The next time I woke, it was to someone shaking my shoulder and the faint, sing-song threat of violence.
“If you don’t get up,” Brenna hissed near my ear, “I’m going to dump this entire basin of water on your face. And it’s cold, Kaia. Very cold.”
I groaned and tried to burrow deeper into the blanket.
“Go away.”
“She almost died yesterday,” another voice muttered. “Let her sleep.”
“That was yesterday,” Brenna retorted. “Today she learns how not to almost die again. Or how not to take the rest of us with her when she explodes.”
“That’s not funny,” the second voice snapped.
It took a second for my brain to match it to a face.
“Nana?” I mumbled, blinking.
The room swam into focus: rough stone ceiling, narrow cot, the same small infirmary space as before. The oil lamp had been replaced with a thin beam of dawn light sneaking in through the tiny window. The air smelled of herbs, disinfectant, and Brenna’s usual mix of flour, soap, and trouble.
Nana Lysa sat on a chair near the end of the bed, her wiry gray hair in its usual tight braid, her worn hands folded over a walking stick. She looked smaller than I remembered. Older.
Brenna stood beside her, basin in her arms, dark curls frizzed around her face from the damp morning air. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but her expression was pure mischief and stubbornness.
“You came,” I croaked at Nana.
She snorted. “Of course I came, foolish girl. If the Goddess has decided to finally light you on fire, someone has to make sure you don’t burn your own toes off.”
Emotion clogged my throat. “I missed you.”
Her gaze softened. “I missed you too.” Then her expression sharpened. “Now get up. The alpha from the storms is waiting.”
Heat flickered low in my belly.
“I hate everyone,” I muttered, throwing the blanket back.
Brenna stared, then promptly turned scarlet and spun around. “Pants,” she squeaked. “Pants first, then complaining.”
I glanced down.
Right.
Still naked.
Someone—probably a healer—had left a neatly folded pile of clothes on a stool: a simple gray sports bra, dark leggings, and a long-sleeved training top that looked newer than anything I’d ever worn.
“Fancy,” Brenna commented, still facing the wall. “Look at you, getting the good stuff. Soon you’ll forget all about us peasants.”
“If you don’t stop talking,” I warned, dragging on the leggings, “I *will* set your hair on fire.”
Ashra perked up. *Can we? I’ve always wanted to see what burned curls look like.*
*No,* I told her firmly.
*You’re no fun,* she sighed.
I pulled the top over my head, wincing as sore muscles protested. Every part of me ached—bones, joints, even my teeth felt vaguely bruised. It was like the flu had gotten drunk with a hangover and decided to move in.
But beneath the soreness, there was…strength.
A coiled, buzzing potential under my skin. Like the air before a storm.
“You’re glowing,” Brenna said bluntly when she finally dared to turn back around.
“I am not.”
“You are,” she insisted, stepping closer to peer at my face. “Your eyes are weird. And your skin looks like you rolled in pixie dust.”
Nana Lysa smacked her knee with the walking stick. “Don’t pester the girl.”
“But look—”
“I said *don’t*.”
Brenna huffed, then took a step back, relenting. “Fine. But if you spontaneously combust, I want front-row seats.”
I finished lacing the boots someone had left—a half size bigger than my old kitchen pair, the soles thick and flexible. Warrior boots.
The thought sent a tangle of excitement and dread tumbling in my stomach.
“Here,” Nana said, rising with a soft grunt and holding out a small cloth bundle.
I took it.
Inside was a thin leather cord threaded with two small wooden beads, each carved with a different symbol. I recognized them instantly.
One was a stylized paw print. My mother had worn that one, carved by her own mother when she’d made warrior status.
The other was an arrow etched over a leaf. My father’s, for his work as a tracker and hunter.
“I thought these were buried with them,” I whispered, fingers shaking as they closed around the beads.
“They were,” Nana said quietly. “On paper. In the official records. In truth, Elyra had them taken from the funeral shrouds and kept. She couldn’t bear to put them in the ground. She sent them to me last night. Said…you’d need your parents today.”
Tears burned behind my eyes.
“Do they represent their…elemental stuff?” Brenna asked, suddenly subdued. “The old magic?”
“No,” Nana said. “Those marks are for who they *chose* to be. Not what the Goddess made them. There’s a difference.”
My throat felt tight as I tied the cord around my wrist, the beads settling warm against my skin.
“Thanks,” I said hoarsely.
Nana patted my arm. “Remember, little bird. Power is like a blade. It can cut you as quick as it can cut your enemy.”
“I don’t have a blade,” I muttered.
“You are the blade now,” she said simply. “The question is, who gets to wield you.”
My gaze flicked involuntarily toward the closed door. Toward the man I knew—without knowing how I knew—was waiting somewhere on the other side.
My mate.
The word still felt foreign. Heavy. Dangerous.
“Don’t let them wrap your hilt in their colors,” Nana continued. “Not the alpha, not the Luna, not that storm-eyed boy. You remember whose hand was on your back when you had nothing.”
Brenna bumped my shoulder. “Mine, mostly. Also Nana’s. And the kitchen ladle.”
Despite everything, a wobbly smile tugged at my mouth. “I remember.”
“Good.” Nana squeezed my arm. “Now go show them that their ‘worthless omega’ has better aim than their archers.”
“I don’t even have a bow,” I protested.
“Soon,” Brenna said ominously. “I saw Kellan carrying one to the yard. He looked way too excited.”
My stomach swooped.
“Kaia?” A different voice called from beyond the door. Young. Male.
“Yeah?” I yelled back, heart rabbiting.
The door cracked open.
A boy about my age poked his head in, light brown hair flopping into wide green eyes that immediately dropped to the floor when he saw all three of us looking at him.
“Luna said to fetch you,” he mumbled. “Training yard. Tier—uh, Alpha Voss is waiting. So is Gamma Kellan.”
His scent tickled something in my mind. Not attraction. Not command. Familiarity.
“Eren?” I blurted.
His head snapped up, eyes widening. “Kaia?”
Brenna squealed. “Pup! You got tall!”
Eren flushed to the roots of his hair. “Don’t call me that.”
He’d been twelve when I was fifteen, always trailing after the older warriors, begging them to spar with him. I’d helped him sneak extra bread from the kitchens once, and he’d decided we were friends. Then his wolf had come at sixteen, and he’d been swept into training. I hadn’t seen much of him since.
“Look at you,” I said, taking in the broader shoulders, the calloused hands, the faint scar across his chin. “Gamma trainee now, huh?”
He ducked his head, embarrassed. “Not officially. Yet.”
“She’s stalling,” Brenna sang under her breath.
I shot her a look.
Eren fidgeted. “We, uh. We shouldn’t keep them waiting.”
Cold slid into my spine.
“Right,” I said. “Let’s go get yelled at.”
Nana rapped my shin with the stick again as I passed. “Head high, girl. Let them learn to feel small for once.”
I tried.
The walk from the infirmary to the training yard felt both too long and far too short.
Wolves moved through the corridors and across the courtyard, carrying weapons, hauling water, talking in low, excited voices. Some stared as we passed. Some looked quickly away, as if eye contact might ignite me.
A pair of warrior girls I’d scrubbed armor for last week whispered behind their hands, their eyes big.
“Do you *feel* it?” one murmured. “Like the air’s got…teeth now, or something.”
“It’s just the Summit,” the other said, though her own gaze clung to me. “Everyone’s on edge.”
Eren bristled quietly at my side, as if he’d jump to my defense if someone said anything outright.
It made my chest ache and something else warm unfurl in my gut.
The training yard spread out beside the main house—a packed dirt oval now dusted with snow and ringed by wooden racks holding weapons. Two smaller rings lay beyond it for sparring, and to the right, a low building housed equipment and the warriors’ ready room.
I’d watched all of this from a distance for years—from open windows while I scrubbed floors, from doorways with a bucket in hand, from the omega paths that skirted the edge of the grounds.
Stepping onto the packed earth now felt like trespassing.
Dozens of eyes turned toward us.
Tiernan stood near one of the rings, arms folded, talking quietly with Kellan. He wore simple dark training pants and a fitted long-sleeved shirt, both clinging to muscles that made something in my lower belly tighten against my will.
Ashra hummed appreciatively. *We chose well.*
*We didn’t choose anything,* I snapped.
*The Goddess has decent taste this time,* she countered.
Kellan—Gamma Kellan—stood stiff beside him, his gray eyes assessing, his weather-creased face drawn into a line that could’ve been a frown or just his resting expression. He was in his late thirties, thickly built, with scars webbing his forearms and one ear half-bitten.
As we approached, Tiernan’s gaze locked onto me.
The world seemed to narrow.
His eyes swept over me in a quick, thorough inventory—taking in the training clothes, the way I favored my left side slightly, the tension in my shoulders, the cord around my wrist.
Approval flashed, brief and hot.
“You came,” he said.
“I’m not in the habit of ignoring orders from terrifying alphas,” I said lightly, because the alternative was acknowledging how something inside me had relaxed at the sight of him.
His mouth quirked. “I asked. I didn’t order.”
“That’s a technicality.”
“You’re feisty for someone who can barely walk straight,” Kellan observed dryly.
I stiffened.
Tiernan’s gaze cut to him, a warning flickering.
“It’s fine,” I said quickly. “He’s not wrong. I feel like a baby deer.”
“Wolf,” Ashra corrected haughtily.
*Shut up,* I told her.
Eren shifted uneasily at my shoulder. “Kaia was never good at the whole ‘graceful’ thing,” he muttered, attempting levity.
I elbowed him.
He grinned.
The tension around us eased incrementally.
Tiernan nodded toward the main house.
“Elyra will be here shortly,” he said. “She wants to see your first session. Rhys is in meetings with the other alphas, so we have a blessed hour without his…input.”
“Did you just nearly call my Alpha an ass?” I asked, surprised into a half-laugh.
“I was going to say ‘interference,’” he lied smoothly.
Kellan snorted.
“Before we begin,” Tiernan went on, “I want to set some parameters. For all of us.” His gaze included Eren, Kellan, and the handful of warriors hovering at the edge of the yard, clearly eager to watch.
“You can gawk later,” Kellan snapped at them. “Back to drills.”
A few groaned quietly, but none disobeyed. Within moments, the background noise shifted back to the rhythmic thud of fists on practice bags, the clash of wooden swords, the occasional grunt.
Tiernan stepped closer, dropping his voice so only the four of us could hear.
“First,” he said, looking at me, “if anything feels wrong—not just painful, but *wrong*—you tell me. Immediately. I don’t care if I’m in mid-sentence, mid-instruction, mid-anything. You do not push through it because you think you have something to prove. Understood?”
I bristled. “I’m not—”
“Understood?” he repeated more firmly.
I clenched my jaw.
*He’s right,* Ashra murmured. *We are volatile. Better to err on the side of not exploding.*
I exhaled. “Fine. Understood.”
“Second,” Tiernan continued, looking at Kellan now, “we go slow. I know you want to see what she can do in combat—”
Kellan’s lip curled fractionally. “I want to see if she can stand without falling over.”
“Exactly,” Tiernan said. “We start with basics. Shift control. Scent. Balance. We’re training a pup who never had the chance to learn to walk on four legs, *and* we’re dealing with an elemental surge pattern I’ve never seen in a wolf this young. If we skip steps, someone gets hurt.”
Kellan’s jaw flexed. Then he inclined his head, grudging respect in his gaze. “Agreed.”
“Third,” Tiernan said, looking back at me, “there will be no alpha-commands in training. From any of us. Not even for demonstration. You learn to obey because you choose to, not because we force your wolf’s knees to buckle. The only exception is if you’re about to blow and we need to shut you down to keep you alive.”
My heart thumped faster.
“And if I don’t agree?” I asked.
“Then we have a problem,” he said calmly.
Kellan grunted. “This is still *our* territory, Voss. She still answers—”
“To herself first,” Tiernan cut in, eyes never leaving mine. “Or she’ll never trust the power inside her. She’ll just fear it. And a wolf who fears her own magic is a danger to everyone.”
Kellan eyed him, then me, then finally nodded once. “We’ll try it your way. For now.”
Eren shifted, glancing between us like we were tossing a live coal.
“What about me?” he asked. “What am I doing here?”
“You’re her anchor,” Tiernan said.
We both stared.
“My what?” I blurted.
“Kaia’s going to be outnumbered,” Tiernan said bluntly. “Two alphas, a Gamma, a hall of watching warriors, a whole damn pack buzzing about what she might do next. That’s a lot of pressure on a new wolf. You’re…someone she trusts. Someone who isn’t ranked. Someone closer to her age. When things get tense, you talk to her. You remind her she’s more than a weapon. You keep her grounded.”
Eren’s ears went pink. “You think she trusts me?”
Tiernan’s gaze flicked to me.
Heat crawled up my neck.
“I trust you more than most,” I muttered. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Eren grinned, equal parts pleased and awkward. “Got it. Grounding. No pressure.”
“Lots of pressure,” Kellan said. “Don’t screw it up.”
“Very comforting,” Eren muttered.
I swallowed, my mouth dry.
“Any questions?” Tiernan asked.
“How long is this session?” I countered.
He studied me. “Why? Worried you’ll get bored?”
“Worried I’ll get hungry,” I said frankly. “Ashra keeps complaining she wants snacks.”
His eyebrows climbed. “Ashra?”
“My wolf,” I muttered.
His gaze went distant for a heartbeat, like he was listening.
Then he huffed a soft laugh. “She says you’re stubborn and dramatic and she approves.”
My jaw dropped. “She *what*?”
He smirked. “Bond perks.”
“Oh, absolutely not,” I said. “I told you—no coming into my head without—”
“Relax,” he cut in. “She was the one who pushed through. You’re not the only one with no respect for boundaries.”
Ashra purred smugly. *He can hear me. I like him.*
*Traitor,* I grumbled.
Tiernan’s eyes softened, amusement curling the corners. “You ready, stormheart?”
The nickname did something strange to my insides. I pretended it didn’t.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “But we’re here, so…let’s try.”
“Good answer,” he said.
We moved into the nearest ring.
The packed earth felt firmer under my boots than the snow had under my paws the day before. The faint chalk lines marking boundaries were half-worn, the ghosts of a thousand fights etched into the ground.
“First things first,” Tiernan said. “We see if you can shift on command. Or *at all* without nearly cooking yourself.”
My stomach clenched.
Yesterday had been…overwhelming. Pain and light and fire and terror all tangled together. The memory made my bones ache in anticipation.
“Most pups,” Kellan said, leaning on the fence, “have months to practice shifting. Little half-shifts. Heads. Hands. They do it under a full moon first, when the Goddess lends a little extra pull. You…” He tilted his head. “You went from zero to full wolf in the middle of a mess.”
“Like everything else in my life,” I muttered.
Tiernan stepped closer, his presence a steady heat at my side.
“I’ll be here,” he said quietly. “If it goes sideways, I’ll pull you back.”
“I thought we were avoiding alpha-commands,” I said.
“I didn’t say anything about mate-bond,” he replied.
Heat rushed to my face.
Kellan snorted. “Pull her back gently, Voss. If her parents’ wolves are anything to go by, pissing her off mid-surge would be…unwise.”
Tiernan’s jaw tightened. “I know what’s at stake.”
He held out a hand.
I stared at it.
“What,” I said dryly, “you think holding hands is going to make this easier?”
“Yes,” he said simply.
I opened my mouth to argue.
Ashra nudged me from inside, unexpectedly gentle. *Trust him. Just for this.*
My fingers twitched.
Slowly, I placed my hand in his.
Heat shot up my arm.
Not searing, not burning. Warmth. Solid and grounding and real. His aura brushed mine, not pushing, just…there. Like leaning against a stone in high wind.
“Close your eyes,” he murmured.
I did.
“Remember what it felt like,” he said. “Not the pain. The *after*. The moment when the fire settled and you realized you had four paws.”
I focused.
The first rush of memory was all agony and light, bones twisting, skin burning.
I pushed past it.
There—that flicker. The moment after the explosion, when I’d stood in the snow, the world suddenly *bigger*. Scents sharper. Sounds layer on layer on layer. The way the cold had felt…different. Less invasive. More like something my fur parted and shrugged off.
The way the earth had hummed under my paws, as if something deep and old was greeting me.
“It was…loud,” I whispered. “Everything. But there was this—this thread. Like a rope around my waist. Pulling.”
“Follow it,” Tiernan said softly. “It’s still there. You just have to find it again.”
Ashra stirred, stretching.
*About time,* she grumbled. *I was getting comfortable in here.*
*Help,* I thought.
A surprised huff. *You’re asking?*
*Don’t let it go to your head.*
She laughed, a molten sound.
*All right, Kaia. Do what stormboy says. Follow the thread.*
I breathed.
In.
Out.
The world narrowed to the feel of Tiernan’s hand, rough and warm around mine. The steady weight of his presence. The faint, sparking line that arced between our palms.
Then, beneath that, another line.
Thicker.
Deeper.
It ran down my spine, hooking somewhere behind my ribs, trailing down through my hips and legs and into the ground.
I brushed it with my mind.
It flared.
Heat unfurled in my chest, spreading out through my limbs. Not the scorching blaze of yesterday. A slow, rolling wave, like molten metal cooling into shape.
My fingers tingled. My toes cramped.
“Bones,” I whispered. “They’re…itchy.”
“Good,” Tiernan murmured. “Let it come. Don’t fight it. Don’t chase it either. Just…lean.”
I rolled my shoulders.
My skin prickled. My teeth ached.
I leaned.
The shift rolled over me.
It hurt.
There was no getting around that.
But this time, it was…manageable. Segmented. Bones lengthening, joints bending, spine stretching. Skin crawling, hair withdrawing and bursting forth in new patterns. My face…reshaping.
I dropped Tiernan’s hand halfway through, my palms flattening to the ground as fingers contorted, nails thickening into claws.
Someone cursed softly—Eren or Kellan, I wasn’t sure.
I rode it out.
When the world settled again, breath sawing harsh in my chest, I opened my eyes—and the colors were all wrong.
Too bright.
Too sharp.
Too *much*.
Snow on the far roofline glittered like a thousand tiny stars. Every flake that fell from the gray sky traced its lazy path through the air with crystalline clarity. I could see each hair in Tiernan’s beard, the tiny scar on his lower lip, the way his pupils had dilated.
He was close. Very close.
I lifted my head.
He stared down at me, awe raw and unhidden on his face.
“You’re…beautiful,” he said softly.
I snorted.
At least, I *tried* to snort. It came out a gusty huff that stirred his shirt.
“Careful,” Kellan said dryly from somewhere to my right. “You’ll inflate her already oversized ego.”
I turned my head.
He stood at the edge of the ring, arms folded, gaze sharp and intent. Eren hovered near him, eyes wide as saucers.
“Wow,” Eren breathed. “Kaia?”
I huffed again.
He grinned. “You’re *huge*.”
Ashra preened. *Finally someone appreciates us properly.*
*Don’t get used to it,* I muttered.
I got my paws under me and pushed.
Standing was…strange.
My bones knew what to do, even if my mind lagged. The ground felt different through pads instead of boots—damp and cool, each grain and pebble pressing into the tough skin. My tail—*I had a tail*—twitched behind me of its own accord, throwing off my balance.
“Oh, hell,” I thought.
Ashra laughed. *You’ll get used to it. Let me drive for a bit.*
I hesitated.
I’d always had to be in control.
Over my expression. My words. My posture.
Every mistake had been punished. Every deviance from expectation noted and used against me.
Letting someone else—*something* else—take the wheel, even partly, felt reckless.
*You don’t have to let go completely,* Ashra said. *Just…share. Think of it like dancing. You lead sometimes. I lead sometimes. Right now, you’re stepping on everyone’s feet.*
I glanced down.
Tiernan stood within arm’s reach—*neck’s* reach—one hand extended, not touching, just there. His aura was steady, offering support without smothering.
*Trust,* Ashra murmured.
My chest tightened.
“Fine,” I thought. “A little.”
I eased my mental grip.
Ashra slid forward—not a possession, not a takeover. More like she stepped up beside me in a shared space, her instincts filling in the gaps where my inexperience left us wobbling.
Our legs shifted into a more natural stance. Our weight distributed better over our paws. Our tail settled.
“There,” Tiernan murmured, approval warm in his tone. “Better.”
Kellan circled slowly, assessing. “She’s different,” he said, voice low. “Even from Mira and Darin. The…texture of her aura.”
He said it like he was talking about weather.
Tiernan’s eyes never left me. “Elemental alignments vary. We’ll need to see what triggers which aspects.”
“Elemental alignments,” I groused internally. “You make me sound like a storm chart.”
*You are a storm chart,* Ashra said happily. *Fire and lightning and maybe a little bit of wind if we’re feeling dramatic.*
“Can we…try moving?” Tiernan asked aloud. “Just walking. Slowly. Around the ring.”
I fixed him with a look.
He had the grace to look faintly sheepish. “I know. You’ve been walking your whole life. But your center of gravity has changed. Humor me.”
I sighed—a gusty, wolfish sound.
Then I took a step.
The first pawstrike landed too hard. Dirt sprayed. My shoulder bunched, muscles tensing unevenly.
Ashra adjusted. *Softer. Think of stalking. Not stomping.*
We tried again.
Step.
Step.
Step.
By the fourth, it felt more natural.
By the tenth, I wasn’t thinking about each paw. My body found a rhythm, the sway of spine and shoulders, the subtle shift of weight.
Wind slid through my fur, cool and icy. Scents washed over my nose in waves—sweat and leather from the warriors, smoke from the forge, pine from the forest, the subtle, rich note that was Tiernan.
My ears swiveled, catching the thud of fists on sandbags, the creak of wood, the murmur of voices.
I circled the ring, then another. The world was too sharp, too bright, but it was also…beautiful.
Joy flickered unexpectedly in my chest.
*See?* Ashra said smugly. *Not so scary.*
I huffed.
“All right?” Tiernan asked quietly as I passed him again.
I glanced at him, then dipped my head in a nod.
He smiled.
It did…things.
“Let’s try a trot,” Kellan suggested. “Nothing fancy. Just pick up the pace.”
We did.
My muscles rejoiced.
Speed felt…right.
The ache in my legs eased as they moved more quickly, the stretch and contract of tendons a relief. My paws found a rhythm, claws digging into the dirt, tail streaming out behind.
Bystanders began to notice.
Warriors paused their drills, eyes tracking us. Murmurs rose.
My chest tightened.
*Don’t look at them,* Ashra advised. *Look at him.*
Her mental nose tipped toward Tiernan.
He’d fallen into step just outside the ring, walking parallel, his strides matching my lope, his attention on *me* instead of the growing crowd.
I focused on him.
On the line of his shoulders, the way his hair fell into his eyes, the faint stubble along his jaw. The reassuring steadiness he radiated.
My breathing eased.
“Good,” he murmured. “Good, Kaia.”
We did three laps like that.
On the fourth, something shifted.
Heat tickled under my skin. A buzzing, fizzing sensation, like too much energy building with nowhere to go.
“Tiernan,” I thought, alarm prickling.
His head snapped toward me, eyes narrowing.
The air around us changed.
He stepped closer to the fence, his aura bracing mine. “Talk to me,” he said. “What does it feel like?”
“Pressure,” I said—both aloud, in a distorted wolf-huff, and mentally, where he could hear more clearly. “Like…static. My fur…”
Sparks—tiny, silvery—leapt from the tips of my fur, vanishing before they hit the ground.
Eren yelped. “She’s—”
“I see,” Tiernan said tightly. “Ashra?”
She yawned mentally. *New trick. Relax. We’re not going to fry anyone. Yet.*
“You’re crackling,” Tiernan said aloud, even as he sent a thread of worry through the bond. “Kellan—get everyone back. Clear the perimeter.”
Kellan snapped orders. Warriors scrambled, dragging training dummies and gear out of the ring’s immediate vicinity.
My heart hammered.
“Breathe,” Tiernan said. “Slow. In. Out. Don’t try to *stop* it. Just…notice.”
I inhaled.
Air rushed into my lungs, cold and sharp. I exhaled.
The static built anyway.
Sparks danced along my flanks, brighter now. The faint scent of ozone tickled my nose.
Panic scratched at my throat.
“What if I blow?” I thought frantically. “What if I burn something—someone—what if—”
“Kaia,” Tiernan cut in, firm. “Listen to me. Look at me. *Only* me.”
I swung my head toward him.
His eyes locked with mine.
The world narrowed again.
“Good,” he said. “Now. Remember yesterday. In the forest. You were out of control. Your power was ripping out of you. What stopped it?”
“You,” I said before I could think.
He blinked. “Yes, but *how*? What did it feel like when I stepped between you and the trees?”
“Like…” I searched for the words. “Like a rock in a river. The current hit and…split. Went around. Less violent.”
“Exactly.” He stepped closer to the fence, so close I could have reached through and touched him with my nose. “You can be that rock too. For yourself. You don’t have to let everything rush through at once. You can…shape it. Direct it.”
“I don’t know how,” I whispered.
“That’s why we’re here,” he said. “Ashra does. Let her show you.”
*Please tell me you know,* I thought desperately.
Ashra chuckled. *I am older than your pack’s oldest tree, pup. I know a few tricks. Turn your focus inward. Feel where the buzz is strongest.*
I did.
Along my spine. At the base of my skull. In my paws.
*Those are your outlets,* she said. *We’re an electric storm, Kaia. Our power likes to arc from high points to ground. Right now, it’s hunting. Let’s give it something safe to bite.*
“Safe?” I thought skeptically.
*Safer than a warrior’s face,* she snorted. *Think down. Into the ground. You want to discharge into the earth, not into the air. The earth can take it.*
I focused.
The buzzing sharpened into threads.
I imagined them as tiny veins of lightning, racing along my muscles, seeking escape.
Down, I told them, picturing them flowing from my spine into my legs, from my legs into my paws, from my paws into the packed dirt.
Nothing happened.
“Tiernan—”
“Patience,” he said quietly. “Try again. You’re not used to directing internal energy. It’ll come.”
I gritted my teeth—metaphorically. Wolves don’t grind, apparently.
Again.
Down.
I pictured the ground as a sponge, soaking up the excess. I imagined roots beneath the dirt, deep and twisted, hungry for light. I thought of storms I’d watched through grimy kitchen windows—the way lightning always sought the tallest tree, the highest point.
“Not the tree,” I muttered. “The ground.”
The energy shifted.
The sparks along my fur dimmed, flickering like dying fireflies.
A faint trembling ran through the earth under my paws.
Then—*crack*.
A thin, bright bolt of lightning leaped from my front paws into the ground.
Everyone jumped.
A jagged black line appeared in the packed dirt, smoke curling faintly from it.
My legs buckled.
I went down on my chest with a grunt, dazed.
“Kaia!” Eren yelled.
Tiernan was in the ring almost before I hit the ground.
He knelt beside my massive head, one hand on my neck, the other hovering near my muzzle, not quite touching.
“Breathe,” he said again. “In. Out. You’re all right.”
My heart hammered, but the frantic buzzing had eased. I felt…drained. Like I’d sprinted up the mountain and back.
“Did I…hurt anyone?” I asked, scanning the ring with my eyes.
No charred corpses. No smoldering warriors.
Just a smoking crack in the dirt and half a dozen wolves staring at me like I’d grown a second head.
“You scorched the ground,” Kellan said, sounding faintly impressed despite himself. “That’s it.”
“That’s it?” I echoed weakly.
Tiernan’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. “That’s all. No casualties. No accidental fires. That’s a win in my book.”
“I feel like my legs are noodles,” I complained.
“Storm noodles,” Eren corrected helpfully. “With extra crackle.”
“Eren,” Kellan said dryly, “please stop talking.”
He shut his mouth with an audible click.
Tiernan’s hand stroked down my neck once—slow, reassuring. My skin tingled under his touch.
“Can you shift back?” he asked gently.
I considered.
“I can try,” I said. “But if I end up half-wolf and half-girl, I’m haunting you.”
He smiled crookedly. “Deal.”
Ashra sighed dramatically. *Fine. Back we go. But I expect snacks afterward.*
Together, we followed the thread in reverse.
This time, it was easier.
Bones shrank, fur retreated, paws became hands and feet, muzzle flattening into a nose and mouth. I curled in on myself instinctively as my body rearranged, biting back a groan as joints popped and reformed.
When it was over, I lay naked in the dirt, cheek pressed to the warm patch where my lightning had struck, hair spilling around me in a tangled, bronze halo.
Tiernan had already shrugged off his outer shirt.
He draped it over me without comment, his gaze careful, not lingering.
Appreciative heat still crawled over my skin where his fingers brushed my shoulder.
“I’m good,” I croaked. “This is fine. The ground and I are one.”
Tiernan huffed. “You did well.”
I cracked one eye open. “I nearly fried your training yard.”
“You nearly *controlled* a lightning discharge on your first try,” he corrected. “Most elementals take weeks to learn to aim. Mira could barely keep from setting her own fur on fire at your age.”
I blinked. “You knew my mother?”
He hesitated. “Not well. I met her once, briefly. She and your father visited Stormwake on a diplomatic run with Elyra. I was twelve. She scared the shit out of me.”
Despite the ache, I laughed.
The sound was shaky but real.
Slowly, I pushed myself up to sitting, clutching the shirt closed across my front. The air bit my damp skin.
Warriors stared.
Kellan stepped forward, clapping his hands once. “Show’s over,” he barked. “Back to work. If I see anyone gossiping instead of training, I’ll have you running laps until your paws fall off.”
They scattered.
Eren lingered.
“You were amazing,” he blurted when no one of authority was listening. “I mean, terrifying. But amazing.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, weirdly shy.
“You’re still Kaia, though,” he added quickly. “Just with…bonus sparks.”
That.
That I needed to hear more than I’d realized.
My throat tightened. “You’re an idiot.”
He grinned. “You love me.”
“Regrettably.”
Tiernan watched the exchange with an unreadable expression.
Then his gaze shifted past us, toward the packhouse.
I followed it.
Luna Elyra stood at the edge of the yard, hands clasped in front of her, eyes thoughtful. Beside her, Beta Corin. His expression was tight, lips pressed so thin they almost disappeared.
Lyra hovered a step behind him, mouth slightly open, eyes wide and glittering.
She didn’t look jealous.
She looked…hungry.
Unease prickled my skin.
Tiernan’s jaw hardened.
“Again,” he said quietly.
I blinked at him. “What?”
“Not the lightning,” he amended quickly. “Not yet. The shift. We need to build your tolerance. In and out. Human to wolf. Wolf to human. Until your bones remember it the way they remember walking.”
My bones groaned in protest.
“You’re going to keep doing this until I puke, aren’t you,” I muttered.
He smiled faintly. “Probably.”
Ashra huffed.
*Bring it,* she said.
And so we did.
***
By the time Tiernan called a halt, my entire body trembled with fatigue.
We’d worked for hours—shifting, walking, small bursts of running, practicing sending tiny threads of energy harmlessly into the ground. No more flashy lightning strikes, just trickles, little sparks that made the dirt hiss.
It was exhausting.
It was also…weirdly exhilarating.
Every time I managed a controlled shift, Tiernan’s approval pulsed through the bond, warm and bright. Every time I directed a spark downward instead of letting it arc out randomly, Kellan’s curt nod felt like I’d passed some unspoken test.
Even Elyra’s faint, proud smile from the sidelines meant something.
But all of it paled next to the feeling in my own chest.
For the first time since I was eight, the yawning emptiness inside me felt…full.
Not crowded. Not smothered.
Filled.
Ashra stretched luxuriously, basking in my exhausted satisfaction.
*Told you,* she said smugly. *We were never meant to be small.*
“Water,” I croaked when Tiernan finally handed me a skin.
He chuckled. “Here.”
I gulped greedily, cold liquid splashing the corner of my mouth. Tiernan’s thumb brushed it away before I could react, the touch quick and gentle.
Heat flared under my skin.
Our eyes met.
The air between us changed.
His pupils darkened, flaring. A muscle jumped in his jaw. I felt it—a tug low in my belly, answering something in him.
For a heartbeat, it was just the two of us on the dirt. Sweat and breath and the faint hum of the bond.
Then someone cleared their throat.
We jerked apart like guilty teenagers.
Lyra stood near the fence, arms folded, expression carefully blank. Corin hovered just behind her, eyes sharp.
“Training seems to be going…well,” he said, voice slick with forced politeness. “Alpha Voss.”
Tiernan turned fully toward him, his own expression smoothing into something cool and distant.
“Beta Corin,” he said. “Enjoy the show?”
Corin’s smile tightened. “Watching a girl who used to scrub my boots throw lightning in the yard is certainly…entertaining.”
My hands clenched on the water skin.
Tiernan’s aura sharpened. “She’s still the same girl,” he said coolly. “She always had this in her. You just didn’t see it.”
“I *chose* not to see it,” Corin corrected. “For the safety of this pack.”
Tiernan’s lips thinned. “Funny. Looks to me like the danger wasn’t in her. It was in your choice to keep her ignorant.”
Corin’s eyes flashed. “You think you know better than a pack’s Beta how to protect his people?”
“In this matter?” Tiernan said. “Yes.”
Power coiled in the air.
I stepped back, my own heart slamming.
Lyra’s gaze flicked between them, bright and eager, like she hoped for a full-blown alpha showdown.
Elyra intervened before it could escalate.
“That’s enough,” she said firmly, slipping through the small crowd that had begun to gather again. “We are not airing our differences in the training yard.”
Tiernan’s shoulders eased minutely. “Luna.”
Corin inclined his head stiffly. “My apologies, Luna. I simply worry about the consequences of giving so much…leeway…to an untested elemental.”
“She is *tested* every time she breathes,” Elyra said sharply. “By us. By herself. And by the Goddess. We will not chain her again.”
Corin’s jaw clenched.
“Our pack’s reputation—”
“Will survive,” she cut in. “We hosted alphas whose wolves razed villages in their younger days. We can survive a girl learning not to singe the training yard.”
Her eyes softened as they turned to me.
“You did well,” she said.
“Thanks,” I said, not sure what else to say.
“Rest now.” She glanced at Tiernan. “Tomorrow again. But not so long. We can’t afford to drain her entirely every time we poke at her powers.”
Tiernan inclined his head. “Agreed.”
Kellan, who had been silently observing the exchange, stepped closer.
“Kaia,” he said gruffly. “You’ll join the warrior trainees’ runs in the evenings. Light at first. No sparring yet. Just…get used to moving with a pack at your back instead of a stack of dishes.”
Something in my chest tightened.
“Yes, Gamma,” I said quietly.
Eren bounced on his toes. “She can run with us? Really?”
Kellan grunted. “If she doesn’t trip over her own paws and kill someone, yes.”
Eren grinned at me. “You’re going to love it.”
I didn’t say that the idea of running with others—*belonging* in the ring of bodies instead of watching from the sidelines—made my throat ache.
I just nodded.
Elyra glanced at the sky. “Go,” she said. “Food. Rest. Your new room is ready, Kaia. Third floor of the training wing. Second door on the right. We can…talk later. If you wish.”
I wasn’t sure if I did.
But the offer was there.
“Okay,” I said.
Tiernan’s gaze followed me as I limped out of the ring, Eren at my side.
I felt it.
Hot as sun on the back of my neck.
I didn’t look back.
If I did, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to make myself walk away.
Ashra sighed dramatically. *Oh, little storm. This is going to be *so* complicated.*
She wasn’t wrong.
---