A Mate To Three Alpha Heirs novel Chapter 205

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{Third Person}

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The bells of ESA tolled through the early dawn, their deep, harmonious chime rolling across the academy like the call of a great beast awakening.

The sound echoed from the white towers and glimmered off the glass domes, reaching into every dormitory, every courtyard, and every heart that had been waiting for this day.

Founders Day.

The moment every student of the Elite Supernatural Academy longed for—the day of honour, legacy, and triumph.

The entire school shimmered beneath layers of enchantment; silver-and-blue ribbons danced in the morning breeze, and moonstone lanterns floated like pale spirits above the courtyard.

Professors moved briskly, directing students to their formations, while musicians tuned their crystal harps near the royal pavilion.

Elira Shaw stood with her friends in the line of first-years, her ceremonial uniform pressed and gleaming.

Her long red hair was braided neatly and pinned into a bun, and a silver brooch shaped like a crescent moon clasped her cloak at the shoulder.

Around her, voices buzzed—laughter, nervous whispers, the excitement of a thousand heartbeats pulsing as one.

She inhaled deeply, the cold morning air sharp in her lungs. Selene, her wolf, stirred within her mind.

“Breathe, Elira,” the wolf murmured softly. “This day will mark a new dawn for you.”

Elira’s fingers tightened around the edge of her cloak. “I hope you’re right,” she whispered under her breath.

At the far end of the courtyard, the royal pavilion came alive with motion. The crowd quieted as figures in regal attire arrived, escorted by guards bearing the crest of their kingdom.

The King himself entered first, tall, silver-haired, his presence commanding yet serene. A golden circlet rested on his brow, reflecting the rising sun.

At his side was Princess Kaelis, radiant in her flowing white gown, her aura of power as dazzling as ever.

Behind them came the High Pack dignitaries, including Alpha Cyprus and Luna Gwenith, both elegant in dark robes embroidered with gold.

Their sons, Professors Zenon, Lennon, and Rennon, stood with the other faculty members, dressed in their black-and-gold robes, stoic and composed.

From another entrance, Beta Marc Shaw and Lady Maren arrived and took their seats just behind the Alpha couple.

Lady Maren’s smile was poised and gracious, but her eyes carried a sharp glint when they found Elira among the first-year rows.

Elira felt that gaze like a blade across her skin.

“So, even here, they still look down on us,” she said to herself.

Selene growled, “Let them look. We will give them something worth seeing.”

The Vice Chancellor, robed in deep silver, stepped forward onto the raised dais and lifted her hands.

“Students, guests, and honoured dignitaries,” she began, her voice resonating through the air, “welcome to this year’s Founders Day—a day to remember the courage of those who built this academy and the flame of knowledge that burns within every one of us.”

After her opening speech, the welcome address, the parade began.

Students from each year filed past in perfect formation—banners unfurling, blades flashing in practised rhythm, energy sparking in beautiful bursts of colour.

The crowd cheered as each division demonstrated its supernatural synchronization—earth-shapers moving stones in rhythmic patterns, fire-wielders sketching burning symbols in the air, water-users weaving streams into glistening ribbons.

When it came time for the first-years to march, Elira felt her heart pound against her ribs. Her friends flanked her—Nari grinning, Juniper giving her a wink, Tamryn whispering, “We’ve got this.”

And for the first time, as they marched across the courtyard under the rising light, Elira heard something she never expected—applause.

Applause for her.

It rippled through the crowd—professors nodding, students clapping. Even the King leaned forward slightly, his expression unreadable but intent.

From the professors’ viewpoint, Zenon stood with his arms crossed, his face neutral, but his steady and focused eyes, tracked her every step.

Lennon and Rennon exchanged a quick smile, quietly proud.

Elira’s steps stayed steady, her chin high. She didn’t let herself look at Luna Gwenith, whose icy stare was unmistakable, nor at Regina, who stood with the Student Council near the royal pavilion, her face composed but her jaw tight.

When the first-year line completed its march, the crowd’s applause swelled once more. Elira’s friends squeezed her hands in celebration as they returned to their place.

For a moment, she allowed herself to smile small, but real.

Hearing her mother’s name spoken aloud in front of the entire school, spoken with reverence, sent something sharp and bright tearing through her chest. Her throat tightened.

Her friends looked at her with wide, knowing eyes.

Nari leaned close and whispered, “See? Even the Vice Chancellor remembers to mention and honour her on this important day. You are her legacy, Elira.”

Elira swallowed hard as she nodded.

Up in the faculty stand, Rennon’s gaze softened; Lennon nudged him subtly, a small smile ghosting his lips.

Zenon, arms still crossed, said nothing, but his eyes flicked briefly toward Elira, and for the faintest second, warmth flickered there, before his expression returned to its usual unreadable calm.

The Vice Chancellor’s speech continued—praising the strength of the students, the progress of the academy, and the promise of Founders Day’s final combat.

“To all of you who have endured the trials and risen to the top ten,” she said, “your courage honours this academy’s name. Fight well, and let history remember you.”

As the applause echoed once more, the King rose slightly, signalling for his own address. His deep voice carried through the enchanted microphones with ease.

“Today, we do not simply celebrate the past,” the King said. “We witness the future, written by the hands and hearts of our youth. The Elite Supernatural Academy has long stood as the bastion of balance and bravery within our kingdom. I have no doubt that the final ten combatants will prove themselves worthy of the moon’s blessing.”

When he finished, his daughter Princess Kaelis stepped forward to bow before him, radiant and proud.

“Your Majesty,” she said smoothly, “As Student Council President, I assure you that ESA will make this Founders Day one to remember.”

The cheers from the courtyard still lingered in the air when the sound of drums rolled across the academy grounds, signalling the beginning of the Founders Day Combat Tournament.

The energy was alive, vibrating, a hum of anticipation ready to burst.

“Students and guests!” The Vice Chancellor’s voice carried over the enchanted speakers, calm yet full of power. “Welcome to the final round of this year’s Founders Day Combat Tournament! These are the ten who have endured every trial, every bruise, and every doubt to stand here today!”

A hush fell. Then —

“First-year student, Elira Shaw!”

The name echoed through the stadium like a spark hitting dry tinder. The crowd erupted. Students stomped their feet and cheered, and some even chanted her name—

“Elira! Elira!” — their voices blending with the ringing of enchanted bells above.