Bloodbound to the Witch Heir: Claimed By Four

Luther’s POV

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Mixed Combat Lab, 8:40 AM

For a moment after the blast, Luther heard absolutely nothing.

No cheers.

No spells.

No howls.

Just a ringing in his ears that made the entire world feel like it had been stuffed inside cotton.

Then... the noise came crashing back.

Students shouting. Metal clattering. Someone groaning loudly enough to suggest they’d just been flattened by a truck.

Luther pushed himself up from the arena floor with a grunt, shaking his head once to clear the haze. "Bloody hell..."

He rolled his shoulders, testing them. No broken bones or cracked ribs. Just bruises and a mild headache.

Good enough.

His wolf stirred inside him, irritated but alert. ’That... wasn’t normal.’

No kidding.

Luther looked around the arena.

The force dome that had surrounded the battlefield was gone. Hadn’t been gently dissolved either. It had shattered like glass, fragments of magical light still drifting lazily through the air before fading.

Students were scattered everywhere.

A wolf from third year lay sprawled across the floor, groaning.

One of the hunters was sitting up slowly, looking like he’d been tossed through a wall.

Two witches were arguing loudly about whose fault the explosion had been.

Meanwhile, Professor Varrick stood near the edge of the arena barking orders. "Everyone remain calm! Injured students report to the med bay immediately!"

Right...

So apparently the "friendly academic combat exercise" had turned into a supernatural disaster.

Typical morning at Bloodoak.

Luther snorted softly and pushed himself fully upright.

His eyes swept the arena.

First instinct: check the pack.

He spotted Caelum first.

The blonde hybrid was kneeling beside one of the unconscious hunters, checking a student’s pulse with a calm expression that suggested he’d been through worse.

Lysandra stood a few feet away, back in human form and brushing dust off her uniform with visible annoyance. She looked more irritated than injured.

Pfft. Typical.

Then Luther’s gaze shifted and landed on the center of the arena.

Celeste.

She stood there alone.

Completely still.

The cracked floor spread around her like the epicenter of an earthquake.

Something inside Luther tightened.

He’d felt the blast when it hit.

It hadn’t just been magic. It had been pressure. Like the air itself had bent around her.

His wolf stirred again. ’She’s... different.’

Yeah.

He noticed.

Luther exhaled slowly and started walking toward her.

Students whispered as he passed.

"Did you see that?"

"That wasn’t an ordinary spell."

"She blew the barrier apart!"

He ignored them.

People at Bloodoak loved gossip more than oxygen.

Right now he had bigger concerns.

Celeste hadn’t moved. Not even a little.

When Luther reached her, he saw why.

Her hands were shaking. Barely but enough.

He stepped directly in front of her. "Celeste."

No response.

Her eyes were fixed somewhere past him, unfocused.

He frowned. "Hey."

Still nothing.

Alright then...

Time for the direct approach.

Luther grabbed her shoulders firmly and gave her a small shake. "Celeste?"

Her eyes finally snapped into focus.

For a second she looked like someone waking from a nightmare.

"Oh," she breathed faintly. "Luther."

"Yeah, hi," he said dryly. "Welcome back to planet Earth."

Her gaze flicked around the arena.

The destruction. The scattered students. The broken stone floor—

—Then back to him.

"I..." Her voice faltered. "I didn’t mean to do that."

Luther glanced over his shoulder.

No one appeared dead or missing limbs.

That counted as a win.

"You didn’t kill anyone," he said reassuringly.

She blinked. "I didn’t?"

"Nope." He jerked his thumb toward the med students helping someone stand. "Worst case scenario someone’s pride got bruised. Happens all the time around here."

Her shoulders relaxed slightly.

But the guilt didn’t leave her face.

"Still," she whispered. "That wasn’t supposed to happen."

Luther believed her.

He’d felt the blast.

It hadn’t felt controlled. It had felt like a dam breaking.

Before he could say anything else, a shadow fell across them.

Professor Varrick.

The man’s expression was carefully neutral. Which was worse than being angry.

"Miss Bloodoak."

Celeste straightened instinctively. "Yes, professor?"

Varrick folded his arms. "What spell did you cast?"

A simple question. Except the answer clearly wasn’t simple.

Celeste opened her mouth then closed it again before mustering the strength to speak. "I... don’t know."

The professor’s brows drew together. "You don’t know?"

"No, sir."

Silence lingered between them.

Luther could practically hear the gears in the professor’s brain grinding.

That silence didn’t last long.

Because Luther suddenly noticed something.

Azrael.

The witch stood at the far edge of the arena. Completely still. Hands in his pockets. Sunglasses still on his face like they hadn’t just been through a magical explosion.

But something about his posture was... off.

He wasn’t bored or amused.

He was watching Celeste very closely.

And if Luther didn’t know better... He’d swear the guy looked worried.

Which was unsettling.

Because Azrael Vaelmont didn’t just look worried about anything.

Luther remembered their conversation in Montecito just then:

"I’m a vampire."

He’d laughed then.

But now?

After watching the guy control shadows like they were living things? After seeing him toss a hunter into the air without chanting a single spell?

The idea didn’t feel nearly as ridiculous.

Azrael suddenly lifted his head slightly.

Like he’d sensed Luther staring.

Their eyes met.

Well... Technically Luther met the sunglasses.

But the message still came through loud and clear:

Something had changed.

Before Luther could analyze that thought further, reality decided to escalate again.

The air warped as a ripple of magic spread through the arena.

Students gasped.

"What the—"

A flash of golden light appeared near the entrance.

And then Atlas Stormwood was standing there.

Luther blinked once, stunned for a second.

"Well," he muttered under his breath. "About bloody time."

Atlas looked... rough. Not injured but clearly exhausted. Dark circles under his eyes. Hair slightly disheveled.

Like he hadn’t slept.

His gaze swept the arena quickly, locking on Celeste.

He froze as something flickered across his face.

Fear.

Atlas moved quickly, striding across the arena toward them. "What happened?"

Celeste looked at him helplessly.

"I don’t know," she admitted.

Before Atlas could question her further, Professor Varrick raised his voice.

"That will be enough."

The professor looked around the destroyed arena with visible irritation.

"The combat exercise is officially cancelled."

A chorus of disappointed groans rose from the remaining students.

"Due to unforeseen circumstances," Varrick continued dryly, "this incident will be reviewed by the faculty council."

Faculty council.

That phrase carried weight.

Luther noticed Celeste tense beside him.

She understood what that meant too.

An investigation. Possibly followed by disciplinary action.

Great...

Just what they needed.

Students began slowly filing out of the arena. Some whispering while others threw curious looks toward Celeste.

Luther was about to suggest they get out of here before the gossip circus reached full speed when something caught his eye.

The arena floor.

Specifically the cracked stone beneath their feet.

One of the fractures glowed faintly. Just for a second. A strange symbol burned inside the crack.

Curved lines and jagged edges.

Like a sigil.

Then it vanished.

Luther frowned as he glanced up. "What the hell..."

Across the arena, Azrael had seen it too.

Of course he had.

The witch’s head tilted slightly, expression unreadable behind the glasses.

For a moment neither of Inem spoke.

But Luther remembered something then.

Something Azrael had told him last night:

"You’ll have to look into my eyes to believe me."

At the time Luther had thought the guy was being dramatic.

Now?

Now he wasn’t so sure.

Because as he looked at Celeste. At the cracked arena floor. At the aftermath of that explosion.

A thought crept quietly into his mind.

Maybe Azrael wasn’t the monster in this story.

Professor Varrick cleared his throat, drawing their attention back.

"Miss Bloodoak," he said firmly. "You will come with me to the faculty council immediately."

Celeste stiffened.

"Alone?" She asked quietly.

"Yes."

That single word had barely left the professor’s mouth when Luther stepped forward.

"Not happening."

Varrick’s eyes narrowed. "Mr Hale, this matter does not concern—"

"It absolutely concerns me," Luther cut in smoothly. "She’s... important to me."

The professor looked unimpressed. "This is an internal academy review, not a lover’s nest meeting."

"Good thing I’m also a student here then."

Before Varrick could respond, another voice joined the conversation.

"I’ll accompany her as well."

Azrael.

The witch stepped closer, sunglasses glinting beneath the overhead lights.

"My involvement in the combat exercise makes me a witness," he added calmly.

Varrick looked like he was developing a migraine.

Then Atlas spoke. "I’m going too."

Luther shot him a sideways glance.

Atlas didn’t even look at them. His attention stayed locked on Celeste like he was making sure she didn’t vanish.

"Her magic reacted to something," Atlas said quietly. "I want to see the council’s findings."

Footsteps approached from behind.

Silas appeared beside Luther, hands tucked casually into his pockets.

"Might as well make it a group trip," he drawled.

Caelum joined them next, folding his arms. "Celeste isn’t facing a council interrogation alone."

"And neither is she leaving her best friend behind," Willow added quickly, slipping to Celeste’s side like a determined bodyguard.

The professor looked from one student to another.

Seven.

Seven stubborn, very powerful students.

All staring him down.

Varrick exhaled through his nose. "...Fine." He gestured toward the exit. "Since you all seem determined to waste the council’s time."

Luther smirked faintly. "Lead the way, professor."

And together, the entire group left the ruined arena—heading straight for the faculty council.