"You're losing control."
Gabriel - his monstrous features fully revealed - lay panting on the floor of the training room. He scoffed at his mother's words.
"No shite?" he rasped, his voice carrying a strange, guttural reverberation that didn't sound entirely human.
"Yes, shite," Eloá replied dryly. "Now get up, meu Anjo. We're not quite done yet."
He groaned as he pushed himself off the ground, his claws carving fresh gashes into the stone. Once upright, he glared at her - Eloá, standing pristine in the immaculate witch's robes she'd recently taken to wearing, pointed hat and all. The high heels on her feet made him bare his fangs in frustration.
Around them, the vast dueling ring carved into the mountain was wrecked - pitted with craters and gouges from both spells and Gabriel's body. Yet in a perfect circle around Eloá, the ground remained smooth, unblemished and untouched.
"You're not taking this seriously at all," he growled.
"I'm taking it as seriously as I need to," she answered, tone light, almost playful. "If you can't even make me move from my place, then I see no reason to bother wearing something more practical."
He knew she was baiting him.
He knew it.
He knew she was deliberately pushing him, trying to make him lose focus.
And still-
Gabriel exhaled through his nose, a harsh, animal sound. A low snarl crept across his face.
He raised his hands, settling into the combat stance that had been drilled into him for years - though now it was off: too tense, too forward, too eager. His balance was wrong. His breathing was too fast. His instincts screamed for motion, not control.
He took one step forward. Then another. Then a third.
And then he was charging.
A spark of red light shot from Eloá's wand, striking the ground ahead of him. He recognized the spell instantly - the Slipping Charm. He leapt, knowing from bitter experience that if he so much as brushed the spell's area, he'd hit the floor in a helpless heap.
But being airborne meant he couldn't dodge.
A heartbeat later, a pulsing red flash hit him square in the chest. The explosion drove the air from his lungs and hurled him upward, smashing him against the rounded ceiling of the cavern with a thunderous crack.
Fortunately, despite the pain, Gabriel manages to stay aware enough to dig his claws into the stone ceiling, feeling it pulse and try to mend itself around him. He looks down and sees his mum - calm as ever - watching him with a small, amused smile instead of pressing the attack.
He shifts, pressing the flat of his feet firmly against the rock. His legs scream as he coils like a spring - then launches himself downward.
The same spell as before flashes from her wand, but this time he punches it mid-air. The black scar tissue on his hand - grown thicker and rougher after weeks of brutal training - has turned from faint dark lines to near stone-like protrusions. Gabriel was already much more resistant to magic than most wizards, but the patches where the Gorjala's hide had taken root were something else entirely.
The spell still detonates, but enough of its force is negated that, instead of becoming an inhuman cannonball, he's merely sent spinning through the air. He manages to twist mid-fall, landing on his feet in a crouch.
His right arm, however, is completely numb. His legs burn as if acid were coursing through his veins.
He looks up at Eloá - who's still watching him with a faintly raised eyebrow.
A deep growl builds in his chest. The world begins to lose its color, draining into shades of gray and white as his pulse pounds in his ears.
Then he moves.
He stomps forward, each step cracking the ground beneath him and propelling him faster, harder. The Slipping Charm leaves her wand again - but this time, it never reaches the floor.
The rock he'd ripped from the ceiling earlier flies from his left hand, intercepting the charm mid-air and crashing harmlessly above the ring.
Eloá laughs. Gabriel roars.
He's less than five meters away when the floor between them suddenly surges upward - transfigured into a wall of stone. He smashes through it with his shoulder, the impact shaking the ground but barely slowing him down.
For a split second, victory flashes in his eyes - until he sees the tip of his mother's wand, glowing red, aimed squarely at his face.
Another explosion.
Another blast of pain and light.
And once again, Gabriel finds himself hurtling out of the ring's bounds.
Gabriel feels nothing but the dull, heavy pulse of his own heart.
It pounds so loudly it echoes through the cave, like a drum beating underwater. His breathing turns ragged, harsh, each inhale sounding wetter than the last. His chest heaves. His fingers flex open and close, claws scraping against his palms but failing to pierce the skin.
He turns his head sharply from one side to the other, trying to focus on something - anything - but the world blurs, and all that comes out of his throat are distorted sounds, half-words strangled in static. Frustration twists inside him, molten and primal. He slams his fists into the ground. The stone trembles. Then again, and again - his claws tear gouges into the walls around him, dust and fragments raining down.
Eloá watches him, her voice cutting through the air like frost. "Oh, baby. Aren't you a little too old to be throwing a tantrum?"
Her amusement is cold, but fond.
The only answer is a roar - deep, monstrous, and nothing like Gabriel's voice. The sound fills the cavern, vibrating in the walls. When it fades, he glares at her in silence, his eyes no longer human. His hands and feet are buried into the ground like anchors. Then, without warning, he launches himself forward - faster than before, so fast that even Eloá's face flickers with a hint of surprise.
Before his strike can land, a lilac crystalline structure blossoms around him with a sharp, ringing hum.
Gabriel crashes into it with bone-rattling force. The impact of it doesn't even leave a crack into the surface. Blood runs down his temple as he blinks in confusion, his glowing white irises darting wildly within the pitch-black of his sclera. He doesn't seem to understand what's stopping him - or perhaps he does, but refuses to accept it.
Eloá lowers her wand slightly, smiling with genuine intrigue.
"Fascinating," she murmurs. "So the flailing earlier was just misdirection - like the stone trick before. Clever, meu Anjo. Truly clever. If only you could keep that craftiness while in control… why, I think you might even make me move!"
Gabriel snarls and slams both fists into the barrier. The shield hums under the force, shimmering with lilac light.
"Oh, don't be like that," she says lightly. "This isn't just a shield charm, you know? It's actually a rather dark curse - designed to completely isolate whoever's trapped inside. It slowly steals their air, siphons their magic to sustain itself. That's how I captured your father- well, mother, really. I suppose it doesn't make much difference for you to know now."
She tilts her head thoughtfully, speaking as if lecturing a classroom.
"I didn't want to confuse you when you were little, so I never bothered to correct it later. You understand."
Gabriel keeps pounding on the barrier, blows raining faster, harder. Each strike echoes like thunder, dust falling from the ceiling. The lilac light flickers.
"But don't worry, love," Eloá continues conversationally. "It'll only hold until you faint and revert. Though it's taking quite a while… Is your magic supplementing your need for oxygen? That would make sense, considering the size of the average Gorjala. They'd require tremendous airflow to sustain-"
A sharp sound cuts her off.
Crack.
Her words stop mid-sentence. Her eyes narrow in disbelief.
Gabriel's claws are buried deep in the crystalline surface - and this time, they've pierced through. Tiny fractures spread outward like veins of lightning, glowing against the lilac sheen.
Eloá's smile fades, replaced by genuine astonishment.
"Oh my," she whispers.
Gabriel digs his claws deeper into the crystal, tendons straining as sparks of raw magic crackle across his arms. With a guttural sound, he pulls outward - and the shield tears open, lilac shards scattering like glass in slow motion.
He forces his head through the gap, the edges scraping against his skin as he emerges. His face is a twisted mixture of a grin and a snarl, equal parts defiance and triumph.
Eloá stands frozen - wand half-raised, eyes wide - as he leans forward, closing the distance between them.
He doesn't strike. He doesn't lunge for a bite. He doesn't roar.
Instead, he presses his forehead against hers.
For a moment, they're perfectly still - her wide eyes staring into his burning white ones, the air between them charged with tension and the faint hum of residual magic. Then, with a low, almost gentle motion, he headbutts her. Not hard enough to hurt - but hard enough to send her stumbling back a step.
Eloá blinks, mouth open in disbelief. "Did you just-?"
A sound makes her look up.
At first, it's a choked giggle - then a snort, and finally a full, unrestrained, breathless laugh. Gabriel's laughter echoes through the cave, wild and strained, muscles trembling as he struggles to hold the broken shield apart. The veins in his arms stand out like cords, his claws still embedded in the shimmering fragments.
Eloá opens her mouth to scold him - but stops. The corners of her lips twitch. And then, quite suddenly, she starts laughing too.
Between the two of them, the echo of battle fades into the sound of shared laughter - raw, unguarded, real.
"You-" she starts between laughs, voice softening, "you really are the greatest thing I've ever done in my life."
Gabriel just keeps laughing, tears in his glowing eyes, chest heaving with exhaustion.
She rolls her eyes fondly, brushing imaginary dust from her robes.
"Yes, yes, you did it," she teases. "Stop being so smug about it. Nobody likes a braggart."
He laughs even harder.
Eloá sighs, smiling wide now. "Oh, shut up. Go take a nap, will you?"
She raises her wand, and with a gentle flick - a flash of soft blue light.
Gabriel goes still mid-laugh, his body relaxing all at once as he collapses backward. The cursed shield dissolves into motes of light around him, scattering like fireflies before fading into nothing.
Eloá stands over him for a moment - watching her son sleep peacefully on the cracked stone floor, the faintest trace of a proud smile lingering on her lips.