turns her attention to me.

“Oh hello, you’re not bad on the eyes now, are you?” she says, words slung with laughter and ease and something else I do not know how to place.

My eyes? Or her eyes?

Did she say on the eyes? Is that a threat? No, no—context. She’s gesturing at me to come closer.

A compliment? I think it’s a compliment.

Is it not?

My stomach tightens. I do not know how to process any of this.

Still, I step forward. Tentatively.

“Hello. I am Ares,” I say, reaching for her hand, remembering at the last second that humans shake hands. I try not to overthink the firmness, the duration, the angle. I am nearly certain I still do it wrong.

Her energy is... scattered. Bright, fast, leaping like lightning in several directions at once. I feel overwhelmed by her presence, but I can also sense her intelligence buried in the chaos. She will likely do well here.

She wears makeup. A great deal of it. I don’t think she needs it. She is aesthetically pleasing by human standards. She also appears to be studying me. Closely.

With something I cannot quite read.

And then she drops my hand.

“Well, here are three of us! I wonder who our fourth is?” she chirps, and before anyone can respond she has marched off down the hall, utterly unbothered by any social convention I’m aware of. She flings open a bedroom door.

A moment of quiet.

Then—“DOUBLE BEDS? f**k me, this place is unreal!”

I flinch at the volume. Again.

She reappears, beaming, and locks eyes with her father. He does not look surprised. Nor impressed.

“Oh, don’t be like that, daddy,”

Her father remains, eyes on me.

“Watch out for this one,” he says, his tone grim and meaningful.

My mind short-circuits. Is that a warning? A joke? An observation? Is she dangerous? Am I in danger?

I give him a smile. It’s the wrong kind, I think. I don’t know how to make the right kind.

I back away from the interaction like someone escaping a potential fire.

I retreat into my room and close the door behind me, pressing my back to it with a deep exhale. The silence is almost shocking after everything.

I sit on my bed, blinking at the ceiling.

I have been here less than half a day.

I have met two females, one of whom smells like something that does not exist in any of my books, and one who moves like a spell someone accidentally cast on a bottle of glitter.

Was it going well?

I do not know.

But I am still trying.

And I suppose—for now—that is enough.

...

***Ophelia***

I’m not even remotely surprised when Mum’s name flashes up on my phone, barely five minutes after I’ve finished unpacking.

“Mum, what a pleasant surprise,” I answer, dry as dust, "didn’t expect a call at all.”

She laughs.

“Just checking in. How’s the room? Everything okay?”

“Okay? Are you kidding?” I say, stepping into the shared living space. “The campus, the view, the accommodation—this place is absolutely insane. I don’t even want to think about how much power it takes to run.”

“It’s all naturally generated,” she says, breezy as ever. “Solar, wind, geothermal—plus I can charge a massive battery in under five minutes. We’re fully off-grid. Internet aside, obviously.”

“Figures."

“Met your roommates yet?”

“All but one,” I say, watching Ares emerge from his room and perch gingerly on the sofa, like he's not sure it qualifies as furniture. He prods the cushion as if expecting it to bite.

“I made sure you had a Clara,” Mum says, amused. “Everyone needs a Clara.”

“Oh that’s what you’ve done.” I grin. “Makes sense now. Maddy is absolutely mental.”

I open a cupboard and pull out an empty glass. Of course it’s empty.

“Who else have you met?”

“There’s a guy called Ares—yes, seriously—and someone named Ash who’s due to arrive.” I glance over. Ares is still looking at me. It’s a little unsettling, until I realise I’m the only one speaking. I throw him a friendly smile and turn away.

The front door opens.

“Ah! That’ll be Ash. He’s Devon’s son—remember Devon? Came for dinner a couple weeks ago.”

My jaw drops.

Oh. My. Gods.

The guy who just walked in looks like he fell out of a fitness magazine and landed here by mistake. Human, definitely, but good grief. He’s wearing a tight black V-neck that could probably qualify as a second skin. Sandy blonde hair. Tall—six-two, at least. Broad shoulders, strong jaw, legs that scream gym dedication. And those eyes. I try not to stare, but I think I forget how to blink.

He looks like a Lycan, but he’s not. I know he’s not.

What. A. Stud.

“Oh… he’s just arrived,” I manage, breath catching. Ares stands to greet him. I don’t stick around. I retreat straight back to my room.

“Mum,” I hiss into the phone, “did you give me him too?”

She’s laughing now. Of course, she is.

“Honestly, Lia, I haven’t seen Ash in years. His grades and being Devon’s kid got him in without interview.”

“Well, intentional or not, you’ve just dropped a full-blown hunk into your daughter’s living space. Dad is going to love that.”

“I can only imagine. Anyway, don’t forget I still need to give you the shot. Totally slipped my mind. I’ll be in the medical centre all week, so swing by.”

“Er… yeah. Not sure that’s necessary,” I mumble, stomach twisting at the thought.

“You’re eighteen, Lia. And wolf or not, you’re an alpha Lycan. We both know what that means. I’d really like us to talk about this like adults. But for now—settle in. I’ll be watching from a respectful distance.”

“Settling in with the mad one, the weird one, and the dangerously hot one. Sure. What could go wrong?”

We hang up. I take a deep breath, open my door—and nearly crash into Maddy.

She freezes, eyes glued to Ash.

“HOLY f*****g mother of Christ,” she says, loudly and without shame.

Then she turns to me, fanning herself with both hands.

“Lia, my dear… it is getting hot in here.”

…

***Austin***

Closing my laptop with a sigh, I lean back in my chair and close my eyes.

Yet more time, then. Why is nothing in this modern world quick? Atlas inquires.

Lord knows. Bureaucracy. Everyone needs an opinion, and everything needs to be weighed and calculated, I sigh in reply.

Some days it’d be easier if we just started our own dictatorship, Atlas suggests. I know he’s half kidding, at least.

Probably would, but even with the best intentions, dictators aren’t enjoyed for long…

There is a knock at the door and I open my eyes as one of the Lycan law enforcement officials steps into my office.

“Sorry, Aus. I’ve been waiting for the UN meeting to end, but…I’ve had another report,” he says, looking apologetic.

“Another? Relating to the rogue issue or?-“

“-another forced marking. This time…it’s a death…” the official replies. I growl lowly and lean onto the desk with my face in my hands.

“Not good…not good,” I mutter, biting one of my nails.

“They got away, so…” the official says, trailing off.

“…another rogue to add to the growing population,” I finish.

“Yeh.”

“Who was involved this time?” I ask, thinking I ought to reach out to the alpha of both.

“Uh…two alphas. Dedham Vale, she was their heir. Great fighter, but…he was stronger. Alpha heir of Pegsdon Hills,” the official says, dropping his head sombrely. He shoots me another apologetic look before he backs out of the door, shutting it behind him.

We need to warn Ophelia, Atlas says.

I know.