The Messenger( Iva) novel Chapter 215

Doubts-1

Lori didn’t remember walking back to her room.

The corridor blurred around her-stone walls and flickering lights and the distant murmur of other students-all of it smearing together like wet paint. Her feet moved on their own, carrying her up the stairs, down the hall, past doors she didn’t see.

She reached her room.

The door swung open.

She stepped inside.

And then she slid down onto her bed, her back against the headboard, her legs stretched out before her. The room spun. The walls seemed to pulse, in and out, in and out, like the chamber of a beating heart.

She couldn’t see anything around her.

Her vision was tunneled, narrowed to a single point-the white wall opposite her bed, blank and unhelpful.

Her head was spinning.

Iva’s words echoed in her skull, bouncing off bone and memory, refusing to settle.

*Headmaster Attia is your fated mate.*

What?

*What?*

The question repeated itself over and over, a broken record skipping on the same scratched groove. She pressed her palms to her temples, as if she could physically push the thoughts into some kind of order.

This was insane.

This was absolutely, completely, utterly insane.

But Iva wasn’t messing with her. Iva wouldn’t do that. Not about something like this. Not when the pain in her eyes had been so real, so raw, so heavy with the weight of the secret she had been carrying.

Iva was the Moon Goddess Messenger.

The title still felt strange-still felt like something from a legend, not something that belonged to her chaotic, kind, fiercely loyal best friend. But it was real. The threads were real. The Goddess’s will was real.

And according to that will, Headmaster Attia was her fated mate.

Lori squeezed her eyes shut.

*Think, Lori. Calm down.*

She forced herself to take a breath. Then another. The air felt thin, insufficient, like trying to breathe through a straw.

1.2

Doubts 1

Claim

She opened her eyes and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her hands were shaking as she reached Tor the pitcher of water on her nightstand. She poured a glass-sloppy, half of it splashing onto the wood-

and brought it to her lips.

The water was cool. Clean. It’slid down her throat and settled in her stomach like a small anchor.

She drank the whole glass.

Then she set it down and pressed her palms flat on the mattress, focusing on the feeling of the rough fabric beneath her fingers. The texture. The solidity. The simple, grounding reality of *this is real, you are here, you are not falling apart.*

“Think logically,” she commanded herself. “There is no need to panic.”

But her heart was beating like crazy-a wild drum pounding against her ribs, demanding to be heard. Each thump seemed to echo Iva’s words. *Attia. Attia. Attia.*

And her inner wolf was not helping.

Layla paced inside her mind, frantic and restless, her claws scratching at the edges of Lori’s consciousness. Her energy was a storm-sharp and electric and impossible to ignore. Every few seconds, she would pause, lift her head, and whine toward some invisible horizon.

“Mate,” Layla whimpered. “We should go to mate.”

Lori’s eyes flew open.

“Are you insane?” she hissed aloud, her voice echoing in the empty room. “He’s the headmaster! We can’t just approach him!”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify