A month aboard the G.A.M.B.I.T. did not feel like a month on any sane world. Time passed differently when every day tried to rip you apart and put you back together stronger. Days blurred into drills, drills into bruises, bruises into improvement. The ship hummed with the endless rhythm of training cycles, weapons checks, instructor evaluations, alarms, gravity shifts, and the constant drone of thousands of cadets running in every direction doing their best not to die under Staff Sergeant Veldrak Sorn's creative guidance.
For Danny, the change felt like seasons turning inside his bones.
His golden power no longer erupted like wildfire at random. Now it flowed like a trained river—still overwhelming, still unimaginably vast, but edged in discipline. He could shape it, refine it, compress it. Spark a flame the size of a match without igniting half the hall. Cast a shield no thicker than glass. Send out a pulse that knocked back only a single drone. Not perfect control—not yet—but something close enough to feel like progress.
Swift had changed even more visibly. His movement, once a battle between draconic instinct and human limitations, now flowed with uncanny unity. He read combat the way others read text—scanning patterns, extrapolating outcomes, adjusting before an enemy even began to move. His human body no longer felt like a cage. It was a blade—small, sleek, and sharp.
Jake had become… Jake, but better. Stronger. Louder. A little more coordinated. His bronze flame had matured into something reliable and scalding. His stamina had doubled. He even screamed less—though he insisted this was not a personality change but a "strategic conservation of vocal resources." He was still chaos incarnate, but now he was purposeful chaos.
Shadeclaw moved through the training halls like a whisper made of knives. His steps made no sound. His shadow stretches grew longer, smoother, darker. His instincts sharpened until he could sense drone ambushes before drones existed. He learned new strikes, new feints, new vanishing tricks from Vos, and refined them into something uniquely his.
Jade's chi blasts grew tighter, denser, more explosive. What had once been street-brawler brutality was turning into refined hybrid combat—precision chi, controlled root positioning, and strike combinations that could stagger even heavy training drones. He still talked like a street gangster, but even his accent seemed stronger.
And Mira…
Mira was a contradiction of pride and frustration.
Her tactical mind had ascended to a terrifying level. She saw paths in chaos. She saw patterns in entropy. She directed her fireteam with absolute clarity, guiding them through simulations so complex other cadets failed them instantly.
But raw power?
Reflexes?
Physical gifts?
She was human.
Just human.
And the gap widened daily.
The chamber lights flickered above them, signaling the end of another full-squad training scenario. They had stormed a simulated fortress, retrieved hostages, neutralized drone platoons, and escaped under collapsing structures. Sweat poured down their faces. Danny's arms trembled slightly from controlled energy use. Swift rolled out a tightness in his shoulder. Jade wiped scorched chi residue off his knuckles. Jake lay flat on the ground, gasping. Shadeclaw perched on a railing as if gravity were optional.
Mira watched them.
No—she studied them.
Danny and Swift moved through cool-down drills at a speed she could barely track. Jade blasted a training dummy in half with a low-powered chi burst that still cracked the floor. Jake sat up and expended a small gout of bronze flame as if it were as casual as coughing. Shadeclaw vanished into shadow and reappeared behind Jade in the span of a heartbeat.
Mira touched her own chest.
Her heart beat strong…
…but human.
She was proud of them. Each of them. But that quiet truth inside her—the cold one—tightened its grip.
I am improving. But they are evolving.
The difference gnawed.
Vos had told her she was brilliant.
Sorn had told her she was terrifying.
Other cadets whispered that she was the mind behind two of the most promising squads on the ship.
But she felt it every time Danny caught a blow she couldn't see, every time Swift predicted a drone before it turned the corner, every time Shadeclaw melted into the dark.
The gap.
And for the first time since joining the Buddies, Mira felt something she'd never allowed herself to acknowledge:
Fear.
Not of dying.
But of being left behind.
The others began leaving the training hall when she realized she hadn't moved. She just stood on the catwalk, staring at the emptying chamber, eyes fixed on the spot where Shadeclaw had last landed.
"You linger."
The voice came from behind her—soft as shifting sand, steady as a predator approaching without intent to kill.
Shadeclaw stepped into view, tail low, ears alert, posture relaxed but focused entirely on her.
"I noticed," he said.
Mira didn't answer at first. Instead, she released a slow breath.
"You're all changing," she whispered. "Every day. Faster than I can calculate."
Shadeclaw tilted his head. "Change is good."
"For you," she replied. "You grow stronger. Faster. Sharper. You adapt like breathing. I learn, I improve, but I am not… like you."
Shadeclaw's nostrils flared faintly, reading her emotions.
"You scent discouragement."
She almost smiled. "I don't need a scent to tell you that."
He stepped nearer.
"You seek to keep pace."
She hesitated.
He waited.
Finally, she looked him in the eye—and this time she didn't blink.
"Do you remember your offer?"
Shadeclaw didn't pretend confusion. "To turn you. To make you shadowwolf."
"Yes."
He stepped closer, slow and deliberate.
"Do you still wish it?"
Mira inhaled sharply.
She meant to hesitate.
She meant to ask more questions.
She meant to weigh risks.
But the truth rose in her chest like a strike of lightning:
"I accept."
Shadeclaw stopped moving.
The world seemed to still.
"Mira," he said quietly, "the turn is not light. You will bleed. You will ache. You will lose part of what you know as yourself. It is power, and hunger, and instinct. It binds us. Are you certain?"
"Yes."
No hesitation.
No tremble.
No doubt.
Shadeclaw's eyes softened with something rarely seen on his face.
Respect.
"A bold choice."
"I need strength," she answered. "I need speed. Reflexes. Senses. I cannot be the weakest link when we're facing things like Bones and worse."
Shadeclaw's ears twitched at the name.
He circled her once, slow, purposeful, ritualistic.
"When?" he asked.
"Tonight," she said. "Before fear has a chance to argue."
Shadeclaw's teeth flashed in a quick, dangerous grin.
"Then come."
They waited until the lights dimmed for sleep cycle.
The G.A.M.B.I.T. hummed with night-mode hush, corridors running blue with soft underlighting. Most cadets were unconscious from exhaustion. Only a handful of night-shift personnel moved silently through the upper decks.
Mira followed Shadeclaw up an abandoned observation catwalk high above the primary training concourse. Down below, thousands of drones rested on charging racks, like metallic beasts sleeping under dim red glow. Above them, the stars outside the massive viewing panel shimmered coldly.
Shadeclaw stopped.
"Mira," he said, turning to face her, "after bite, you will feel heat. Rage. Sound will sharpen, sight will deepen, instincts will rise. Hold them. Do not let them rule."
"I understand."
Shadeclaw nodded once.
"Then say words."
Mira stabilized her breath.
"I, Mira of the Silent Vault," she said, voice steady, "accept the mark of the shadowwolf. I accept the blood. I accept the night. I accept the change."
Shadeclaw stepped close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath.
"Then I give," he said, "blood of pack. Blood of shadow. Blood of strength."
His claws rested lightly on her shoulders.
He bowed his head.
And then—
He bit.
Not savagely. Not wildly.
A single, precise, controlled puncture at the base of her neck, just above the collarbone—where the old bloodlines said instinct, spirit, and courage converged.
Mira gasped.
Heat flooded her veins—
Then darkness—
Then everything.
Her knees buckled, but Shadeclaw caught her before she hit the floor.
Her heartbeat slammed against her ribs. Her senses erupted in a storm of information—shapes, smells, vibrations. The hum of the ship became a roar, then softened into layers she could distinguish individually. She heard the heartbeat of every drone below. Every flicker of electricity in the lights. Shadeclaw's breathing next to her became impossibly loud and impossibly soft at the same time.
She saw her hands.
Her nails sharpened.
Her pupils stretched, narrowing.
Her muscles tightened, then loosened, then tightened again.
Breath trembled through her.
"Let it flow," Shadeclaw said, voice low.
Her bones ached—not breaking, not deforming, just shifting, responding to instinct she did not yet recognize. Every pulse felt like a distant drum.
Her vision brightened.
Her thoughts sharpened.
Her fear melted.
Her strength rose.
When she stood again, the world felt new.
Sharper.
Louder.
Clearer.
Shadeclaw stepped back once, tail flicking in something like approval.
"You stand strong," he said softly.
Mira touched her sharpened canines, marveling.
"I feel…"
The word caught.
She tried again.
"I feel powerful."
Shadeclaw grinned toothily.
"You are."
The chapter continues with Mira adjusting to her new senses, her first steps as shadowwolf, and her place in the team shifting forever.
Mira's first breath as a shadowwolf felt like inhaling a storm.
The air tasted alive—metallic from the ship's hull, faintly sweet from the recycled filtration, tinged with the ozone scent rising from the charging drones below. She had always been observant, always aware of her surroundings, but now she could feel the shape of the concourse in the vibration of the metal under her feet. Every distant whisper traveled through the ship's bones and into her own.
Her thoughts remained her own—sharp, controlled—but layered now with something new and primal, humming beneath the surface like a second heartbeat.
Shadeclaw watched her carefully, reading every shift in her stance, every tremor in her fingers.
"How much strength will I gain?" Mira asked quietly.
Shadeclaw shook his head. "Strength is not gift alone. Clarity. Instinct. Shadow. You will move before mind decides. You will see before eye looks. You will smell emotion, hear lies, sense danger through metal and distance."
Mira exhaled, steadying herself. "So… everything changes."
"Everything," Shadeclaw said. "And nothing. You still Mira. But more."
She touched her shoulder where his bite had marked her. The wound was already sealing—quick regeneration smoothing over skin that pulsed faintly with heat.
"What now?" she asked.
Shadeclaw stepped back, gauging her balance. "Now you test."
He moved suddenly—fast, a flicker of darkness darting across the deck.
Mira didn't think.
Her body reacted.
She twisted, stepping sideways at the perfect angle, Shadeclaw's claws slicing through air exactly where she had been. Her movement was fluid, precise, effortless.
Shadeclaw's eyes gleamed. "Good."
She blinked, startled by the ease of it. "I didn't— I didn't even plan. My body just—"
"Instinct," Shadeclaw said. "Shadowwolf blood speaks. Guides. Not control—guidance."
Mira's pulse quickened, but not out of fear.
This felt right.
This felt natural.
This felt like unlocking a part of herself she had never known existed.
Shadeclaw attacked again, this time from behind—soundless, fast, a blur of dark motion.
Before she fully registered his movement, her claws—her claws—were out, extended just enough to catch the blow. Metal screeched as they clashed. Mira pivoted, catching herself on the railing, and swung her leg through, sweeping at Shadeclaw's feet.
He leapt cleanly over her strike, tail whipping past her face.
Mira grinned—new sharp canines flashing.
She liked this.
She liked this a lot.
Shadeclaw noticed, and his grin widened into something dangerously approving.
"Welcome to hunt."
They sparred for several minutes—fast, silent, deadly. Mira adapted to each attack, learning with terrifying speed. Her movements weren't as refined as Shadeclaw's, not yet, but they carried the same sharpness, the same predatory line. Shadeclaw pushed harder, striking from directions she couldn't have defended against an hour ago.
But she defended.
Her reflexes were raw lightning. Her balance had recalibrated; her breathing synced to his. She felt each shift of pressure, each whisper of weight on the catwalk.
Finally, Shadeclaw dropped into a low crouch.
Mira mirrored him instinctively.
He blinked once, slowly, respectfully.
"You learn faster than any I have seen."
Mira wiped sweat from her brow. Her hand trembled, but only from the fading remnants of transformation energy.
"I'll train every day," she said. "I won't lose myself."
Shadeclaw stood. "You will not. You choose your path."
Mira's new senses pulsed outward again—hearing the distant rumble of cadet footsteps below, smelling the faint copper of coolant from the engine lines, sensing the flicker of a drone powering down across the hall.
Everything felt awake.
Alive.
Sharp.
And yet…
Centered.
"I thought it would feel… overwhelming," she admitted.
Shadeclaw shook his head. "Overwhelming comes later. Full moon phase. First run. First hunt. First rage. But now? Calm. Beginning."
A flicker of unease crossed Mira's face. "And the rage… will I hurt anyone?"
"If you train," Shadeclaw said, "you will control it. If you ignore, it will control you."
Mira straightened her shoulders. "Then I'll train."
Shadeclaw nodded once—approval in its purest form.
"We begin tomorrow."
They returned to their barracks quietly.
The door slid open with a hiss. The room was dark except for the faint blue night lights along the floor.
Jade snored loudly, curled around his pillow like it owed him money.
Jake drooled on his bunk, mumbling half-words like "no more gravity flips" and "why are the drones angry."
Swift slept calmly on his back, hands folded as if in meditation even in unconsciousness.
Danny, in contrast, slept sprawled across his bunk, one arm dangling, golden sparks flickering occasionally from his fingers as if he were dreaming about something powerful.
Shadeclaw paused in the doorway and motioned for Mira to follow quietly.
They moved inside without waking anyone.
Mira sat on her bunk, breathing slowly, letting her senses adjust to the quieter environment.
Shadeclaw remained standing for a moment, observing her carefully. "How you feel?"
Mira placed a hand over her heart. "Strong. Clear. A little… hot."
Shadeclaw nodded. "Blood settles in hours. Instinct adjusts in days. Control in weeks."
She nodded slowly. "Thank you."
Shadeclaw bowed his head ever so slightly. "You chose path. I only guide."
He moved toward his own bunk, then paused.
"Mira," he said quietly, "tomorrow… tell Danny and Swift. They care for you. They trust you. They must know."
Mira exhaled. "They'll accept it?"
Shadeclaw's tail swept the floor. "They will celebrate."
She smiled faintly. "Good. Then I will tell them."
Shadeclaw climbed onto his bunk, curling comfortably, tail wrapping around his legs.
The ship dimmed further.
Mira lay back on her mattress, eyes open, staring at the ceiling.
She could hear the hum of every wire.
She could smell the faint cinnamon scent that Danny seemed to carry naturally, the metallic ozone from Swift, the fiery bronze musk from Jake, the earthy chi-laced aroma from Jade, and the cold shadow-scent from Shadeclaw.
She closed her eyes.
Her heartbeat remained strong.
Steady.
Powerful.
And finally—finally—
She did not feel left behind.
She felt ready.
Ready for tomorrow.
Ready for the months ahead.
Ready for whatever Bones, the Dark Buddies, the universe, or fate threw at them.
She fell asleep with her claws curled gently into the blanket, instincts settling into place like a second soul merging with her own.
Mira was no longer just Mira.
She was shadowwolf.
And dawn—whatever dawn meant aboard a starship—would be hers to meet.