Moonlight Reckoning
Ayra's muscles burned long before dawn broke.
She had lost count of how many times Liora had made her repeat the stance feet apart, knees bent, spine straight, breath controlled. Every time Ayra thought she had it right, Liora's staff would strike the dirt beside her heel or tap sharply against her shoulder, forcing a correction.
"Again," Liora said, her voice calm, merciless.
Ayra clenched her jaw and adjusted her footing. Sweat ran down her spine, soaking the thin fabric of her tunic. The early morning air was cold, but her body was on fire.
"I did it right that time," Ayra muttered.
Liora's silver eyes flicked to her. "You survived it," she corrected. "That doesn't mean it was right."
Ayra exhaled sharply through her nose and reset her stance.
The clearing they trained in lay far from the pack's center, hidden by ancient trees and thick brush. No one came here unless they were invited or desperate. Liora had chosen the place deliberately.
No witnesses. No gossip. No mercy.
"Again," Liora repeated.
Ayra moved.
She shifted her weight, pivoted, and struck imaginary opponent, imagined threat. Her arms sliced through the air, her muscles screaming as she followed through. For a brief moment, something inside her aligned. Power hummed beneath her skin, subtle but present, like a heartbeat she was only just learning to hear.
Then Liora's staff hooked her ankle.
Ayra yelped as she lost balance and hit the ground hard, breath knocked from her lungs.
"Too slow," Liora said.
Ayra lay there, staring at the pale sky through the canopy of leaves, chest heaving. Anger flared hot, bitter, familiar.
"I wasn't slow," she snapped, pushing herself up on her elbows. "You just..."
"You hesitated," Liora cut in. "That will get you killed."
Ayra sat up fully, dirt clinging to her palms. "I'm not fighting to the death."
Liora's gaze sharpened. She stepped closer, staff tapping once against the ground. "You don't get to choose that."
The words landed heavier than the fall.
Ayra swallowed. She looked away, jaw tightening. "I didn't ask for any of this."
"No," Liora agreed quietly. "You didn't."
For a moment, silence stretched between them, thick with things neither of them said. Then Liora turned away.
"Get up," she said. "Again."
Ayra pushed herself to her feet, legs trembling. She wanted to scream. To throw the staff into the trees. To ask why Liora pushed her this hard, why she looked at her like she was already bracing for Ayra's funeral.
But she didn't.
Instead, she breathed. In. Out. Like Liora had taught her.
Again.
By the time the sun fully rose, Ayra's body felt like it no longer belonged to her.
They paused near the stream that cut through the clearing. Ayra knelt, scooping water into her hands and drinking greedily. The cold shocked her senses, grounding her.
Liora stood a few paces away, watching the treeline not Ayra.
"You're holding back," Liora said.
Ayra choked slightly on the water. "Excuse me?"
Liora turned, studying her the way she studied weaknesses. "Your strikes. Your breathing. You pull back at the last moment."
Ayra wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Maybe I don't want to hurt anyone."
"That's not what I'm talking about."
Ayra frowned. "Then what?"
Liora approached slowly, crouching so they were eye level. Up close, the lines on her face were more visible old scars, both physical and otherwise.
"You're afraid of what happens if you don't," Liora said.
Ayra's fingers curled into the damp earth. "You don't know that."
Liora's mouth twitched, not quite a smile. "I know it because I've been there."
Ayra hesitated. "Been where?"
Liora straightened abruptly. "Enough questions."
Ayra stared at her. "You tell me to trust you. You train me like my life depends on it. But every time I ask why"
"Because knowing too much too soon breaks people," Liora said sharply.
The edge in her voice surprised Ayra.
Silence fell again. The stream murmured softly, indifferent.
Ayra stood. "I can handle the truth."
Liora's eyes darkened. "That's what everyone thinks."
She turned away, signaling the end of the conversation. "We move to endurance."
Ayra sighed under her breath but followed.
They ran.
Through the forest. Over uneven ground. Past fallen logs and thorned underbrush. Liora set a punishing pace, never slowing, never looking back.
Ayra struggled to keep up. Her lungs burned, legs aching with every step. Several times, she nearly tripped. Each time, she forced herself forward.
She would not fall behind.
Not again.
Memories rose unbidden standing in the pack circle, heart in her throat, hearing the Alpha's rejection echo through her bones. The looks. The whispers. The way the ground had seemed to tilt beneath her feet.
Weak. Unwanted. Replaceable.
Her breath hitched.
She pushed harder.
Something stirred inside her chest, warmer this time. Stronger.
Ayra didn't notice at first.
Not until the world seemed to sharpen around her the rustle of leaves louder, scents richer, her body responding with frightening ease.
She gained on Liora.
Liora noticed.
She slowed, then stopped abruptly, turning just as Ayra nearly collided with her.
"Stop," Liora said.
Ayra skidded to a halt, confused, breath ragged. "Why?"
Liora's gaze swept over her, intense. "How do you feel?"
Ayra blinked. "Tired?"
Liora raised an eyebrow.
Ayra frowned, focusing inward. Her heartbeat was steady. Strong. The ache in her muscles had dulled, replaced by a strange energy humming beneath her skin.
"…Different," Ayra admitted.
Liora nodded once. "Good."
"What was that?" Ayra asked. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No," Liora said. "You did something right."
Ayra stared at her. "You're not going to explain that, are you?"
"Not yet."
Ayra groaned. "You're impossible."
Liora's lips curved slightly. "You're learning."
They returned to the clearing as the sun climbed higher. Ayra collapsed onto a fallen log, exhausted but restless, energy still coiled tight inside her.
Liora stood before her, staff planted in the ground.
"Listen carefully," she said. "What you felt just now that was instinct awakening. Not power. Not yet."
Ayra straightened. "Instinct?"
"Your body remembering what it was made for," Liora said. "You've been suppressing it. Out of fear. Out of pain."
Ayra's throat tightened. "Because of the rejection."
"Yes."
The word hit harder than Ayra expected.
Liora continued, voice steady. "Rejection fractures more than the bond. It teaches you to shrink. To doubt your right to exist."
Ayra swallowed hard, looking down at her hands. "I didn't choose to be rejected."
"No," Liora said softly. "But you can choose what it makes of you."
Ayra looked up. "And if I fail?"
Liora met her gaze. "Then you get up.
Again."
The simplicity of it stole Ayra's breath.
She nodded once. "Okay."
Liora turned away, satisfied. "We continue tomorrow."
Ayra blinked. "That's it?"
"For today," Liora said. "Your body needs time to adapt."
Ayra hesitated. "Liora?"
She paused.
"Why are you really helping me?" Ayra asked.
Liora didn't turn around. "Because no one helped me."
Then she walked away, leaving Ayra alone in the clearing, heart pounding not with fear, but with something dangerously close to hope.
Ayra did not leave the clearing immediately.
She sat there long after Liora disappeared into the trees, the echo of her mentor's words replaying in her mind.
Because no one helped me.
It wasn't pity Ayra felt she knew better than that. It was recognition. A sense that whatever scars Liora carried, they ran deep enough to shape the way she trained, the way she watched, the way she never softened her voice even when concern flickered in her eyes.
Ayra exhaled slowly and rose to her feet.
Her body protested as she stretched, muscles tight and sore, but beneath the ache lingered that strange, coiled energy. It made her restless. Alert. As though part of her had woken up and refused to sleep again.
She made her way back toward the pack grounds carefully, avoiding the main paths. Old habits. Being unseen had become second nature after the rejection.
As the pack's scent thickened around her, so did the tension.
Whispers followed her everywhere now. She didn't need to hear them to know they were there.
Rejected.
Broken.
Useless.
Ayra kept her head down and her pace steady.
She had nearly reached her small, isolated dwelling when she felt it.
A presence.
Her steps slowed.
The air shifted subtle, but unmistakable. Ayra's instincts flared, sharp and sudden. Her heart began to race, not with fear, but with awareness.
She turned.
Nothing.
The trees stood still, leaves rustling softly. No sound of footsteps. No scent she didn't recognize.
You're imagining it, she told herself.
Still, the feeling didn't fade
She continued forward, every sense on edge now. The closer she came to her home, the stronger the pressure became, like unseen eyes tracking her movement.
Ayra stopped again.
"Show yourself," she said quietly.
Silence.
Her jaw tightened. She inhaled deeply and caught it.
A scent she hadn't expected.
Alpha.
Her blood ran cold.
She spun toward the source just as a figure stepped out from behind a tree.
He was tall. Broad shouldered. Familiar in the way nightmares were familiar.
The Alpha.
The same one who had rejected her.
Ayra's pulse thundered in her ears. Every instinct screamed at her to run, to bow, to submit.
She did none of those things.
Instead, she straightened.
"What do you want?" she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.
The Alpha studied her in silence. His gaze was sharp, assessing, lingering longer than it should have.
"You've changed," he said finally.
Ayra clenched her fists. "That tends to happen."
His lips twitched not quite a smile. "I heard you've been spending time away from the pack."
She lifted her chin. "I'm allowed to."
"Yes," he agreed slowly. "But not unnoticed."
Anger sparked in her chest. "I'm not doing anything wrong."
"I didn't say you were."
The pause stretched.
Then he stepped closer.
Ayra's body reacted instantly muscles tightening, instincts flaring. She forced herself to stay still.
"Careful," she said quietly. "You forfeited the right to stand that close to me."
Something dark flickered in his eyes.
"You speak boldly for someone without protection," he said.
Ayra met his gaze. "I have protection."
The Alpha's eyes narrowed. "From whom?"
Ayra thought of Liora. Of the staff striking dirt beside her feet. Of the merciless training. Of the way her mentor looked at her like survival was the only acceptable outcome.
"From myself," Ayra said.
The Alpha studied her for a long moment, then gave a low chuckle. "We'll see."
He turned and walked away, vanishing into the trees as quietly as he'd appeared.
Ayra stood there long after he was gone, her heart racing.
Only when the scent fully faded did she release the breath she'd been holding.
That was new, she thought.
She wasn't supposed to feel this way around him. She wasn't supposed to stand her ground.
Something was changing.
And it terrified her.
That night, Ayra dreamed.
She stood beneath a silver moon, its light heavy and alive, pressing down on her skin. Chains wrapped around her wrists not iron, but glowing, pulsing with power.
She pulled.
The chains resisted, burning her skin.
Then a voice echoed through the clearing.
Again.
She looked up.
Liora stood at the edge of the light, staff in hand, expression unreadable.
"Break them," Liora said.
Ayra strained harder, pain lancing through her arms. "I can't."
"You can," Liora replied. "You're choosing not to."
The chains tightened, cutting into her flesh.
Ayra screamed.
And woke up.
She sat bolt upright, gasping, sweat soaking her skin. Moonlight filtered through the small window of her dwelling, pale and cold.
Her wrists burned.
Ayra stared down at them and froze.
Faint, glowing marks ringed her skin, already fading.
Her breath caught in her throat.
"No," she whispered.
She swung her legs off the bed and stumbled to the small mirror by the wall. The marks vanished as she watched, leaving smooth skin behind.
But the memory of pain remained.
Ayra pressed a hand to her chest, heart pounding.
That wasn't just a dream.
At dawn, she returned to the clearing early.
Liora was already there.
She didn't look surprised to see Ayra. She never did.
"You're late," Liora said.
Ayra swallowed. "I had a dream."
Liora's gaze sharpened instantly. "Describe it."
Ayra hesitated, then did every detail, every sensation, every word spoken beneath the moon.
When she finished, silence fell.
Liora's expression had changed. The hardness was still there but beneath it, something like concern flickered.
"This is happening sooner than I expected," Liora murmured.
Ayra's stomach twisted. "What is?"
Liora met her eyes. "Your awakening."
Ayra's breath caught. "That doesn't sound good."
"It isn't," Liora said honestly. "But it's inevitable."
Ayra steadied herself. "Then train me harder."
Liora studied her for a long moment.
Then she nodded.
"Good," she said. "Because from today on, I stop holding back."