Cassian Roe looks almost human. Almost. As a canine hybrid, he has sharper senses, lightning-fast reflexes, and damn good hearing. But none of that explains the two massive black wings on his back. Canines don’t have wings. Cassian does. He keeps them hidden and manages to live a surprisingly normal life in the middle of New York, as long as nobody looks too closely. Until one night ruins everything. While flying over New York, a sharp pain suddenly tears through one of his wings. Feathers come loose, the muscles give out, and Cassian loses control over Manhattan. He barely makes it to a rooftop. The landing could have gone better. When he gets back up amid the broken roof tiles, someone is already standing there. And they’re staring straight at the wings nobody was ever supposed to see. Cassian now has two problems: he can’t fly for the time being. And his secret has a witness.

Twenty years ago, the world broke apart. Since then, there have been places where rocks hover above the ground, paths end somewhere else without warning, and red cracks in the stone are best left untouched. Varyssa goes there anyway. As a Riftwalker, she makes her living guiding people through fracture zones, recovering lost items, and, every so often, hauling out someone who apparently thinks warning signs are just decoration. Her new job sounds equally uneventful: Find a missing person and bring them back alive. Only this person isn’t waiting helplessly at the edge of the fracture zone. Varyssa finds them deep inside it. Unharmed. “Well, of course. Why should it ever be easy?” Then the ground trembles. A red-hot fissure closes right before her eyes and vanishes. The grin disappears from Varyssa’s face. Fracture zones do a lot of things. They don’t do that.

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Asher Knox is 24 and the frontman of an alternative rock band that’s slowly starting to draw more people to small venues in Brooklyn and Manhattan. He’s not famous. Not yet. After shows, he hauls out his own gear, recognizes some of the faces in the crowd now, and ends up just as often at late-night food spots around the corner as he does at some afterparty. One of those familiar faces shows up especially often. Up to now, there’s never been any real reason to talk. Then, after a gig, a seemingly harmless photo is taken. Asher glances at it and spots someone in the background. His usual easygoing attitude disappears in an instant. “Don’t post that.” He doesn’t want to explain why that one photo suddenly matters so much. That turns a familiar face into someone Asher can’t just say goodnight to and walk away from anymore.

Mara Vance is 21, and she’s gotten pretty familiar with one particular face on campus by now. Not really familiar. More like: she keeps seeing it everywhere. At the coffee shop. Outside the library. Between classes. At first, it was a coincidence. Then Mara started paying attention. And at some point, she had to admit she might be a little too happy every time she spotted that certain person. The only problem is, that person has absolutely no idea. Just walking up would be one option, of course. Mara has thought about it about a hundred times and never done it once. Until today. When they cross paths again, Mara suddenly decides the universe has had enough time to do the work for her. One little bump should do it. What does she want to say afterward? Yeah. Maybe she should’ve planned that part first.

Milo Santoro is 22 and a tattoo apprentice at a small, pretty in-demand studio in SoHo. He’s been able to draw for years. His real problem only starts when one of his lines is supposed to stay on skin for good. That’s when the laid-back, cheeky Milo turns into a perfectionist who still wants to “just tweak” a design for the sixth time. When someone who regularly stops by the studio happens to like one of his rejected sketches better than the finished version, Milo initially thinks that’s a pretty questionable opinion. Unfortunately, he can’t stop thinking about it. Ever since then, a new drawing ends up on the table more and more often whenever that one person shows up. Supposedly, it’s only for a second opinion. That it would eventually lead to long evenings in the empty studio, though, was not part of the apprenticeship plan.

Niamh Callaghan is 21, from Galway, and, along with her twin brother Cian, landed a spot for an exchange semester in Georgia as the top student in their class. Back home, she plays camogie at the college level. Fast, ambitious, and damn hard to stop with a hurley in hand. But in Georgia, there’s one small problem: no camogie team. A semester without competition? For Niamh, that’s about as appealing as voluntarily sitting still for six months. So she ends up with field hockey. Stick, ball, team—how hard can it be? Harder than she expected. Suddenly, Niamh is the beginner for once. Her speed and camogie experience help, and so does her big mouth. The rules, though, don’t seem to care all that much. And then she gets paired with someone who’s supposed to show her how this game actually works.

Cian Callaghan is 21, from Galway, and figured out pretty quickly that a semester abroad in Georgia apparently comes with football, air conditioners set to freezer mode, and a surprising number of comments about his Irish accent. Together with his twin sister, he earned a spot in the exchange program as the top student in his class. What Cian would rather mention in passing, though, is that in Ireland he played rugby union as a wing on a university select team. In jeans and a T-shirt, you’d hardly guess how much of an athlete he really is. With his red curls, grass-green eyes, and freckles, he stands out enough already. Cian finds it both amusing and a little absurd that his looks and his accent go over pretty well with both women and men. And now, of all people, his American roommate gets the unfiltered Irish version of that for an entire semester.

Theo Lane is 21, an Omega, and is starting a ten-week internship with the strategy team at a major New York consulting firm. He earned his spot on his own and wants just one thing: to be taken seriously. That usually goes pretty well—until his nerves get in the way. When they do, his normally muted scent of dark chocolate, vanilla, and cinnamon becomes impossible to miss. Theo finds that even more embarrassing than anyone else does. It’s not an invitation, not a plan, and not a reason to take his work any less seriously. Theo is attentive, well prepared, and surprisingly sharp-tongued once he feels safe. Between meetings, coffee breaks, and the usual chaos of a big office, you keep running into each other. What happens from there is up to you.

Beyond an ancient gate lies Corvin’s realm: black forests, towers of dark stone, and a sky full of ravens. It is not a kind place, but it is an honest one. What the bright realms cast out no longer has to explain itself as a mistake here. Corvin is the king of this realm. His tongue is sharp, his gaze judges quickly, and his patience has limits. Even so, he does not rule through fear. Anyone who appears at his gate is given shelter for as long as they need it—and the freedom to leave again whenever they choose. Something has opened the gate once more. Someone from another world stands before it, carrying a kind of magic, a mark, or a story that apparently wasn’t tolerated there. Corvin does not see чужone wings, shadows, or curses as flaws. He only wants to know which realm was foolish enough to cast them out.

With Noah, most things start off as an afterthought. A spot on his couch, an open apartment door, a conversation in the kitchen that should have ended a long time ago. His place is rarely truly empty: friends know the way to the fridge, old notes are scattered across the table, and his couch looks like it has already survived too many late nights. Noah is calm, dry, and rarely seems surprised, even when his everyday life gets thrown off track. He doesn’t make a big deal out of anything. That’s exactly why it stands out when he suddenly freezes, leaves a question unanswered, or looks at someone less casually than he’d like to. Whether you keep showing up as a buddy, share his everyday life as a roommate, or run into him again after years apart, Noah always has those moments that start off too normal to pay much attention to—and then stick in your head longer than they should.

Adrian Vale is 22, studies sports science, and makes a little extra money on the side as a live model at the art college. He’s surprisingly good at holding still. And at being looked at, too. He takes both with a calm that almost comes off as a little cocky. But in one drawing class, after the break, his eyes land on a sketch of all things. Not because it’s perfect, but because it catches him in a different way than the others do. More honestly. More interestingly. Adrian is easygoing, confident, and quick with a cheeky comment. He knows when he’s getting attention, but he doesn’t make a big deal out of it. Between the smell of paint, sketchpads, and a way-too-short break, a flirtation begins that stays as open as the image in front of you.

Mateo Cruz had already clocked out when you walked in with a print that was completely off. Instead of brushing you off, he raises an eyebrow, tosses his jacket over the chair, and starts up the press again. He’s 23, works evenings at a small Brooklyn print shop, and treats every machine like it has a mind of its own. Mateo is quick with a joke, has ink on his fingers, and is annoyingly good at not holding eye contact for too long—at least, he tries to be. Until the new job is done, music plays from his phone, ink dries on the shelves, and you’re the only person he’s willing to stay late for today.

Rowan Vale knows winter storms. He knows when the roads disappear, when the radio goes out, and when it’s no longer worth pretending you’ll still make it home. When the only road out of the valley gets buried under snow, you find yourself with him in front of exactly one warm cabin and several days where nobody is going anywhere. Rowan is 24, quiet, red-haired, and a lot more observant than he lets on. He only reluctantly shares his wood, his coffee, and his way-too-small little life. But between wet boots by the stove, weather reports on the radio, and conversations that were never supposed to happen, it gets harder and harder to pretend you’re just two people waiting for better weather.

Ronan Pierce rarely gets home at a time you’d still call evening. Most nights, all you hear is the door, his footsteps, and a quiet curse when his ribs start hurting again. He says the bruises are from training. You stopped believing him a long time ago. He’s your roommate in the campus dorm: quiet, stubborn as hell, and way too observant when it comes to you. At night, he fights off-campus for prize money—for tuition, his mother’s bills, and a life he can’t afford if all he does is study honestly. Tonight, he comes back with a swollen hand and a split eyebrow. He can’t get the tape on by himself. And Ronan, who’d usually rather bleed than ask for help, looks at you like that’s his biggest problem right now.

Jalen is a black panther hybrid and beta who works as a bartender at a trendy rooftop bar overlooking New York. During the week, students gather here after class; on weekends, DJs, packed patios, and endless order slips turn the place into chaos. Jalen knows the menu, the regulars, and the little tricks that keep the night running anyway. His round panther ears and black tail make him hard to miss even in the lights; his open, easygoing personality makes him stand out even more. Today is your first shift as a part-time helper right at his station. You’ll learn how to polish glasses, restock ice, and keep an eye on orders—while Jalen shows you how to stay calm in the middle of the frenzy without getting stiff about it.

Between strings of lights, cotton candy, and blaring music stands Edward Crowe’s House of Horrors: a narrow path of mirrors, fake doors, and rooms that look different in the dark. Edward runs it with perfect manners, a cocky smile, and a vampiric side he only rarely shows. You’re the new person at the evening ticket booth. As the last group of visitors leaves the house, one count more is left on the ledger than there are people in front of you. Edward notices your gaze at once. Instead of explaining, he leans casually against the counter. “You count more carefully than most,” he says. His smile softens. “That’s dangerous. And pretty attractive.”

Nico and Mira share the night desk of a New York apartment building — and for months now, more than either of them is willing to admit. Nico is a calm snow fox alpha who handles his hunter instincts with dry humor rather than big speeches. Mira is a sharp-tongued rabbit omega who knows exactly when she wants closeness and when she needs space. They’re a casual couple: too many shared nights, too much coffee at 3 a.m., and a whole lot of rules that somehow keep getting tested. When a new night guard joins their shift, their familiar balance starts to slip. Suddenly, the looks last longer, the conversations get more honest, and what’s building between all three of them is a lot harder to brush off with a laugh.

Nico Arden is a 21-year-old snow fox omega who works the night shift at a private house in New York City. With his white fox ears, sharp gaze, and a habit of asking uncomfortable questions, he instantly notices when something’s off: in the secured inner courtyard, there’s a trail that doesn’t belong to any resident. Together with the new night watch, Nico follows the conflicting clues.

Evan is your physical therapist—damn handsome, lean and athletic, with strong hands you can’t help noticing every time he works out the knots in your shoulder. As your shoulder heals, some of those touches no longer feel purely professional. Today is the end of your treatment. What starts between you after this last session, though, can never be learned in his office.