Alex couldn't stop thinking about his mother.
The journal lay open on the table in front of him, pages filled with her careful handwriting, her fears pressed into ink. Every word felt heavier now. Every warning felt personal.
I wanted you to choose your own life.
The words echoed in his mind as he trained.
Mara didn't go easy on him anymore.
"Again," she said, knocking him to the ground for the third time in under a minute.
Alex rolled, barely stopping himself from slamming into a concrete pillar. He pushed back to his feet, breath ragged, muscles screaming.
"I'm trying," he snapped.
"You're hesitating," Mara replied. "Because you're afraid of becoming her."
Alex froze. "You don't know what I'm afraid of."
Mara stepped closer, her voice lowering. "I know exactly. Every Warden reaches this point. The moment they realize the blood doesn't just give power—it demands sacrifice."
Alex clenched his fists. The mark burned, not painfully, but insistently.
That night, he dreamed.
He stood in the same rooftop from his mother's memory. The city below was burning. Wolves howled from every direction. Humans ran, screaming. And standing between it all—his mother, bloodied but unbroken.
You can't protect everyone, she said gently.
"I have to," Alex replied.
She shook her head. You only have to protect what matters.
Alex woke with tears in his eyes and resolve in his chest.
The next day, he trained harder than ever—learning restraint as much as strength. He learned how to stop a blow inches from bone. How to read intent in heartbeats. How to choose mercy without hesitation.
Rafe watched from the shadows.
"He's changing," Mara said.
"He has to," Rafe replied. "The city won't survive another war fought without a Warden."
Alex finished the session on his knees, exhausted but steady.
He wasn't trying to replace his mother.
He was trying to honor her.
And for the first time since the mark awakened, the weight on his shoulders felt bearable.
Because he was no longer carrying it alone.