The monastery lay silent under a blanket of frost, its stone walls gleaming in the pale light of morning. The courtyard, once a chaotic battlefield of snow and training, now bore the marks of careful practice—footprints etched in frozen ground, faint scorch marks from Lammy's fire, subtle rune traces from Praise's sword.
Prince moved among them, observing. "Two weeks isn't long," he reminded, voice calm but firm. "Every day counts. Precision, control, coordination—this is how we survive."
Jed shifted uneasily, feeling the beast inside stir. A training drill began: coordinated attacks against illusory foes conjured by Prince's mind. At first, Jed's transformations were hesitant, his claws scratching through ice, nearly losing control. Prince intervened, hand on his shoulder. "Channel it. Your enemy isn't outside—it's inside. Use it, don't fight it." Jed inhaled sharply, forcing the beast back, regaining form just in time.
Lammy's hands glowed as fire met frost, sparks flying, melting the ice that threatened to ensnare them. He experimented with shielding and minor healing spells simultaneously, sweat trickling down his forehead. "We need precision," he muttered to himself. "If I can't control both, we fail."
Praise moved with growing confidence, the ancient sword in hand. Runes glimmered faintly as she traced them, discovering minor protective spells hidden within the scrolls. Each swing of her blade sent faint arcs of energy across the courtyard. She stumbled once, nearly losing balance on the icy stones, but caught herself. "Focus," she whispered, voice trembling but determined. "Every strike counts."
Prince tested his own abilities, conjuring illusions of wolves and phantom shadows that attacked unpredictably. The team moved in sync, predicting his actions, countering, adapting. "This isn't just strength," he reminded them, eyes glowing faintly. "It's control. Awareness. Trust."
By afternoon, the training grew intense. The heroes navigated icy traps, coordinated multi-step maneuvers, and practiced rescue drills. Laughter mingled with groans of exhaustion as they corrected mistakes, learned from failures, and encouraged each other. Praise admitted fears about facing Veyra. Lammy confessed worry over losing control of his magic. Jed's voice cracked as he revealed the constant struggle against the beast inside. Prince listened, offering guidance and subtle praise, reinforcing trust without words.
Night fell, and the snowstorm outside intensified. Inside, they gathered near a small fire, exhausted but alive. The shadows danced on the walls, echoing the tension outside. Prince noticed Praise sitting quietly, tending minor injuries and adjusting runes with meticulous care. The soft glow reflected in her eyes, and for a moment, the chaos of training and fear of the coming fight faded.
"I…" Prince began, voice low. He hesitated, then continued, "I've always admired your strength… and more than that, I—" He stopped, searching her gaze.
Praise blinked, surprised, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. She looked down at the glowing runes and whispered, "Prince…"
No words followed, the fire crackled, shadows stretching across tired faces, and outside, the snowstorm raged.
Subtle signs of Veyra's presence haunted the night: frost patterns along the windows, ice crystals that shimmered like watching eyes, gusts of wind that seemed almost deliberate.
Prince stood, gaze steady, fists clenched. "One week left," he said, voice carrying authority and urgency. "Every mistake matters now. Train like your lives depend on it—because they do."
A faint silhouette appeared on a distant ridge, barely visible through the storm. Veyra's form was still, cold, and observant. Her presence, though distant, was undeniable. The countdown was real, and the heroes could feel the pressure pressing down like the weight of the snow around them.
They shivered, not from the cold, but from the awareness that the final test was approaching. Every skill, every bond, every ounce of strength would soon be pushed to its limits. The night of reflection had begun, and the heroes knew that in seven days, the real storm would arrive.