The fortress never felt so alive.
Even before dawn, the walls thrummed with energy—the bond between me, the triplets, and Ronan feeding the stones, the runes, the very air around us. My wolf shifted beneath my skin, restless, eager. The ritual had left a residue of power that made every nerve sharp, every muscle coiled.
Ronan led me to the lower training grounds, where the usual warriors waited. They were tense, expectant. The elders had allowed me to train openly now, but with one warning: "The Purge won't wait forever."
"I feel ready," I said, though my stomach twisted with anticipation. "I want to control it. To fight."
Ronan's golden eyes softened, just slightly. "Control first. Then strike. Patience does not mean weakness."
The training began with basic drills, testing my speed, reflexes, and precision. But this time, there was something new: offensive use of the bond.
"Focus on the triplets," Ronan instructed. "Feel their rhythm, their pulse. Let it guide your power outward, like a spear through the air."
I closed my eyes. Three heartbeats responded in perfect harmony, tiny pulses that grew stronger with each breath. The energy swirled around me, silver threads weaving outward, forming sharp edges that sliced through the air.
I unleashed it.
The wind tore across the ground, knocking over wooden dummies and sending sparks flying. My wolf growled in approval; even I could feel the raw force I had just summoned.
"Good," Ronan said, stepping closer. "But now make it precise. Target, not blast."
I focused again. This time, the energy coalesced into a spear of silver light, pure and lethal. It shot forward with a hiss, splitting the air and embedding itself in a training post with perfect precision.
"Excellent," Ronan said, pride laced with surprise. "You're learning faster than I anticipated."
I exhaled, sweat running down my face, heart still hammering. "I—We're connected. I feel them. They guide me."
"Yes," he said. "And that connection will save your life. And theirs."
A sudden horn cut through the morning air.
The training grounds froze. Guards shifted, hands on weapons. Even the wolves growled low.
"Alert!" someone shouted. "Scouts! Purge scouts at the eastern border!"
Ronan's expression hardened. "This is not a drill."
We moved immediately, the bond flaring, the triplets' pulses echoing through me. They knew. They were aware.
By the time we reached the eastern wall, the scouts were already visible—five figures clad in black, moving quickly but carefully, their weapons glinting in the early light.
"They're testing us," Ronan growled. "And trying to gauge your reaction."
I felt the bond hum. Three heartbeats, three guiding lights.
I didn't hesitate. My wolf surged forward, senses sharpened, energy flowing into my arms, my legs, my hands. I struck first. A wave of silver light shot out, cutting through one scout's path and sending him sprawling into the grass.
Ronan followed instantly, shifting mid-step into his Lycan form, massive and terrifying. He moved like a force of nature, intercepting another scout with a blow that shattered bones and armor alike.
The remaining scouts hesitated, shocked by the ferocity of our counterattack. I channeled again, this time more focused, shaping the energy into a whip of light that lashed at the attackers with precision. Two more went down, immobilized without a scratch to the fortress itself.
Only one remained—a tall, wiry figure with silver-tipped weapons. He met my gaze, smirk curling his lips. "So… this is the mother of the prophecy," he said, voice dripping with venom.
I growled, wolf and human in sync, and surged forward. The bond pulsed, the triplets' energy amplifying mine. Silver light wrapped around my fist, and I struck with perfect timing. He flew backward, crashing into the fortress wall, weapon shattered.
Ronan caught him mid-air, body coiling to crush the scout in his grasp. The man struggled, but the bond—our bond—kept him firmly under control.
When it was over, the scouts lay incapacitated, scattered across the grass. Not dead. Not yet. A warning.
Ronan shifted back into human form, brushing blood from his hands. His eyes met mine. "You controlled it," he said, voice low and intense. "You didn't just react. You led."
I exhaled, trembling with exhaustion and adrenaline. "I felt them," I whispered. "They guided me."
"Yes," he said. "And that is exactly what makes you dangerous."
I glanced toward the fortress, the walls, the triplets pulsing faintly within me. The bond hummed—powerful, aware, and ready.
But even as pride surged, unease crept in.
Someone inside the fortress had known about the scouts. The timing was too precise, the attack too calculated. And the triplets' awareness—while comforting—warned me that our enemies were learning. They were observing, analyzing, waiting for a flaw.
I turned to Ronan. "There's someone here," I said. "Someone watching. Preparing."
He narrowed his eyes. "I know."
The bond flared between us, warm and insistent. "Then we prepare," I said.
"Yes," he said. "And we stay ahead."
We walked back toward the fortress, the fallen scouts at our backs, the triplets' pulses steady and guiding. My wolf relaxed slightly, but the awareness lingered—danger was closer than any of us wanted to admit.
Inside the fortress, I caught a fleeting glance of someone in the shadows—an unfamiliar guard, standing too still, watching too carefully.
Lyra's sharp voice cut through my thoughts. "Another one," she whispered. "Inside."
Ronan's hand found mine again, fingers tight, protective. "We'll deal with them," he said. "Together."
The Purge had made its first move.
But so had we.
And for the first time, I felt the full weight of what that meant:
I was no longer just a mother hiding in shadows.
I was a warrior.
A bond-bearer.
And with Ronan—and the triplets—we were unstoppable.
Yet one thought lingered in the back of my mind, cold and sharp:
The fortress itself was not entirely safe.
And the real war had only just begun.