The hunting lodge nestled deep within the jagged folds of the northern mountains, a stark fortress carved from ancient stone and surrounded by towering pines that whispered secrets in the wind. The air was colder here, thinner, charged with a power that Elena could feel buzzing beneath her skin like electricity.
She shivered—partly from the chill, partly from anticipation. Today was the first day of her true training, the moment when she could no longer pretend that magic was something to be feared or ignored. It was a part of her. A force she had to master.
Mira was already waiting outside the lodge, her silver eyes gleaming beneath the hood of her cloak. She watched Elena approach with an unreadable expression, then nodded once.
"Good," Mira said. "You're ready."
Elena swallowed her nerves and stepped into the cold stone circle Mira had drawn in the clearing behind the lodge. The circle was etched with ancient runes—symbols of protection, power, and connection to the moon.
"This place is sacred," Mira explained. "Every witchblood who comes here must walk the circle and call the Moon's name before magic will answer."
Elena closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm the storm inside her. She could feel the pendant against her chest, warm and pulsing like a heartbeat. Raising her arms, she whispered the words Mira had taught her:
"Moon above, light my way.
Bind the night, ignite the day."
The air seemed to hum. A cool breeze swept through the clearing, stirring the pine needles at her feet. The runes glowed faintly, silver light wrapping around her like a cloak.
Mira's voice was low, encouraging. "Feel the magic flow through you. Don't fight it. Let it guide your hands."
Elena focused, reaching out with her senses. She felt a thread—a fragile silver line—connecting her to the moonlight filtering through the branches. She tugged gently, pulling that thread closer until the power flowed into her fingertips.
The air sparkled.
Her hands tingled. The ground beneath her feet thrummed with energy.
A pulse of light shot from her palms, forming into a shimmering orb that hovered in front of her. The orb flickered, casting ghostly shadows across the trees.
Elena gasped, heart pounding. She had done it. She had made magic.
But as the orb pulsed, a sudden sharp pain stabbed through her chest. She doubled over, gasping for breath.
Mira rushed forward, steadying her. "The magic is awakening," she said. "It demands your blood and your will."
Elena's eyes were wide with fear and awe. "I don't know if I can—"
"You can," Mira said firmly. "But you must learn to control it. Or it will control you."
For hours, the two women worked beneath the cold moon, Elena weaving strands of light and shadow, bending the energy to her will. Sometimes the magic surged out of her control, erupting in wild flashes that scorched the earth or shattered nearby branches. Other times, it recoiled, leaving her drained and trembling.
Lucien watched from the edge of the clearing, his arms crossed, eyes unreadable. He didn't interfere, but Elena knew he was measuring her every breath. She wanted to prove herself to him—not just as a witchblood, but as his equal.
When the sky began to pale with dawn, Mira finally called a halt. "You've done well," she said, exhaustion softening her voice. "But this is only the beginning."
Elena sank to her knees, sweat stinging her eyes. She was utterly spent—body aching, mind swirling with a thousand new sensations.
Lucien approached quietly, dropping to one knee beside her. He reached out, brushing damp hair from her face.
"You are stronger than you know," he said softly. "And I will stand by you—no matter what comes."
Elena looked up into his eyes, feeling a warmth she hadn't known she needed.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Before she could say more, the sharp crack of a branch snapping echoed through the forest.
Lucien's gaze snapped toward the shadows.
"Trouble," he muttered.
Mira was already on her feet, hands glowing with pale light. "Stay behind me."
From the darkness emerged a group of riders cloaked in black, their faces hidden beneath hoods. Their horses stamped impatiently, hooves thundering on the forest floor.
One rider dismounted, revealing a scarred face and cold eyes that glittered with malice.
"King Lucien," the man said, voice dripping with venom. "You've made a grave mistake bringing her here."
Lucien stood tall, jaw set. "You will leave. Now."
The man laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "Or what? You'll kill us all? We have orders. Elena does not leave this place alive."
Elena's breath caught.
Mira stepped forward, chanting words that made the air hum and twist. Silver flames danced along her fingertips.
Lucien drew his sword, the blade gleaming in the dawn light.
Elena felt the magic surge within her again, raw and wild.
She rose to her feet, fists clenched.
The battle was coming.
And she would stand in the fire.