Training began at dawn.
Not the kind with sweat and sparring—Kael made that clear immediately. Lyra stood in the eastern tower room again, the carved symbols faintly glowing in the early light. Mira watched from the doorway, arms folded, calm as stone.
"First lesson," Kael said, voice even, "is restraint."
Lyra nodded quickly. "I'm good at that."
His mouth twitched. "You're good at surviving. This is different."
He placed a shallow bowl of water between them. "Focus on the feeling you had by the willow. Don't reach for it. Invite it."
Lyra closed her eyes. She breathed. The warmth came—not rushing, not wild. The water rippled, light threading beneath the surface like moon-silk.
"Good," Kael murmured. "Now stop."
She did. Instantly.
Mira lifted a brow. "That was faster than yesterday."
Lyra opened her eyes, surprised. "It listened."
Kael's gaze sharpened—not fear this time, but calculation. "It will. Until you're afraid. Power hates fear."
The lesson ended early. Too early.
Because the Elders arrived.
They did not knock.
Kael met them in the council chamber alone, shutting the doors with deliberate finality.
"She's progressing," he said before they could speak.
"That's precisely the problem," Elder Rask replied. "Word has reached us. Light in water. The old symbols responding."
"You said you needed proof," Kael snapped. "Now you have it."
"We needed proof to prepare," Rask countered. "Not to be cornered. Other packs will sense this."
Kael's jaw tightened. "Then we fortify."
"And provoke?" another Elder said. "You're an Alpha, not a king."
Kael leaned forward, hands braced on the table. "If you move against her, you move against me."
Silence fell—heavy, dangerous.
"Then be warned," Rask said finally. "The Ashen Vale scouts crossed our borders last night."
Kael stilled. "That pack hunts relic blood."
"Yes," Rask said. "And Nymphs are relics."
Kael left the chamber already moving.
Lyra was in the courtyard when he found her, helping Mira grind herbs. She looked up, smiling faintly—then saw his face.
"What's wrong?"
"We're moving you," he said. "Now."
Her smile faded. "I did something wrong?"
"No," he said firmly. "You did something right. And someone else noticed."
A horn sounded—low, distant. Not Nightfang's.
Kael pulled Lyra gently but decisively behind him as wolves shifted around the perimeter. The air carried a foreign scent—smoke and iron.
"The Ashen Vale," Mira whispered.
Lyra's heart raced, but beneath it, the warmth steadied her—stronger than before. She placed a hand against Kael's back without thinking.
He felt it.
"Stay with me," he said, low and urgent. "Whatever happens—stay with me."
She nodded. "I will."
At the border, shadows moved.
And for the first time, Lyra's power didn't just stir.
It answered.