By Thursday afternoon, everyone in the law school knew something was happening in Mendez's Patent Law class.
It had started as whispers. Then became speculation. By Wednesday evening it was trending on the law school's private Discord server: #PatentDrama - Live Updates.
Athelia discovered this when Casey showed her the channel Thursday morning over breakfast.
"Okay, don't freak out," Casey said, holding up her phone. "But you're kind of... internet famous. Law school internet famous, which is the worst kind."
Athelia read the messages:
Athelia's stomach twisted. "People are auditing the class to watch?"
"Three people so far," Casey said grimly. "And Mendez is allowing it. Which is weird. He never allows audits mid-semester."
Alex emerged from his room—Casey's room, technically—looking like he hadn't slept. His ears were at half-mast. Dark circles under his eyes. The bond between them felt thin. Stretched.
"Morning," he said quietly.
"Alex—" Athelia started.
"I need to go." He grabbed his bag. Headed for the door. "See you in class."
He left.
The bond pulsed. Weak. Distant. Like a radio signal fading out of range.
Casey looked at her. "Thelia. What's actually going on?"
"I don't know," Athelia whispered. And it was true. She didn't understand why Alex kept retreating. Why he wouldn't fight back. Why he let Severen and Wavelander claim space around her without objection.
"Maybe you should talk to him," Casey suggested. "Like, actually talk. Not just awkward morning hellos."
"Maybe."
But the bond felt so fragile. Like one wrong word would shatter it completely.
PONDEROSA UNIVERSITY — PROFESSOR MENDEZ'S PATENT LAW CLASS
THURSDAY, 9:00 AM
The classroom was packed.
Every seat filled. Students standing along the walls. Three people Athelia didn't recognize sitting in the front row with notebooks—the auditors, probably.
Professor Mendez stood at the front, observing everything with sharp eyes. He didn't comment on the crowd. Didn't send the extras away.
He was letting this happen. Deliberately.
Severen arrived and headed straight for the seat beside Athelia. The same seat he'd claimed yesterday. Students tracked his movement. Phones came out.
"Morning," he said, settling in beside her. His arm came up—automatic now—across the back of her chair. "Ready for today's entertainment?"
"This isn't entertainment—"
"Oh, sweetheart. This is absolutely entertainment." He gestured at the packed room. "Look around. We're the show."
The back door opened. Alex walked in. Saw the crowd. Saw Severen beside her. Saw phones recording.
His ears flattened completely. His jaw clenched. For a moment—just a moment—his eyes flashed gold.
Then he walked to the back row. Sat down. Pulled out his laptop.
The bond pulsed. Hurt. Resigned. Like he'd already given up.
Professor Mendez checked his watch. "Morning. Mr. Wavelander will be demonstrating claim construction analysis today. Specifically, how to identify weaknesses in granted patents for purposes of inter partes review."
Wavelander entered through the side door. He assessed the crowd immediately—saw the auditors, the phones, the attention.
And smiled.
"Well," he said, addressing the room. "Looks like patent law is suddenly popular. I've prepared some materials on how to identify fatal flaws in granted patents—how to prove that what someone claimed as novel and non-obvious is actually neither."
He pulled up a slide. A patent claim. The same one from the homework—the one about combining compatible elements.
"Ms. Winters," Mendez said from his desk. "Come to the board and work through the claim with Mr. Wavelander."
Of course Mendez called on her. And of course Wavelander had prepared materials targeting her specifically.
Athelia stood. Severen's hand brushed her back as she slid past him—steadying her, guiding her, claiming the touch. Every phone in the room tracked the contact.
At the board, Wavelander handed her a marker. "Walk us through the claim elements," he said. "Break it down. Show where it's vulnerable."
She read the claim aloud:
"A method for combining elements comprising: identifying a first element with specific properties; identifying a second element with complementary properties; determining compatibility between said first and second elements; and uniting said elements under conditions sufficient to create a stable combination."
"Good," Wavelander said. He moved closer. Standing beside her at the board. "Now tell me—where would you attack this claim in an IPR petition?"
"The... the 'uniting said elements under conditions sufficient' step. That's where I'd attack. What conditions? How do you know they're sufficient?"
"Good instinct." Wavelander's hand came to the board beside hers. "But in IPR, we're limited to Section 102 and 103. So instead of attacking claim language, we find prior art. Show me—where would the prior art teach 'uniting elements under sufficient conditions'?"
He turned to face her. Close. Too close. Their faces inches apart.
"Chemistry textbooks," she said quietly. "Any basic chemistry reference teaches combining compatible elements under sufficient conditions. That's... that's anticipation. Section 102."
In the back row, Alex's laptop screen went dark. His hands were claws on the desk. His ears were invisible—pressed so flat they'd disappeared into his hair.
But he didn't speak.
"Exactly," Wavelander said softly. "One prior art reference teaching every element. Anticipated. Invalid." His gaze held hers. "Unless the patent owners can show their specific combination produces unexpected results. Something the prior art doesn't teach."
"Perfect." Wavelander smiled. His hand moved—rested on the board right beside her head. Casual. Possessive. "You understand claim construction better than most patent attorneys I know."
The entire class was watching. Phones recording. The auditors taking notes.
Mendez watched from his desk. Silent. Documenting.
"Let me add something," Wavelander said to the class. "What happens when a patent holder doesn't defend their claims? When they receive an IPR petition and simply don't respond? Ms. Winters—what's the result?"
"The Board can enter adverse judgment," Athelia said quietly. "Default. The patent is effectively canceled."
"Exactly. Default judgment. The Patent Office assumes the petitioner is correct and invalidates the patent." His eyes held hers. "No fight. No defense. Just... surrender."
Was he talking about patent law or the bond?
"Thank you, Ms. Winters," Mendez said from his desk. "You may return to your seat."
She walked back. Severen shifted, making room. His arm went back around her chair the moment she sat down. His hand rested on her shoulder—brief, but everyone saw it.
Casey leaned over. "This is insane. Why isn't Hartwood doing anything?"
Athelia looked back. Alex was staring at his laptop. Not at her. Not at Wavelander. Not at Severen's arm around her.
Just... retreating. Further and further.
The bond felt like tissue paper. One more tear and it would rip completely.
Wavelander continued presenting. But every few minutes, Mendez would call on Athelia again—asking her to work through another example with Wavelander at the board. And each time, Wavelander stood close. Touched her shoulder, her arm, guided her hand on the marker.
And Severen sat beside her, arm around her chair, fingers occasionally brushing her shoulder in what looked like casual comfort but was clearly something more.
The class had stopped being about patent law. It was theater now. Performance. A public challenge to a bond that wasn't being defended.
By 9:45, students were openly whispering. The Discord channel was probably exploding with updates.
At 9:50, Mendez called Athelia to the board one more time.
"Final demonstration, Ms. Winters," he said. "Work with Mr. Wavelander to write out the elements of a proper IPR petition."
She walked to the board. Took the marker. Started writing:
"Excellent," Wavelander said. He moved beside her. "Now, the most important question: what makes an IPR petition succeed?"
"Strong prior art. Clear claim charts. Evidence that the combination was obvious—"
"And a patent owner who won't defend their claims." Wavelander's voice was soft. "That's the real key. You can have perfect prior art, perfect arguments, perfect evidence—but if the patent owner fights back, it's a battle. If they don't fight..." He gestured. "You win by default."
They were standing at the board together. Working through the analysis. His hand covered hers on the marker, showing her how to draw the claim chart.
"Like this," he said. "You map each element. Prior Art Reference A teaches element 1. Reference B teaches element 2. Then you show motivation to combine—"
Their faces were close. Too close. She was looking at the board, at the claim chart, trying to focus on the legal analysis and not on the fact that Wavelander was right there, his hand over hers, his breath on her neck.
"The motivation has to be explicit," she said. "You can't just say it's obvious. You have to show why someone would combine these specific references—"
Then Wavelander turned her toward him.
Gentle. Deliberate. His hand on her shoulder, turning her away from the board.
And kissed her.
In front of the entire class.
Not a brush of lips. A real kiss. Deliberate. Claiming. His hand on her face, holding her there for three full seconds while sixty students watched.
Athelia froze. Shocked. Paralyzed. Her mind went blank. The bond shrieked.
Then the back of the classroom EXPLODED.
A roar—not human, definitely not human—shook the windows. Rattled desks. Made students scream.
Alex was on his feet. His eyes were full gold. His ears visible—completely flat against his skull, wolf ears, undeniably inhuman. His hands had claws. Fur rippled down his arms. He was half-shifted right there in the classroom, bones cracking audibly, control shattering.
"ALEX—" Athelia gasped.
But he wasn't Alex anymore. He was the wolf. And the wolf had just watched another male kiss his mate.
Students scrambled. Chairs crashed. People ran for the exits.
Severen was on his feet instantly. "Wavelander, MOVE—"
The side door burst open.
Marcus Valerius appeared—tall, grey-streaked hair, ancient eyes that had seen this scenario a thousand times before. He moved with inhuman speed, crossing the classroom in seconds.
"ALEXANDER." Not a request. A command. Beta override. "SHIFT. DOWN. NOW."
Alex lunged. Not at Wavelander—at Marcus. Trying to get past him. Get to Wavelander. Get to Athelia.
Marcus caught him mid-leap. Slammed him against the wall with enough force to crack plaster. Beta instinct and training meant he knew exactly how to restrain an alpha who'd lost control.
"SHIFT BACK," Marcus growled. His hand was on Alex's throat. Not choking—controlling. "You shift back RIGHT NOW or I put you down in front of humans."
Alex snarled. Thrashed. His claws scrabbled against the wall. His eyes were feral. Completely gone.
The bond was SCREAMING. Pain. Rage. Betrayal. Athelia felt it all—his fury at Wavelander, his agony at watching her be kissed, his self-hatred for not stopping it sooner.
"Alexander," Marcus said, quieter now. "Look at me. LOOK. AT. ME."
Alex's eyes found Marcus's. Held.
"Shift down. Now. That's an order."
It took five full minutes. Five minutes of Marcus physically restraining him. Five minutes of bones cracking as the wolf fought to stay out. Five minutes of the entire class watching through phone cameras as a man who looked like a college professor turned into something else entirely.
Finally—slowly—the wolf retreated. The fur receded. The claws became fingers. The gold faded from his eyes, leaving them grey and devastated.
Alex collapsed against the wall. Human again. Shaking. Chest heaving.
"Get him out," Mendez said quietly. "Now. Before someone calls security."
Marcus hauled Alex upright. Started moving him toward the side door. Alex looked back once—at Athelia standing at the board, at Wavelander beside her, at the entire classroom that had just witnessed his loss of control.
His eyes met hers. Broken. Ashamed. Furious.
"I'm done," he said. Two words. Flat. Final.
Then Marcus dragged him through the door. It slammed shut behind them.
The bond went cold. Not severed—not yet. But withdrawn. Distant. Like he'd pulled away so far she could barely feel him anymore.
Silence filled the classroom.
Then phones buzzed. Dozens of them. The Discord channel exploding. Messages flying. Videos uploading.
Wavelander stepped back from Athelia, expression carefully neutral. "My apologies. That was inappropriate."
"Inappropriate?" Athelia's voice was raw. "You KISSED me in front of everyone and he—Alex just—"
"Made his position clear," Wavelander finished calmly. "The question is—what's yours?"
She stared at him. At Severen, who'd watched the whole thing with calculating eyes. At Mendez, who was already making notes on his phone.
At the sixty students who'd just witnessed a supernatural claiming gone catastrophically wrong.
"Class dismissed," Mendez said. "Everyone out. Now."
Students fled. Talking. Recording. Already posting to social media.
Athelia stood at the board, marker still in hand, claim chart half-finished.
The bond pulsed once. Weak. Distant. Dying.
And somewhere across campus, Alex was leaving. Going back to his kingdom. Abandoning the bond because he couldn't watch it be destroyed anymore.
ATHELIA'S APARTMENT
THURSDAY, 11:47 PM
Athelia sat on the couch with her phone off and the bond completely silent.
Alex hadn't come home. Casey had texted her throughout the day with increasingly frantic updates:
2:15 PM - Have you heard from Alex?
4:30 PM - People are saying he LEFT CAMPUS. Like, left left.
6:45 PM - Thelia, the videos are EVERYWHERE. Law school Reddit. TikTok. Everyone's talking about it.
9:00 PM - Please tell me you're okay.
She wasn't okay.
The bond felt like it was held together with duct tape and hope. Any moment it would snap completely.
Around midnight, she felt it.
The barrier crossing.
Alex going home. To his kingdom. To the Shallows. Back through the barrier that separated the human world from Old Law territory.
The bond pulsed once. Sharp. Desperate. I'm sorry. I tried. I can't.
Then—nothing.
Complete silence. The barrier blocked the bond entirely. Like someone had cut the connection with scissors.
Athelia doubled over. Gasping. The absence was physical. Crushing. Like losing a limb. Like someone had reached into her chest and removed something vital.
He was gone.
Really, truly gone.
She curled into a ball on the couch and tried not to fall apart.
Her phone buzzed. A text from Severen:
He crossed the barrier. I'm sorry.
Then another:
This is what happens when patent holders don't defend their claims. The Patent Office assumes the challenger is right and cancels the patent by default.
She stared at the message. Understanding clicking into place.
Alex hadn't fought for the bond. Hadn't defended it. Had let Wavelander and Severen challenge it over and over without response.
And now the bond was being invalidated by default.
Her phone buzzed again. Unknown number:
Athelia read it three times.
Alex's own Council. His own people. Were challenging the bond. Filing an IPR petition to invalidate it officially.
To save him from watching it break.
She sat there on the couch, holding the notice, feeling the bond's complete absence through the barrier.
Thirty days to respond.
Thirty days to defend a patent that was already dying.
Thirty days to figure out how to fight for a bond when the other patent holder had already surrendered.
— END CHAPTER THREE —
[Continue to Chapter 4 - The Council's Petition]