-Asher-
The courtyard felt too quiet once Alexia, Finn, Soren, and even Zeus followed the Headmistress inside. The silence pressed at my ears, thick and suffocating, and for a moment I hated how empty the space suddenly seemed.
Kira and Jasper lingered near the edge of the fountain. I caught Jasper glancing at her like he wanted to speak but didn't know how. She didn't notice—or maybe she didn't care. She kept staring after the others, her hands knotted tight, her fire dimmed but not gone.
I turned away before I could watch it all play out. It wasn't my problem. Not right now. My skin was already crawling, my blood buzzing under my veins, and I knew if I stood there any longer, I'd choke on it.
So I left.
I didn't say a word. Didn't look back. My boots carried me across the courtyard and down the worn path toward the training grounds. The old stone wall greeted me like an old rival, scarred with years of fists and blades and magic. Tonight, it would have to be enough.
The second I stepped into the circle of dirt, I rolled my shoulders, cracked my knuckles, and let the restless energy start to bleed out.
I planted my fists against the padded post, the first strike jarring through my bones. Another followed, harder, sharper. My breath came rough, and with each punch, I imagined the Council's smug faces, the way they spoke of binding, of control, as if we were dangerous animals that needed cages.
Maybe they weren't wrong.
I hit harder.
The post groaned beneath the force, the padding already tearing. My fists blurred, and somewhere deep in my chest, a growl rumbled free. Not human. Not quite. It clawed at my throat like it wanted to be more, wanted to spill into the night.
I forced it down. Barely.
Sweat slicked across my skin as I shifted my stance, snapping a kick into the post, then another. My body moved on instinct—fists, elbows, knees—raw and vicious, a rhythm older than training drills. A rhythm closer to the wolf than the boy.
My vision sharpened. The world narrowed to each impact, each thud of flesh against unyielding wood. I could hear the wind cutting across the grass, the scratch of insects in the brush, even the faint shift of Jasper's voice in the distance. Too far to make out words, but close enough that my ears twitched toward it.
I didn't stop.
Couldn't.
Every strike kept the coil in my chest from snapping. Every growl in my throat kept me from breaking apart. My fists split the air, faster, harder, until the edge of my claws pressed against the surface of my skin. I glanced down once, just enough to see the faint glint where nails threatened to lengthen. Not fully. Not yet. But close.
Too close.
I slammed my fist into the post again, ignoring the sting. The pain anchored me, reminded me that I was still here. Still in control.
Mostly.
I drew in a ragged breath, sweat dripping down my jaw, and dropped into a crouch. My muscles burned, my heart hammered, but it wasn't enough. It never was. The wolf inside me didn't settle with exhaustion—it prowled, restless, pacing in circles, waiting for the moment I slipped.
That was the truth the Council would never understand. They thought bindings, accords, laws, could leash something like me. But a leash only worked if the beast allowed it.
I spat into the dirt, straightened, and drove another kick into the post, hard enough that it splintered. The sound echoed through the grounds, sharp as a crack of thunder.
For a heartbeat, I let myself imagine it was the Council's walls splintering.
The thought almost made me smile. Almost.
My breath steadied in slow, ragged pulls. I wiped the sweat from my brow with the back of my arm and glanced at the shattered post. Useless now. I'd pushed too hard. Again.
I leaned against the wall, tilting my head back to stare at the sky. Clouds drifted across the fading light, gray and heavy, promising a storm. My chest heaved, but the weight inside me didn't lift.
Alexia was probably sitting across from Shade right now, planning, thinking, fighting in her own way. She had Finn's unwavering loyalty, Soren's calm precision, Zeus's wild spark. Me? I had my fists, my wolf, and the knowledge that if I lost control for even a moment, Whisperwind would see me as nothing more than a monster.
Maybe they already did.
The thought cut sharper than any strike I'd thrown tonight.
A sound pulled my head up—distant footsteps. Light. Hesitant. Jasper's, probably, or maybe Kira's. I didn't care enough to check. Whoever it was, they weren't coming closer. Not yet.
Fine by me.
I pushed away from the wall, flexing my sore hands, and exhaled. The fight wasn't here. Not yet. But it was coming. I could feel it in my bones, the way the wolf shifted restlessly under my skin, the way every muscle in my body thrummed with anticipation.
The Council thought they could turn Whisperwind into a cage. They thought they could force bindings, surveillance, fear into every corner of these walls.
Let them try.
Because if they came for us, they'd learn the truth—
I wasn't just another student.
I wasn't just a boy.
I was a storm waiting to break.
And when it broke, no Council, no Accord, no binding spell in the world would hold me.