Chapter 2

A L I N A

... 10 hours earlier ...

The training grounds are alive with anticipation, the air thrumming with energy as I face off against the warriors of House Xalveria. They are the best, handpicked by my father himself—highly skilled, highly ranked, and ruthless. Their platinum and black attire gleams in the sunlight, the modern cuts of their battle attire sharp and tailored, deadly silver swords in their hands. Even without armour, they are a sight to behold, formidable and terrifying...

Just like I am. Even when I am the only one here without a weapon. But that's the thing...

I am the weapon.

I stand before them, dressed in black and grey training attire, slowly circling them as my eyes lock onto a target. I take a deep breath, centring myself as the first warrior steps forward. His stance is good, but his expression is wary yet determined. The others form a loose circle around us, their blades glinting like liquid light. I can feel their eyes on me, waiting, judging.

Unfortunately, we had to train with the one thing that could bring the most harm to us. Silver. In this day and age, humans know of our existence, and Hunters are the biggest threat to our survival. We had to be able to defend ourselves against it... and each other. Unfortunately, Hunters aren't our only problem, sometimes it was Rogue werewolves, being who didn't believe in the hierarchy of the noble families. I wish I could say the Kingdom of Lycania was living in peace, but there is always something our people have to face. Whether it was outsiders, or ourselves...

Though Lycans are much more powerful than regular Wolves and can not be killed by silver, it still brings us great harm. So we had to know how to protect ourselves, and fight against it. The only thing that can kill a Lycan is Rezionite, a rare mineral that is often metal. It is so rare, that it is only possessed by the royal families of Lycania...

In a matter of seconds, the duel begins with a flash of silver. My first opponent moves quickly, his sword slicing through the air with precision, but I’m faster. Another thing we had to fight with. Swords. As Lycans, we rarely needed to shift into our Wolf forms because of how much power we already had in our human forms. So I dodge, sidestepping his attack with ease, the tip of his blade missing me by a hair’s breadth. His frustration flashes across his face, a hesitation, one I use to my advantage.

Pivoting sharply, I disarm him with a swift upward strike, sending his sword clattering to the ground, meters away from us. Before he can recover, I step back, raising my own blade in a silent challenge to the next warrior.

They don’t make me wait.

One by one, they come at me, their movements precise, their attacks relentless. I don’t falter. Each strike they make, I evade. Each opening they leave, I exploit. My body moves on instinct, a blend of training and pure, primal instinct.

The air around me shifts, a biting chill radiating outward as I scan the warriors around me, all of them getting up and gathering themselves, all of them ready to attack me at the same time. And that's when I decide, this is the perfect opportunity to release the power I've been holding back... And so I take in a deep breath and focus on the power and surges within me, and soon, a fierce, icy wind surges from me in every direction, cold and howling as it cuts through the training grounds. The ground beneath me freezes instantly, a slick sheet of glimmering frost spreading in a wide circle.

Only few in the House Xalveria had special abilities, and these people were considered the strongest of wolves. I happen to be one of them...

Swords fall from hands as the warriors stumble, their footing lost on the treacherous ice. The cold bites at their skin and that's when I move my arms in an outward motion, causing the wind to spread at a wide radius, sending the warriors flying meters away from me, their silver blades clattering to the frozen ground as they all groan in pain. I stand at the centre, the storm fading as quickly as it came as I gather myself and look around at them.

I should feel victorious, but the exhilaration of the fight is already fading, replaced by a familiar tension...

That's when I hear his voice, and I already know... he's furious.

“Enough!” my father’s voice rings out, cold and commanding.

I turn to see him standing at the edge of the training grounds, his platinum and black robes billowing in the breeze as he approaches me. Lord Alinos of House Xalveria. His gaze is sharp, his expression harder than the frozen ground beneath me.

“That display was reckless,” he says as he approaches, his tone cutting through the air like a blade. “You were showboating. Your exercise today was defence, not offence.”

I bristle, my hands forming into fists as I stand before him. “I disarmed all of them without so much as a scratch..." I answer him stubbornly. I had always had a complicated relationship with my father. He wanted me to be just like him and made me train relentlessly, every single day. I'm grateful to an extent, but it made me realise that I can't keep up with his expectations of me.

“You disarmed them because they let you,” he snaps. “Do you think Hunters will hesitate? Do you think they’ll give you room to dodge and dance? You need to be better than this, Alina. Smarter.”

My wolf stirs at the reprimand, the instinct to challenge him rising unbidden. In Lycania, there are smaller Werewolf packs, with Alphas, Beta and Gammas, but in the noble family, there are only Lords and Ladies, whose authority supersedes that of an ordinary Alpha.

“Smarter?” I echo, my voice steady but laced with defiance. “Was it not smart to read their movements? To exploit their weaknesses?”

“It was reckless to rely on speed alone,” he counters. “One mistake, one miscalculation, and you’d be bleeding out on this field. Silver doesn’t care how fast you are... and you're forgetting, silver can also kill Lycans...”

The mention of silver sends a chill down my spine. He’s right, of course, but admitting it feels like conceding defeat.

Before I can respond, the air around us grows colder. Not from the weather, but from me.

I don’t realise what I’ve done until the frost begins to creep across the ground, delicate tendrils of ice spreading outward from my feet. The warriors step forward, murmuring in alarm, their breaths visible in the sudden chill. My father’s expression darkens.

“Alina,” he says sharply, his voice as cold as the ice around me...

Oh no, I'm losing control... not again...