Amara.
I arrived at exactly six the next morning.
The training ground was mostly empty, and the cold in the early hours somehow bit harder. I pulled my coat tighter around myself as I scanned the area for somewhere—anywhere—that felt small enough to disappear into.
It was then, that I spotted the desolate bench beneath the withered oak tree.
That would do.
I brushed the snow which had settled on the bench aside and sat. Then, steadily, I took a long, deep breaths as I stared at the empty training grounds. Normally, I welcomed solitude. I depended on it. But today, it felt wrong. Heavy. Quiet.
I missed Seraphina.
Her noise. Her sharp tongue. The way I didn't have the chance to overthink when she was near. The way she filled up any space so easily, as though the world bent to accommodate her very presence.
Grandmother insisted she was exaggerating her injury because wolves recovered quickly. Still, I pleaded on her behalf—if it was a break she needed, I believed she deserved that much for how valiant she was the previous day.
Was it dangerous—to grow attached this quickly to someone I only just met?
The thought lingered for a long, long while.
Time stretched longer than I anticipated. Still, it was much needed as I used it to prepare myself for what was coming—the stares, the jeers, the whispers and the hostility that would follow everywhere I went.
After some time, when the sky got much clearer, the silence I was getting used to, began to shatter.
Distant voices. Laughter. Footsteps crunching through snow. I kept my eyes fixed on my phone, switching mindlessly between apps, pretending not to feel the weight of their gazes on me.
Still I couldn't stop my hands from trembling…
And it had nothing to do with the cold.
"Good morning."
I looked up sharply.
Relief loosened something in my chest when I saw Beta Kael. His expression was calm, kind—steady in a way I desperately needed at that moment.
"Good morning, Beta," I replied, forcing myself to stand.
Without meaning to, I glimpsed behind him. I regretted it immediately. My anxiety spiked at the sight of the numerous eyes looking our way.
Can the training be over already?
Kael turned toward the training grounds, and I followed him without hesitation. Grandmother had told me to stay close to him. Even without the advice, I would have done the same.
"Are you ready for today's lesson?" he asked.
I can't say that I am.
"I suppose so," I lied.
He glanced at me, then let out a small chuckle. "What happened yesterday will not repeat itself—not on my training grounds."
I nodded, though that didn't quite ease my fear.
The attitude of the others was not very pleasant, but that was all there was to it. I couldn't force them to like or accept me—even I had a hard time doing that.
What really scared me was the training.
The transformation.
I wasn't ready to feel that pain again—the tearing, the burning, the loss of myself.
I wasn't ready to lose control.
"Or…" Kael stopped walking and turned to me. "Would you prefer to train separately?"
I stared at him for a moment, slowly grasping what he meant. His suggestion was tempting. Gods. I would have really loved to train away from all the eyes. But I would rather not attract more attention than I already have.
"I appreciate it," I said softly, "but I want to blend in. Not stand out."
He studied me for a moment, then nodded. "You are making sense."
The training began with running drills through the woods.
It was brutal.
My lungs burned. My legs screamed. Sweat soaked through my clothes despite the cold. I slowed, then slowed more, until the others disappeared entirely in front of me.
By the time I stumbled back on track, I was dizzy, exhausted—and alone.
When I made it back to the training grounds, mockery greeted me.
They laughed at my slowness. At my blood. My weakness. My fragility.
I was unbothered, honestly. I was too tired to care about their gossip.
Then—suddenly—the energy shifted.
The air tightened. Every wolf straightened, movements sharpening as though pulled by invisible strings. They all tensed up out of nowhere as they instantly started getting serious with training—too serious even. It was as if they were doing it to prove themselves to someone.
I frowned, confusion settling in.
I turned to see Beta Kael approaching me. "Are you alright? You seem uneasy," he asked.
"Everyone is acting strangely. What's going on?" I asked as my eyes darted across the field.
"Are they?"
The beta looked both amused and surprised. He looked away from me, his gaze flicking briefly toward the distant hill.
I followed his line of sight, but there was nothing worth staring at.
"Beta?" I called, still demanding an answer for the sudden change in atmosphere.
He glanced back at me, a smile softening his stiff expression from before. "They're following instinct," he said lightly. "You'll understand someday."
I was unsatisfied with his answer. It felt as if he could explain it if he wanted to, except that he was being elusive. Yet, I didn't press further.
If I learnt anything from what I witnessed, it was that their instincts were sharp, much sharper than mine. And whatever it was that they felt had everything to do with their pure werewolf blood.
That was the undeniable truth, and it stung.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lucien.
I watched from the ridge as the pack reacted to my presence.
All of them did.
Except her.
She stood apart—confused, unaware. Her dulled instincts irritated me more than they should have.
My gaze locked onto her anyway.
Our bond did not allow otherwise.
If she were any other wolf, my presence alone would have unsettled her. Sent awareness rippling through all her senses.
But she felt nothing.
Without wasting any time, Kael began the training for wolf control. She was made to sit and observe the others as they trained. I watched her frequently flinching, backing away, and forcing herself to stay still. Even from that distance, I could see how much werewolves unsettled her.
She was afraid.
Of the others, and more of herself.
And the thought of that stirred my wolf uneasily.
When it was her turn to practice, Kael instructed her patiently. Again and again.
Nothing happened.
But I saw it.
The tension in her shoulders. The way her hands curled into fists. The unnatural stillness of her wolf.
She wasn't failing.
She was restraining it.
Caging it.
The crowd mocked her.
My aura flared in warning—but my attention was no longer on them. She was all I paid attention to.
Mate.
My wolf growled, awakening fully.
She is hurting herself.
I felt it then—the pressure of suppression echoing through our bond. Fear coated with layers and layers of restraint. Control enforced through pain.
Turn.
It was not a command—my wolf was demanding.
No.
I raised my mental defenses and forced it down. I couldn't allow it out, not when it wasn't itself—that would be outright reckless.
If you act like this, I will leave.
My threat meant nothing.
Before I had another chance to control myself, claws tore free, pain flaring as I fought transformation. My wolf surged, furious—panicked.
Vetustus! Calm yourself!
I commanded.
Then, silence. It submitted to my will once again, barely. When I finally gained full control over my mind and body, I straightened my back and turned away, breathing hard. If my wolf could not remain controlled while watching her suffer, then I would not watch at all.
I glanced down once more, hoping to see her for the last time, but I froze at the sight below.
She was on her hands and knees.
Claws extended. Hair lengthening. Her cry tore through the clearing, raw and agonizing as she fought to hold herself together.
My heart dropped.
This—
This was my fault.