The river behind the training grounds was near-frozen, the current slow and dark as obsidian.
Kaelen stepped into it barefoot, the water slicing up her legs like cold knives. She didn't flinch. Didn't breathe.
This was how she started every morning.
No prayers.
No waiting for the light.
Just the cold. The silence. These were her daily rituals.
She submerged herself fully, braid trailing like a black snake behind her. When she emerged, breath gasping, steam poured off her skin like mist from a forge.
Wash away the night. Eliminate the weakness.
Back on shore, she quickly discarded the drenched linen wrap that clung to her like a second skin, the cool breeze nipping at her exposed body as she shivered. With a sense of urgency, she hurriedly donned her clothes, feeling the soft fabric brush against her damp skin, as the salty air mingled with the earthy scent of the shoreline, she wore a
woolbound chest wrap, snug and supportive, designed to allow for the full range of her movements, hugged her torso.
A faded leather tunic, sleeveless and marked by scars of past battles, draped over her frame, its once rich hue diminished to a muted whisper of its former glory.
Worn black trousers, thick with the weight of countless mends, bore the testament of her struggles, stained dark at the knees from the grime of the ground.
Combat boots, two sizes too large and slightly scuffed, shuffled on her feet—hand-me-downs from the Beta warrior corps, each step a reminder of the legacy tied to them.
Around her wrist, a fraying black cord dangled, its edges worn and rough. It was the only relic her mother had left behind, a thread connecting her to a past she grappled with.
Every morning, her fingers lingered over it, hesitating as if searching for an answer she could not articulate. Despite the contemplation, she could never quite understand why…
As the first rays of dawn brushed against the horizon, illuminating the Silverclaw Pack's territory, Kaelen was already immersed in her solitary ritual. With a heavy staff gripped tightly in her calloused hands, she brought it down into the sandy pit with a thunderous force, each strike resonating in the stillness of the early morning.
Crack. Turn. Sweep. Reset.
Her movements were fluid and precise, honed by countless hours of dedicated practice. She trained alone, an island amidst her pack—their absence painfully palpable in the quiet. While the others still rested in their warm dens, whispers floated through the air: some claimed she was obsessive, a relentless seeker of perfection. Others, with a hint of disdain, said that watching her was unsettling, as if her fervour revealed a desire to embody something beyond her true self.
They were not entirely mistaken in their judgments; yet, they couldn't fathom the deeper currents driving her. There was a fire within Kaelen, an understanding that the strength she craved was not merely about the mastery of her craft, but a desperate quest for belonging…and perhaps, something even greater.
By midmorning, the training yard was alive with energy, the sun casting dappled shadows on the ground as it filtered through the swaying trees. Wolves of all ranks moved into a loose circle around the elevated platform where the Alpha stood, their varied pelts shimmering in the sunlight. Kaelen arrived last, her skin slick with sweat, her shirt clinging to her body like a second skin, evidence of the rigorous training she'd pushed through that morning.
At the centre stood Alpha Harkan Morvayne, Eryx's father, a figure of authority and power. He was broad-shouldered, his greying hair catching the light, giving him an imposing presence that commanded respect. When he spoke, his voice rumbled like distant thunder, deep and resonant.
"The Hunting Moon Trials begin in five days. All Betas and pre-Elites of age are required to present themselves. Rankings will shift. Promotions will be earned."
A ripple of excitement mixed with anxiety spread through the crowd, the murmurs of anticipation swirling like leaves caught in a sudden wind.
Kaelen's heart hammered in her chest, each beat echoing the urgency of the moment. This was her chance! Finally, she thought to herself, her mind racing with the possibilities. A chance to prove she was more than just the Beta's stray daughter. More than the butt of every pack joke that echoed in the training yard. More than just muscle without purpose.
At the Alpha's side stood Eryx, his expression unreadable as he stood with arms crossed, surveying the assembly. His gaze skimmed over her as if she were merely furniture, a fleeting thought in a world that revolved around him.
She felt her resolve waver under his indifferent scrutiny, and she looked away first, a flush creeping up her neck as frustration mingled with determination. This was not over. She would make her mark.
After the Gathering
Kaelen stormed through the dimly lit corridor leading to the barracks, her head buzzing with a whirlwind of thoughts about the upcoming trial. The air was thick with tension, and the shouts and laughter from the other recruits faded into a distant murmur as she focused on her anger. She barely noticed Liora trailing behind her until the girl's voice broke the silence.
"You're entering?" Liora asked, her tone a mix of concern and curiosity.
"Why wouldn't I?" Kaelen snapped, her frustration bubbling to the surface like a brewing storm.
"No reason," Liora replied, her voice too sweet, tinged with apprehension. "Just… don't let them goad you. You know how that can end."
Kaelen came to a halt, turning sharply to face her. "And what? I'm supposed to smile and bow while Eryx plays king?" Her eyes flashed with defiance, imagining the smug grin on Eryx's face as he strutted around, revelling in his perceived superiority.
"No," Liora countered gently, taking a step closer. "Just don't forget what happens when Betas act like Alphas. It never ends well."
With that, Liora turned on her heel and walked away, her braid swaying rhythmically with each step, a stark contrast to Kaelen's simmering rage. Kaelen's jaw tightened, a jawbone sculpted of stubborn granite, as she wrestled with the weight of Liora's warning. The last thing she wanted was to let anyone—especially Eryx—dictate her actions. Emotions roiled within her, each beat of her heart urging her to fight back Against the backdrop of condescending laughter that reverberated in her mind, a cascade of contrasting thoughts surged through her consciousness as she immersed herself in training for the remainder of the day. Each moment felt charged with determination, her focus heightened as she pushed through the fatigue.
~Evening at the Training Grounds ~
The sun was sinking low behind the towering oaks, casting long shadows that danced across the dirt-packed ground as Kaelen faced her partner, Eryx.
His expression was a mask, devoid of emotion, but a flicker of challenge ignited in his dark eyes. The crowd encircling them—a sea of expectant faces—made her skin prickle, the weight of their anticipation heavy in the air.
"Try not to embarrass yourself," he taunted, his voice steady but edged with a derisive warmth.
She held her tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, she dropped into her fighting stance, legs slightly bent, fists clenched, ready to move at a moment's notice.
Eryx struck first, quick as a flash.
Kaelen barely had time to react; she blocked his initial strike and stepped inside his reach, driving her shoulder into his ribs with all her strength.
The crowd gasped collectively, a sharp intake of breath that echoed like a challenge in her ears.
For the briefest moment, Eryx faltered, surprise flickering in his stormy gaze. But it was fleeting; within an instant, he regained his composure, sweeping her legs out from under her with a swift manoeuvre that sent her crashing to the ground with a brutal, clinical precision.
"Clumsy," he muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear, the derision dripping from his words.
The taste of dirt mingled with the metallic sting of blood in her mouth, a bitter reminder of her failure.
The match was over—a hard lesson learned.
She didn't argue or protest; no tears welled in her eyes, even as humiliation burned in her chest.
Instead, she pushed herself up, shaking off the dust and bruised pride.
And she vowed to train harder, knowing that every setback was a stepping stone toward her eventual triumph.
~Later That Night|~
In the dimly lit barracks washroom, Kaelen peeled off her worn, grey tunic, the fabric heavy with the dust and sweat of countless days on the battlefield. She stepped closer to the warped silver surface of the old mirror, its edges chipped and the glass obscured by age, revealing a distorted version of herself.
Her broad shoulders were tense, tightened from the strain of carrying heavy armour and enduring relentless training. Bruises, dark and angry, bloomed across her ribs—a testament to the harsh sparring sessions that left no room for weakness. Her hair, a tangled mass of brown, was decorated with twigs and leaves from the forest they had marched through, a reluctant souvenir of her time in the wild. Dirt smeared across her neck, a reminder of the grime and chaos of battle, clung to her skin like a second layer.
Staring into the mirror, she barely recognised the woman looking back at her. A soldier who hadn't slept in days, her eyes were heavy-lidded and shadowed, the fire within them flickering but not yet extinguished.
She touched the cord on her wrist again, the frayed threads twisting between her fingers, feeling the weight of her mother's love intertwined with its fibres.
Her mother's voice echoed softly in her mind, distant yet hauntingly clear. "You are fire and blood, child. But that doesn't mean they'll love you for it." The memory felt both vivid and elusive, as though it floated just out of reach—a spectre of reassurance mingled with doubt.
Kaelen squeezed her eyes shut, willing the memory to coalesce into something tangible. Did it matter if it was real or imagined? In this unforgiving world, facts often blurred into the haze of desperation.
With a determined huff, she opened her eyes, locking onto her own gaze in the mirror. "They'll love me when I win," she whispered fiercely, her voice echoing back in the hollow room, a promise to herself that resonated in the silence.
But her reflection didn't answer, remaining an inscrutable reminder of the battles both outside and within her own heart.