Chapter 150: Karaoke Disaster

Astrid Vale

"Our girls’ day isn’t over," Ivy announced as we finished the last of our shopping bags, dragging me toward the student lounge before I could properly protest.

"I don’t sing," I said.

"You survived an underground civilization full of curses and feral wolves. Surely karaoke isn’t beyond you."

"Those things aren’t comparable."

"They’re exactly comparable," she said, already pushing through the lounge doors, and I gave up arguing since arguing with Ivy rarely accomplished anything productive.

The place buzzed with energy the moment we stepped inside, students crowded around small tables, someone butchering a popular song on stage while their friends cheered them on regardless of the quality. Moonshade felt alive at night in a way I hadn’t fully appreciated before, students sneaking out past curfew, laughter spilling from every corner, an entire secret rhythm to the academy that existed separate from classes and assignments.

We found a table and ordered drinks, watching a parade of increasingly terrible performances while Ivy commentated on each one like a professional judge. When her turn finally came, she marched up to the stage and delivered a performance so deliberately dramatic and off-key that I nearly cried from laughing so hard.

"Your turn," she said, sliding back into her seat, breathless from her own performance.

"Absolutely not."

She grabbed my arm and hauled me toward the stage before I could properly resist, and somehow I found myself standing there with a microphone in hand, the crowd waiting expectantly.

I started singing, badly at first, my voice shaky and uncertain, and then something shifted mid-verse. Sound sharpened around me suddenly, too much of it all at once. I could hear a conversation happening several tables away with startling clarity, someone whispering something about me returning to Moonshade, another voice murmuring a comment I couldn’t quite catch but understood was directed my way. The music, already loud, felt like it was pressing directly against my skull, and underneath it all, scents I hadn’t noticed before flooded my senses, sweat and perfume and spilled drinks overwhelming in a way that made my head spin.

I stumbled over the next line, my voice trailing off entirely.

Ivy was at my side within seconds, guiding me off the stage and away from the crowd’s confused murmuring, finding us a quieter corner near the back exit.

"What happened?" she asked, watching me carefully.

"I could hear everything," I said, pressing my palm against my temple. "The music, conversations across the room, someone’s perfume from three tables away. It hit me all at once."

"Do you think it’s Sapphire?" Ivy asked.

I closed my eyes, reaching inward the way I’d learned over the past few days, and found her presence immediately, awake rather than silent, watching from somewhere beneath the surface of my own thoughts. She didn’t offer explanation, didn’t provide any convenient answer for what had just happened, simply existed there, patient and present in a way that told me this was somehow connected to her without confirming exactly how.

"She’s awake," I said. "But she’s not explaining anything."

"Typical wolf behavior," Ivy said, though her tone stayed gentle. "You okay to keep going, or do you want to head back?"

I took a breath, letting the overwhelming sensations settle slightly. "I want to keep going," I said. "I’m not letting one strange moment ruin the entire night."

We made our way back to our table, and after a few more minutes, I found myself walking back toward the stage on my own, choosing a song this time instead of being dragged there. My voice came out steadier now, and something about singing because I actually wanted to, rather than because Ivy had forced me, made the whole experience feel entirely different.

A few students near the front recognized me partway through, cheering louder than the performance probably deserved, and Ivy stood at our table clapping enthusiastically, clearly delighted by the whole thing.

Reed and Xander arrived just as I finished, having apparently been told where we’d gone and deciding to make sure we got home safely afterward.

"I can’t believe I missed this," Xander said, looking genuinely wounded.

"She was incredible," Ivy said immediately, grinning at me.

"Don’t you dare mention the first attempt," I warned her under my breath.

"What first attempt?" Xander asked, immediately suspicious.

"Nothing," Ivy said, entirely too innocent.

Reed’s expression carried something quieter, more genuine than Xander’s dramatic disappointment. "I would have liked to hear you sing," he said, and something warm settled in my chest at the simple sincerity of it.

We started walking back toward the apartment together, the night air cool against my skin after the heat of the crowded lounge. As we walked, I noticed my senses sharpening again, footsteps from students still out past curfew echoing from streets away, snippets of conversation drifting from windows I shouldn’t have been able to hear at all.

I deliberately shifted my focus, searching instead for something familiar to anchor myself against the overwhelming input. Reed’s scent found me first, warm and grounding, something steady I could hold onto amid everything else crowding in. Xander’s followed close behind, distinct and equally calming in its own way.

The sensory overload eased almost immediately, replaced by something quieter, more manageable, and somewhere beneath the surface of my thoughts, I felt Sapphire react to their presence, something instinctive and pleased settling through me at the recognition.

"You okay?" Reed asked, noticing my expression shift.

"Better," I said. "Everything got loud for a second. Focusing on you both helped."

He reached over and took my hand without needing further explanation, and Xander fell into step on my other side, still complaining good-naturedly about missing my performance while Ivy egged him on with exaggerated descriptions that bore little resemblance to what had actually happened.

Walking between them, surrounded by their familiar presence, I understood something settling into place that I hadn’t fully grasped until that moment. My wolf wasn’t simply awake anymore, sitting quietly beneath the surface waiting to be acknowledged.

She was learning, gradually,

how to actually use everything she’d been given.

And apparently, so was I.