THE VOID BEAST

CHAPTER 7: THE CONTRACT

Nine hours later, we arrived.

The carriage rolled to a stop. I peered through the cracked window, and my breath caught in my throat.

The Academy rose from the plains like a mountain carved from stone and glass. Towers stretched toward the sky, their peaks lost in clouds. Windows sparkled with dying sunlight, a thousand tiny flames. The walls were so high I had to crane my neck to see the top.

Even in my novels, I'd never imagined it this big.

I stepped out of the carriage, my legs stiff from the long ride. The rabbit hopped down beside me.

We stood at the gates, staring.

"Look at that," I breathed. "It's enormous."

The rabbit's ears perked.

Students milled around the courtyard. Some were my age, some older. All of them had beasts beside them—wolves, serpents, birds of prey. Powerful creatures that moved with purpose.

And then there was me. A boy with a scrawny rabbit. Bruises still fading on his skin. Clothes that didn't fit.

I felt like a ghost.

"Ugh—sorry!"

A boy bumped into me. He stumbled back, apologizing.

"It's fine," I said.

He had a beast with him—a small fox with copper fur. C-rank, maybe. But healthy. Strong.

"You're new, right?" He smiled. "Nice beast. You need to feed it well so it can look radiant."

I blinked. He wasn't mocking me.

"Thanks," I said. "It's a she."

"Ah, my bad." He nodded toward the great hall. "I'm heading in to form the contract. You should come too. They won't start classes until everyone's bound."

"Contract?"

He looked at me like I'd asked what water was.

"You know. The bond. Every student has to contract with their beast before the Academy starts. Locks the connection."

I'd read about that—the magical contract that bound master and beast. But reading about it and experiencing it were different.

"Right," I said. "The contract. Of course."

He grinned. "I'm Jace, by the way."

"Darian," I said. Then, after a pause: "And this is... well, I haven't named her yet."

"Smart," he said. "Wait till you know her better. A name should mean something."

I looked down at the rabbit. She was watching me with those cloudy eyes.

"Yeah," I said. "Maybe you're right."

---

The great hall was packed.

Students stood in lines, waiting for their turn. The instructor—a tall woman with silver hair and sharp eyes—called them forward one by one.

"Next."

A boy stepped up. He placed his hand on the contract stone—a smooth, dark rock that pulsed with a faint blue glow. His beast, a wolf, pressed its paw beside him.

Light erupted from the stone. Numbers appeared above their heads.

"75 percent affinity. Mana capacity: moderate."

The crowd murmured with approval.

"Next."

A girl with a serpent. 62 percent.

"Next."

A boy with a hawk. The light flashed. 48 percent. His shoulders slumped.

"Next."

A girl with a snake. The numbers appeared. 80 percent. Gasps rippled through the hall.

"Next."

A boy with a horse. 55 percent.

I watched, my stomach turning. The numbers were all so high. Even the lowest I'd seen was 48.

What if mine is lower? I wondered. What if it's nothing?

Jace was called forward. He placed his hand on the stone. His fox placed its paw beside him.

The light appeared. 50 percent affinity.

"Not bad," he said, grinning at me. "See? Easy."

Then it was my turn.

"Darian Vex."

The instructor's voice was flat. I stepped forward.

Here goes nothing.

"Your beast," she said.

I looked down. The rabbit was standing beside me, her cloudy eyes fixed on the stone.

"Come on," I whispered. "We can do this."

She hopped forward and placed her paw beside mine.

I placed my hand on the cool surface.

The stone was cold—colder than I expected. It pulsed once, twice, like a heartbeat. Then a sensation spread through me—warm at first, then cold, then something in between. I felt like my heart was being pulled in two directions at once.

The stone glowed. Numbers appeared above us.

5 percent affinity. Mana capacity: minimal.

For a heartbeat, there was silence.

Then the stone flickered.

Just once. A thin pulse of violet light crawled beneath its surface. I saw it—felt it—a strange warmth that didn't match the cold stone. The instructor's eyes narrowed.

"Did you see that?" someone whispered.

She stared at the stone for another second. Then her expression returned to neutral.

The laughter began.

"5 percent? He's practically not bonded at all!"

"A rabbit and 5 percent. What a waste of a contract."

"They should have just let him fail."

"Even a rock would have been better."

I didn't move. I couldn't. My hand was still pressed against the stone, the numbers still glowing above me.

They're right, I thought. I'm a waste.

A warm touch on my leg. The rabbit. Her cloudy eyes fixed on me. She wasn't laughing. She wasn't looking away.

"Next," the instructor said.

I walked out of the hall. She followed.

---

I stood in the courtyard, staring at nothing.

The sun had set. The sky was dark. A few lanterns flickered along the pathways.

The rabbit sat beside me, her cloudy eyes fixed on my face.

"5 percent," I said. "I've never felt so humiliated."

She blinked.

"Of all the beasts, I got a rabbit and a 5 percent affinity . Do you have any idea how that feels? They were all laughing. Everyone was laughing."

She twitched her ears.

"I bet Darian is laughing too. Wherever he is. He must be thinking, 'What did I do to deserve this?'"

She hopped closer.

"Sorry," I said. "I'm not blaming you. This isn't your fault."

I sat down on the cold ground. She climbed into my lap.

"I don't even know why I'm here," I said. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for any of this."

She nuzzled my hand.

"5 percent," I repeated. "Is that even possible? Is it possible to survive with 5 percent?"

She didn't answer. But she didn't leave.

---

"Don't listen to them."

I looked up. Jace was standing there, his fox at his side.

"5 percent is low," he admitted. "But it's not nothing. You train your beast, see what she can do. You never know."

I stared at him.

"That's... surprisingly kind."

He shrugged. "I got 50 percent. Not great. Not terrible. But I'm not giving up."

"Affinity's just how strong the bond itself is," he added. "Separate from what the beast can actually do. Some people with high affinity never get anywhere because they don't train. Some people with low affinity surprise everyone."

I blinked. "Really?"

"Really." He nodded toward the great hall. "That stone just measures connection. It doesn't measure potential."

I looked down at the rabbit. She was watching me with those cloudy eyes.

"Potential," I repeated.

"Exactly." He grinned. "I'll see you around. I need to get my provisions."

He walked away.

I sat there for a long moment, the rabbit warm in my lap. Then my stomach growled—loud and painful.

I'd only eaten half a piece of bread in two days.

I needed food.

---

I spotted a girl in the courtyard. Her beast—a bird of prey, B-rank—perched on her shoulder.

"Excuse me," I called. "Can you point me to the eatery?"

She turned. Looked at me. Then she smiled.

"Sure. Follow me."

I followed her through the courtyard, down a corridor, past a series of doors. The rabbit hopped behind me, staying close.

"The eatery is a bit hidden," the girl said. "Easy to get lost."

"Thanks for helping."

She smiled again. "No problem."

She stopped at a door. It was ordinary—wood, with a brass handle.

"Here. Just go in and walk deep. It's at the end."

I hesitated.

"Are you sure? This looks like a library."

"It's a shortcut. Trust me."

I looked at her. She was still smiling. She seemed friendly. Helpful.

But something felt wrong. A flicker in her eyes. A hesitation before the smile.

"Go on," she urged. "You're hungry, right?"

I was. So hungry it hurt.

I pushed open the door.

The room was dark. Shelves stretched into the shadows. Books lined the walls. I stepped inside, my eyes adjusting—

The door slammed shut behind me.

I spun around. Through the small window in the door, I saw the girl's face. The smile was gone.

"Try to survive, rabbit-boy," she said.

She walked away.

I grabbed the handle and pulled. Locked.

My stomach tightened.

Then I heard something move between the shelves.

A low growl rolled through the darkness.

I froze.

There was something else in the library.