Bloodbound to the Witch Heir: Claimed By Four

Atlas’ POV

*****

6:30pm, Crimson Expanse audience section

He moved.

The second the surge happened. The second Celeste’s magic slammed into him through the bond—he moved from his seat in search of Silas.

One of the other mates had to have felt that too.

Perhaps Azrael would’ve been a better fit to ask, as he was a witch too. But Atlas was cautious around that man. Something about his entire being troubled his spirit since that night.

Blood. Fiery eyes that seemed like portals to hell.

’Until I can understand what I’m dealing with,’ he thought to himself when he got closer to Silas, spotting him in his seat amongst a sea of Bloodoak students. ’Azrael Vaelmont will remain an unidentified threat.’

Luther Hale wasn’t the best fit to ask either.

From the day he discovered he and the Alpha were meant to watch over Celeste, he knew they wouldn’t get along. He was right.

"Silas," Atlas flicked his wrist when he got close enough.

A year one wolf girl who’d been trying to inch too close to the Beta while he watched the holographic screen instantly got hit by his spell.

She got on her feet, brushing past Silas’ knees and forcing the man to raise his head with a frown.

"Did you just—" Silas pointed a thumb at the girl while Atlas made himself comfortable on the free spot.

He did it again.

Using his magic to fast-track things was something he did only when absolutely desperate and cornered. Ever since he met Celeste Bloodoak that seems to be every day of his life.

Cutting Silas a look, he started. "The bond. Did you feel anything odd with it when Celeste’s magic surged? During that mirror trial."

Silas paused, brows furrowing.

Too long a pause for Atlas.

Fortunately, he answered after a few seconds. "I... Did feel something. I don’t know how to explain it but it felt like her emotions spiked deeper."

Atlas sighed through his teeth, neck snapping to the holographic screen.

Still static. Still no signs of showing what was happening in that damned pocket dimension.

"That magic surge from our mate wasn’t normal." He murmured.

The Beta scoffed. "You’re telling me. The worst part is that it seems everyone else felt it too. Probably not as deep as us... But still."

Timing meant everything.

After the magic surge, things warped.

First the holographic screen’s surveillance magic. Then thunderclouds appeared above the Expanse, lightning bolts cracking like divine whips and a heavy wind blowing.

Magic that transcended literal dimensional boundaries. It wasn’t normal. And he was certain he wasn’t the only one who noticed.

Soon, he heard a sharp echo from a mic, making him angle his head to the high table. Professor Amelia got on her feet with that practised smile, explaining that they had everything under control.

Saying the "technical difficulties" would be fixed and the students were alive.

However, the mere fact that she had to mention the students being alive told him they didn’t, in fact, have everything under control.

"By the way," Silas’ voice made him turn. "Have you seen Azrael around? He’s been away from the Expanse for hours now."

That set off the alarms in Atlas’s head.

What could be so important to Vaelmont that he decided to leave the Trials to attend to it?

Setting his jaw, Atlas got to his feet, eyes narrowed on the high table. A few professors stuck close to the Dean, whispering and showing him something Atlas couldn’t observe from up here.

Now more than ever he knew something was up. Something Dean Thorne and the others didn’t want blowing out to the students.

"Where are you going now?" Silas asked, tone barely above a whisper. "Don’t tell me you’re going to—"

"Warn the Dean that there’s something wrong?" Atlas glanced over his shoulder. "Yes, Silas. Because there is."

Thunder cracked through the sky, white light from flashing over the Crimson Expanse. Sand got carried by the wind, reaching the audience section and making students cover their faces in a confused panic.

At this point, Silas noticed the shift as well, slowly getting up. "This doesn’t feel like Celeste..."

A shudder of recognition spread through Atlas very soul.

’Gods above and below.’

"I need—" he was about to rush down the aisle of seats when two people he never expected approached.

Luther and Lysandra.

The latter was reluctant, guilt written on her as strands of her black hair whipped over her face. Luther on the other hand seemed—furious. But also oddly focused in a way that instantly caught Atlas’ attention.

With a grunt, Luther pulled Lysandra past the rows of seats, almost flinging her toward Atlas.

"Brother?" Silas was the first to speak. "What is—"

"Tell them what you told me!" Luther barked, blue eyes gleaming with an animalistic light.

Heads swung at them, many whispering.

And still with each passing second, Atlas felt this creeping dread that only grew worse. The kind that only shows when something terrible is coming.

"Tell us what?" Silas eyed Lysandra who stiffened.

The powerful hybrid princess suddenly seemed so cornered and small. "I..." She began. "I confessed to Luther. He’s under a s–spell I cast on him weeks back. Meant to make him love me."

Silence.

Gasps rippled around them, people clearly paying attention to the ensuing drama. Phones rose subtly—this was definitely going to blow up in Blood Eye tomorrow morning.

"What?" Silas gawked speechlessly at her. "W–Wait. Hold on. Even if you did something like that, an Alpha like Luther can’t easily be influenced by such a spell. Unless—"

"Ahhh!" A blood-curdling scream interrupted, sending Atlas’ heart plummeting to his stomach.

He pivoted to the direction of the scream, alongside everyone else in the Expanse. Many got out of their seats at this point.

An eerie stillness spread over the Expanse.

Then—

Guttural growls and roars boomed from the iron gates meant to be the field’s entrance. Coming from deep within the forest. And progressing closer.

Fast.

"V–Vein beasts?" A boy commented with terror.

"Whose scream was that? Is she okay?"

"Someone go check on her!"

"I thought there were wards meant to drive them far away from the field?"

Atlas’ gaze drifted to the high table.

Thorne was already on his feet, crimson robes whipping around him like clouds.

He knew.

This was what those professors came to warn him about earlier.

"The wards," a faint tremble edged his voice. "They’ve been destabilised..."

Luther pivoted to him. "Which means?"

His fists clenched, eyes flicking to the holographic screen. "Either Celeste’s magic outburst was more upending than I thought. Or someone planned this. Intentionally set us all up as sitting ducks for the beasts."

More growls joined the fray, glowing red eyes amassing in swarms only a couple hundred yards away from the gates.