~Akilah's pov
The hallway stretched endlessly before me.
Black obsidian gleamed beneath my bare feet, reflecting the faint golden light that spilled from the engravings along the walls. Intricate patterns twisted through the dark stone, forming lions, curling vines, and unfamiliar symbols that seemed to shift whenever I looked at them directly.
Beyond the engravings, strange technological structures had been built into the walls. Thin lines of blue light ran through their metallic surfaces, pulsing like veins beneath skin. Every few steps, a crystal panel flickered to life before dimming again.
It was beautiful.
And unsettling.
I didn't know where I was.
I only knew I had to keep walking.
My footsteps echoed through the empty hall, each one swallowed by the silence that followed. There was no one in sight—nothing to suggest that anyone had occupied this place.
Yet something about it felt familiar.
I slowed.
My gaze traveled over the walls, the golden engravings, the towering pillars that rose toward a ceiling too high for me to see clearly.
I had seen this place before.
I was certain of it.
But where?
I continued forward, turning a corner into another corridor. The walls here were decorated with portraits, each enclosed in elaborate golden frames. Some depicted fierce-looking men and women wearing royal garments. Others showed warriors standing beneath enormous banners, their weapons raised toward skies filled with unfamiliar constellations.
I passed them without stopping.
Until one painting caught my eye.
I took another step.
Then stopped completely.
The portrait hung between two obsidian pillars, its gold frame decorated with tiny blue stones. It was larger than the others, wide enough to display an entire family seated together.
A man stood at the back.
He had dark locs that fell past his shoulders, a powerful build, and the kind of stern expression that made it difficult to imagine him ever smiling in public.
My breath caught.
Beside him stood two boys.
The older one had the same dark eyes and sharp features as the man behind him. He stood tall for his age, wearing a miniature version of the ceremonial garments the man wore.
My gaze moved to the younger boy.
His curls were a little unruly, his expression serious in the way only children could manage when they were desperately trying to imitate adults.
My lips parted.
I took another step closer.
And then I saw her.
In the center of the portrait sat a woman with dark curls arranged beautifully around her face. She wore a flowing golden gown, and the delicate jewelry at her throat caught the light. Her smile was soft, her eyes warm, her entire expression filled with a tenderness that seemed to spill beyond the painted canvas.
My mother.
My knees nearly gave way.
She held a baby in her arms.
A tiny baby wrapped in pale blue fabric, fast asleep against her chest.
I moved closer until I stood directly in front of the painting.
The baby couldn't have been more than a few days old.
I knew that face, too.
My face.
I leaned forward, lifting a trembling hand toward the canvas. My fingertips hovered over the painted baby's cheek before gently tracing its outline.
A strange ache opened inside my chest.
I had seen photographs. Portraits. Pieces of my childhood carefully preserved by people who remembered my mother better than I could.
But this was different.
The painting captured a moment I could never remember for myself.
My mother holding me.
My father standing behind her.
My brothers gathered around them.
A family before death had taken something from us that could never truly be returned.
I stepped back.
"No," I whispered.
The word barely made it past my lips.
I looked around the hallway again, my gaze moving over the familiar carvings, the golden lion motifs, the blue lights embedded in the walls.
Suddenly, I understood.
I wasn't in some strange place.
I was home.
I was in the royal palace of Felinara.
My heart began to race.
I spun around and ran.
The corridor blurred as I hurried past the portraits, my bare feet striking the obsidian floor. I knew these halls. I knew the turns, the pillars, the long windows overlooking the gardens.
I had walked through them as a child.
I had run through them with Azai and Miro.
I had followed my mother through them, trying to keep up with the sweep of her gowns.
I had spent years trying to remember the sound of her laughter.
And now I was here.
I turned sharply around a corner and nearly stumbled before catching myself against the wall.
At the end of the corridor stood a pair of enormous golden doors.
I approached them slowly, suddenly afraid of what I might find on the other side.
My fingers curled around the handle.
I pushed.
The doors opened with a low, familiar creak.
I stepped inside.
For a moment, I couldn't move.
The room was enormous, but its size wasn't what held me captive.
It was the blue.
Deep sapphire, soft sky blue, and shades of midnight were woven through the room in ways that made it feel as though someone had captured the heavens and built them into a private sanctuary.
Blue silk curtains framed the towering windows. Golden embroidery traced the edges of the fabric, forming tiny stars and crescent moons. The furniture was carved from dark wood with delicate gold detailing, while the polished floor reflected the soft light of the chandeliers above.
A wide bed stood against the far wall, dressed in blue and white linens. Its canopy was decorated with golden vines, and small blue crystals hung from the corners, catching the light whenever they moved.
On a nearby table sat a collection of books, their spines worn from years of use. Beside them rested a familiar jewelry box, its lid decorated with a golden lion.
I crossed the room slowly.
Everything was exactly where it belonged.
Even the little things.
The curtains I had once insisted were too dark.
The books I had abandoned halfway through reading.
The chair beside the window where I used to sit whenever I wanted to be alone.
Or the engraved ceiling above showing the sun surrounded by fathers before.
My throat tightened.
I turned toward the opposite wall.
There, above a low cabinet, hung an enormous painting of a young woman dressed in blue and gold.
She stood with her chin lifted, her dark hair falling over one shoulder, and a small, confident smile playing at her lips.
Me.
The painting had been commissioned when I turned eighteen.
I remembered the day it had been completed. Miro had laughed at how serious I looked, Azai had told him to shut up, and my father had insisted the artist had captured my eyes perfectly.
First ever compliment he had given me in years.
I had complained that the dress was too extravagant.
My mother would have laughed.
The thought struck so suddenly that I closed my eyes.
When I opened them, the room was still there.
My room.
My home.
My childhood, preserved in a place I had left behind.
"Miro?"
My voice sounded strange in the silence.
I turned toward the open doorway.
"Azai?"
Nothing.
I stepped into the hallway.
"Azai!"
My voice traveled down the corridor.
No answer came.
I hurried toward the staircase, gripping the railing as I descended.
The palace remained silent.
I passed the grand sitting room, the royal library, and the enormous windows overlooking the gardens. Every door I opened revealed another empty room.
No servants.
No guards.
No brothers arguing over something ridiculous.
No father waiting in his study with a stack of reports he would insist on finishing instead of having dinner with his children.
The palace was completely deserted.
A cold feeling settled in my stomach.
"Is anyone here?"
My voice cracked.
I hated the sound of it.
I was a princess of Felinara. I had survived challenges designed to break me, and stood my ground against a Lycan prince who seemed determined to make my life miserable.
Yet standing alone in my childhood home, I felt painfully small.
I turned another corner.
That was when I noticed it.
A faint orange glow flickering beneath a door at the end of the hall.
I stopped.
My heart began to pound.
I walked toward it slowly, each step making the silence feel heavier. When I reached the door, I hesitated before placing my hand on the handle.
What if I opened it and found no one?
What if I opened it and found something I wasn't ready to see?
I swallowed.
Then pushed.
The hinges creaked.
The room beyond was bathed in warm gold.
I stepped inside.
I knew this room, too.
My parents' bedroom.
Unlike mine, with its shades of blue and silver, this room was dressed in gold, cream, and ivory. Heavy curtains framed the windows, their embroidered edges catching the light of several lamps. A wide bed stood in the center beneath an ornate canopy, its cream-colored sheets perfectly arranged.
A golden vase filled with fresh flowers stood beside the bed.
The room was immaculate.
I walked farther inside, my eyes moving over the familiar furniture.
The vanity stood near the windows, its surface polished until it gleamed. Several small containers were arranged neatly across it, beside a silver brush and a delicate jewelry stand.
I stopped.
Something blue caught my eye.
A ring.
I approached the vanity, my breathing suddenly shallow.
The ring lay beside a small golden jewelry box. Its band was delicate, its center stone a deep, luminous blue that seemed to hold light within its depths.
I knew that ring.
I had seen it on my mother's hand countless times.
I remembered the way it caught the sunlight when she reached for me. I remembered tracing the stone with my tiny fingers while she held me in her lap.
But that wasn't possible.
The ring had been buried with her.
I had watched my father place it in her hands before the casket was closed. I remembered the blue fabric, the flowers, the unbearable stillness of the room.
I remembered being too young to understand why everyone was crying.
So why was it here?
My hand trembled as I picked it up.
The stone felt warm against my palm.
A soft giggle sounded behind me.
I froze.
It was a small, familiar sound.
A sound I had spent years trying to remember.
Slowly, I turned around.
And the world stopped.
A woman sat in the chair beside the bed, a book resting in her lap.
Her dark curls framed her face.
Her golden-brown eyes were warm.
Her smile was the same one I had seen in the portrait.
My mother.
Alive.
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
The book closed gently in her hands.
She looked at me as though I had merely been away for a few hours.
"Akilah."
My name.
The way she said it.
Soft. Familiar. Filled with a tenderness that reached into places I had spent years trying to protect.
I took a step backward.
My mother rose from the chair.
I shook my head, my fingers closing around the ring.
"No, no, this isn't—"
She began walking toward me.
I stepped back again until my shoulders struck the vanity.
"Don't come closer."
The words came out broken.
She stopped.
Her expression softened.
"Oh, my baby."
My eyes burned.
I hated how quickly the tears came. Hated how my body recognized her before my mind could convince itself that this wasn't real.
"You're dead," I whispered.
Her face changed.
Not with anger.
With sadness.
"I know."
I stared at her.
She looked exactly as I remembered her from the portraits, but somehow more real. There were tiny lines near her eyes when she smiled. A faint dimple appeared in her cheek. The fabric of her dress shifted softly as she moved.
She was here.
She was standing in front of me.
My mother.
I had imagined this moment so many times that I had stopped allowing myself to do it.
I had imagined what I would say if I ever saw her again. How I would tell her about the things she had missed. How I would ask whether she was proud of me. Whether she knew how much I had struggled to remember her voice.
But now that she was here, every word disappeared.
My mother lifted her hand slowly.
"May I?"
I couldn't answer.
I could only stare as she reached toward me.
Her palm settled against my cheek.
Warm.
Gentle.
Real enough that a sob escaped me before I could stop it.
The first tear slipped down my face.
Then another.
My mother brushed them away with her thumb.
"Oh, sweetheart."
That was all it took.
I threw my arms around her.
She caught me immediately, wrapping me in an embrace so familiar that my knees nearly gave out.
I buried my face against her shoulder.
She smelled like flowers and warm sunlight.
Like the memory I had carried for years without knowing whether it was real.
I clutched the back of her dress, terrified that if I loosened my grip, she would disappear.
"I missed you," I choked out.
My voice broke.
"I missed you so much."
Her arms tightened around me.
"I know, my love."
"I don't remember everything."
The confession came out in a rush.
"I remember pieces. Your voice sometimes, but I'm never sure if it's really yours. I remember your hands. I remember you singing, but I can't remember the words. Sometimes I try so hard to picture your face that I can't tell whether I'm remembering you or looking at your portraits."
I pulled back enough to look at her.
Tears blurred her face.
She cupped my face between both hands.
"I know."
"I needed you."
Her lips trembled.
"Oh, Akilah."
"I needed you to be there."
I hated how childish I sounded.
I didn't care.
For years, I had carried the grief of a little girl who couldn't understand why her mother had disappeared. Growing older hadn't erased it. Becoming stronger hadn't erased it. Nothing I had achieved could replace the simple, impossible wish to have her back.
My mother pressed her forehead against mine.
"I am sorry, sweetheart."
I held her tighter.
For a little while, neither of us spoke.
I simply let myself be her daughter.
Not a princess.
Not a Vanguard recruit.
Not a girl caught between a dangerous bond and a boy who seemed determined to hurt her.
Just her baby.
Eventually, I pulled away enough to look at her.
She smiled through her own tears.
"Look at you."
Her hands moved to my hair, gently sweeping it away from my face.
"My beautiful girl."
I let out a trembling laugh.
"You're going to make me cry again."
"Then cry."
She brushed her thumb across my cheek.
"You have spent enough time pretending you don't need to."
She looked at me for a long moment, taking in my face as though she were trying to memorize every detail.
"You've grown so much."
"I wish you could have seen it."
"I have seen more than you know."
Something about the way she said it made me still.
Before I could ask what she meant, the warmth in her expression shifted.
Concern settled across her face.
Her hands remained on my cheeks, but her grip became firmer.
"Akilah, listen to me."
I straightened.
"What is it?"
"You must never let it in."
I frowned.
"Let what in?"
Her eyes searched mine.
"Whatever happens, no matter what anyone tells you, you must not let it in."
"Mother, you're not making sense."
"It will try."
Her voice trembled, though she seemed determined not to let her fear reach me.
"It will try with all its power to become a part of you. It will make you believe that you need it. That you cannot survive without it."
My stomach tightened.
"What will?"
She shook her head as if struggling to find the words.
"It will use what you love. It will use what you fear. It will find every crack in your heart and try to make a home there."
I stared at her.
A cold sensation crept along my arms.
"Mother, what are you talking about?"
She took a breath.
"It will consume you, my love. It will take every light you have until there is nothing left but darkness."
I could barely hear her over the pounding of my heart.
"Then tell me what it is."
Her eyes shone.
"He is becoming strong again."
The room seemed to grow colder.
"Who?"
"He is getting stronger. Strong enough to return."
My grip tightened around the ring.
"Who is getting stronger?"
She looked toward the door.
For the first time, she seemed frightened.
Not for herself.
For me.
"But when the time is right," she whispered, looking back at me, "you will be ready."
I shook my head.
"No. You don't get to tell me something like that and refuse to explain."
"Akilah—"
"Who is he? What is coming back? What am I supposed to keep out?"
She opened her mouth.
I stepped forward.
"Please. I've spent my whole life not knowing enough. I don't want another riddle. I want you to tell me the truth."
Pain crossed her face.
"Oh, my darling."
She touched my cheek once more.
"Our time is almost over."
My heart dropped.
"What?"
"You must go back."
"No."
The answer came immediately.
She gave me a sad smile.
"Sweetheart—"
"No, I'm not leaving."
I grabbed her hands.
"Please. I just found you."
"I know."
"Then let me stay."
Her eyes filled with tears.
"I cannot."
"Why?"
"Because this is not where you belong."
I shook my head violently.
"I don't care."
"I do."
She squeezed my hands.
"I care enough to let you go, even when every part of me wants to keep you here."
My throat closed.
"Mother, please."
She smiled at me, and the tenderness in her expression nearly broke what remained of my composure.
"We will meet again."
I stared at her.
The words felt familiar.
Not because she had said them before, but because something in me recognized them.
"When?" I whispered.
"When the time is right."
My breath caught.
The same words.
The same promise.
I wanted to ask a thousand questions.
I wanted to demand an explanation, to make her tell me what she knew about the darkness and who was growing stronger.
But the room began to change.
The golden light dimmed.
Fine particles lifted from the edges of the curtains, shimmering like dust caught in sunlight.
I looked around.
"What's happening?"
My mother stepped back.
"No."
I reached for her.
"Wait."
The edges of her dress began dissolving into tiny golden flecks.
"Mother!"
She smiled, though tears slipped down her cheeks.
"I love you, Akilah."
I rushed forward.
"Don't do this!"
"I have always loved you."
Her figure began to fade.
I reached for her hands, but my fingers closed around empty air.
"Please!"
She looked at me one last time.
"You are more than enough, my beautiful girl."
I shook my head, crying openly now.
"Stop! Please, don't leave me again!"
Her smile trembled.
"And when he finally understands what you mean to him, remember this: you will not need to become less of yourself to be loved."
I froze.
"Who?"
But she was already disappearing.
"He will be there when you face the darkness," she whispered. "His love will be a light, but you must find your own first."
My heart hammered.
"I love you."
Her voice grew faint.
"Always."
I lunged forward.
My hands closed around nothing.
The last thing I saw was her smile.
Then she dissolved into dust.
The bed vanished.
The vanity disappeared.
The golden walls crumbled into particles of light.
Everything was gone.
I stood alone in a void of darkness.
"Mother?"
My voice echoed.
Nothing answered.
I turned in a circle, searching for even a trace of the room.
Nothing.
Only darkness stretched endlessly in every direction.
Beneath my feet, a thin layer of water rippled outward.
I looked down.
The surface was black, reflecting nothing.
My breathing became uneven.
I had been here before.
The realization settled over me with a terrible certainty.
A small blue light flickered beside my foot.
I looked down.
A familiar fish emerged from the darkness, its translucent body glowing softly as it swam through the water without disturbing the surface.
The little creature circled my ankle.
My breath caught.
"You."
The fish flicked its tail, swimming ahead of me before turning back.
I knew what came next.
Slowly, I turned around.
A white glow illuminated the darkness behind me.
The Moon Goddess stood several feet away, her floor-length white gown flowing around her as though moved by an invisible breeze. Her face shone with an ethereal light, and her expression held the same quiet, ancient patience I remembered.
The blue fish swam between us.
I stared at her.
Then, despite the ache still lodged in my chest, a small smile touched my lips.
"It was really nice seeing her again."
The Moon Goddess regarded me for a moment.
"You resemble your mother."
My smile trembled.
"I know."
"More than you realize."
I lowered my eyes.
The memory of my mother's hands against my cheeks returned with such force that my chest tightened again.
"Was that really her?"
The Goddess did not answer immediately.
"Some truths reach us in ways the waking mind cannot understand."
I looked up sharply.
"That isn't an answer."
"No," she agreed. "It is not."
I almost laughed, though there was no humor in it.
The Goddess moved closer.
"You were given a moment you have longed for."
"I was given a moment, and then it was taken away."
"Some gifts are not meant to be kept."
I swallowed.
"Then why show me?"
Her glowing eyes held mine.
"Because you needed to remember."
"Remember what?"
"That you are loved."
My throat tightened.
I thought of my father. My brothers. Nadira's fierce loyalty. The people who had stood beside me when everything seemed determined to knock me down.
Then I thought of Kael.
His cruel words.
The way he had looked at me after telling me I meant nothing.
The kiss I couldn't forget.
The way he had turned around and kissed Seraphina.
"Your mother's love is not a chain tying you to the past, Akilah. It is a part of you. You do not have to see her to carry it."
A tear slipped down my cheek.
I wiped it away quickly.
"Why did she warn me about the darkness?"
The Goddess remained silent.
"She said something was getting stronger. That it would try to become a part of me."
Still nothing.
"Who is he?"
The water rippled around us.
I stepped closer.
"Please. I need to know."
The Moon Goddess lifted her hand and rested it gently on my shoulder.
Her touch was warm.
Familiar.
"You will meet her again when the time is right."
"My mother said the same thing."
"I know."
"Then tell me what it means!"
My voice cracked across the darkness.
The Goddess didn't flinch.
"When the time is right," she repeated softly.
I stared at her, frustration and grief twisting together inside me.
"Everyone keeps telling me that. My mother. You. What am I supposed to do until then?"
"Live."
I blinked.
"Live?"
"Learn. Grow. Become the woman you are meant to be. Do not spend so much time searching for the shape of the darkness that you forget to strengthen your own light."
I wanted to argue.
I wanted answers.
But before I could speak, the glow surrounding her began to intensify.
The light became blinding.
I covered my eyes with both hands.
"Wait!"
And then—
I woke with a gasp.
I jolted upright, my heart pounding so hard it hurt.
For several seconds, I couldn't breathe properly. I stared at the familiar walls of my dormitory, my hands gripping the sheets as though I needed them to keep myself anchored.
I dragged in a shaky breath.
Then another.
My gaze darted toward the bedside table.
The clock glowed softly in the darkness.
4:03 a.m.
I stared at it.
"Of course."
My voice sounded hoarse.
I fell back against the pillows and pressed both hands over my face.
It had been a dream.
It had to have been.
But I could still feel my mother's hand against my cheek.
I could still remember the warmth of her embrace.
And I could still hear her voice.
You must never let it in.
I lowered my hands.
What was I supposed to keep out?
I turned onto my side, pulling the blanket closer.
I tried closing my eyes.
Nothing.
Every time I drifted toward sleep, I saw my mother's face dissolving into golden dust.
I rolled onto my back again.
The ceiling stared down at me.
Somewhere beyond my window, the academy grounds remained quiet beneath the last hours of darkness.
I thought about the Goddess's final words.
Do not spend so much time searching for the shape of the darkness that you forget to strengthen your own light.
I swallowed.
Fine.
I would figure it out.
Whatever was coming, whatever my mother had been trying to warn me about, I would find the answers.
But not right now.
Right now, I needed sleep.
My eyes grew heavy.
The room blurred.
And just before I drifted off, one thought settled in my mind.
When the time is right.
By the time Vanguard training began, I had slept for approximately two hours and forty minutes.
Which explained why I was currently considering whether falling into one of the academy's training pits would be a reasonable way to avoid the rest of the morning.
It was not going well.
Not at all.
"Again!"
Kael's voice cut across the training grounds.
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Because apparently the universe had decided that after giving me a dream about my dead mother and an ominous warning about some mysterious darkness, I needed to be humbled by a Lycan prince with anger management issues.
Perfect.
Absolutely perfect.
I dragged myself back to the starting line.
The obstacle course stretched across the training grounds, a brutal arrangement of suspended beams, rope climbs, narrow platforms, weighted carries, and sharp turns designed to test speed, balance, strength, and endurance.
Normally, I loved this kind of training.
I was quick on my feet. My balance was excellent, and I could navigate tight spaces with little difficulty.
The course should have been easy.
Instead, I was performing as though I had never trained a day in my life.
I misjudged the first turn and struck my shoulder against a padded barrier.
I stumbled on the narrow beam.
I lost my grip on the rope.
And when I finally reached the weighted carry, my arms shook so badly that I could barely keep the load off the ground.
Every mistake seemed to make the next one worse.
My thoughts kept drifting back to the dream.
My mother's face.
Her warning.
The darkness.
The Moon Goddess.
He is becoming strong again.
Who was he?
What did she mean by letting it in?
Why had she looked so frightened?
"Akilah!"
I jerked my head up.
Kael stood near the final section of the course, a clipboard in one hand and a deeply unimpressed expression on his face.
"Are you planning to finish today?"
A few students laughed.
Heat crawled up my neck.
I wiped the sweat from my forehead.
"Yes."
"Then move."
I ran.
The next obstacle required me to swing between two platforms before landing on a narrow surface and changing direction.
I reached for the first bar, swung forward, and landed badly.
My boot skidded.
I caught the edge before falling, hauled myself up, and continued.
"Your corners are too wide!" Kael shouted. "You're wasting time!"
I gritted my teeth.
"I know!"
"Then fix it!"
I made the next turn tighter.
Too tight.
My shoulder clipped the barrier again.
A frustrated groan escaped me.
Someone muttered, "How is she even on Vanguard?"
Another voice answered, "Maybe Coach Rhyder made a mistake."
I pretended not to hear them.
Usually, I could ignore it.
Today, every word seemed to find its way beneath my skin.
Taylor wasn't here.
He had council responsibilities, which meant I couldn't look toward him for a reassuring smile or a quiet joke when I needed one.
Darien wasn't here either.
I was alone with my exhaustion, my thoughts, and Kael.
A truly unfortunate combination.
I reached the rope climb.
My hands were already slick with sweat.
I wrapped my legs around the rope and pulled myself upward.
Halfway up, my arms began to shake.
I stopped to adjust my grip.
"Keep moving!" Kael barked.
"I am moving!"
"Then move faster!"
I pulled myself up another foot.
My muscles burned.
The rope swayed.
I gritted my teeth and climbed the rest of the way, reaching the platform with a gasp.
When I dropped onto the other side, my legs nearly buckled.
I kept going.
The final section was a weighted carry.
A heavy metal frame sat on the ground, loaded with enough weight to make even some of the stronger recruits struggle.
I crouched and gripped the handles.
Then lifted.
My arms immediately protested.
I forced myself upright.
One step.
Two.
Three.
The frame dragged against the ground when I turned.
I adjusted my stance and continued, my breathing becoming ragged.
The finish line was only a few metres away.
I could do this.
I had to.
My arms trembled violently.
The weight dipped.
I tried to correct it, but my footing slipped.
The frame struck the ground with a heavy clang.
I stared at it.
For one awful second, I couldn't make myself move.
Then I forced it up again.
My vision blurred at the edges.
I took another step.
And another.
When I finally crossed the finish line, I dropped the frame and collapsed onto my knees.
My hands hit the ground.
I bent forward, breathing through my mouth, trying desperately to get enough air into my lungs.
Sweat dripped from my chin.
My arms felt as though they had been torn from their sockets.
I wanted water.
I wanted a shower.
I wanted to go back to bed and wake up tomorrow when my brain had stopped trying to destroy me.
Instead, I heard footsteps approaching.
I didn't have to look up.
I knew who it was.
Kael stopped in front of me.
"Stand up."
I kept my head lowered.
"Give me a second."
"Stand. Up."
I lifted my face.
He looked furious.
I stared at him through the strands of hair stuck to my forehead.
"I'm trying to catch my breath."
"And the rest of the team is trying to train."
I glanced toward the others.
Several were watching us.
A few looked annoyed.
Kael threw his clipboard onto the ground beside me.
The sharp crack made me flinch.
"You're dragging everyone down."
Something inside me went very still.
He folded his arms.
"You've missed turns you normally clear without thinking. You've fallen behind on obstacles you've already completed successfully. You're losing time at every stage, and the team has to repeat the course because you can't get through it properly."
I stared at him.
He continued.
"What exactly is going on with you?"
I looked away.
"Nothing."
"Clearly."
"Then why ask?"
His eyes narrowed.
"Because I'd like to know whether you're going to start taking this seriously."
My head snapped back toward him.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
I pushed myself to my feet, ignoring the way my knees trembled.
"I've been taking this seriously."
"Really? Because your performance says otherwise."
I laughed once.
"My performance?"
"Yes, your performance."
He gestured toward the course.
"This is Vanguard, Akilah. Not a place where you get to show up whenever you feel like it and expect everyone to carry you."
My face burned.
"I haven't asked anyone to carry me."
"Then stop making it look as though you need them to."
I stared at him.
For a moment, I couldn't find anything to say.
And suddenly, I was standing on a training ground, exhausted and humiliated, listening to a boy who had already made me question my worth tell me I wasn't good enough again.
Something inside me snapped.
"You know what?" I said, my voice rising. "I've had enough."
Kael's expression hardened.
"Of what?"
"Of you!"
The words rang across the training grounds.
Every conversation stopped.
I didn't care.
"You've spent the entire morning shouting at me as though I'm deliberately trying to ruin your precious training session!"
"Because you're not paying attention!"
"Maybe because I haven't slept properly!"
The confession burst out before I could stop it.
Kael's expression flickered.
Only for a second.
Then his jaw tightened.
"That isn't an excuse."
"I didn't say it was!"
"Then stop acting like it is!"
I stepped toward him.
"You don't get to stand there and act like you know everything about me!"
"And you don't get to expect me to lower the standards because you're having a bad day!"
"A bad day?"
My voice cracked with disbelief.
"You think this is just a bad day?"
"I think you're distracted, and instead of correcting it, you're letting it affect the entire team."
"Maybe you should try being a coach instead of acting like a tyrant!"
Someone behind us sucked in a breath.
Kael went still.
His eyes turned dangerously cold.
"Watch your mouth."
"Or what?"
The question escaped me before common sense could catch it.
I was too tired to care.
Too angry to be afraid.
Too hurt to keep pretending his words didn't affect me.
"Go on," I challenged. "Tell me what happens if I don't."
His nostrils flared.
"You think this is a game?"
"No. I think you enjoy making people miserable."
A muscle jumped in his jaw.
"You have no idea what you're talking about."
"Then enlighten me!"
My voice echoed across the field.
"Because from where I'm standing, you seem to think that just because someone isn't up to par it gives you the right to humiliate them!"
"I expect you to do your job!"
"And I expect you to stop treating me like I'm worthless every time I make a mistake!"
The words came out raw.
For one brief second, something changed in his face.
I saw it.
A flicker of recognition.
Perhaps even guilt.
Then it vanished beneath the familiar mask of arrogance.
"If you can't handle criticism, Vanguard isn't for you."
I laughed bitterly.
"Criticism? Is that what you call this?"
"What would you call it?"
"Bullying."
His eyes flashed.
"Careful."
"No. You be careful!"
I stepped closer, my hands shaking.
"You don't get to tear me apart in front of everyone and then act as though you're doing me a favour!"
"I am trying to make you better."
"Then try teaching me instead of screaming at me!"
"I shouldn't have to explain basic discipline to someone who claims to be capable of competing at this level!"
"And I shouldn't have to put up with your attitude just because you're Prince Kael!"
"From the moment I entered these gates of Veyloria not once have you ever been nice to me; instead you intend on making my life a living hell."
"Do you have any idea how many people would do anything to be in your position?"
"Yes!"
"Then act like it!"
"I am acting like it!"
"Really? Because all I've seen today is someone who can't get through a simple course without holding everyone else back!"
My throat tightened.
There it was again.
That familiar, cutting dismissal.
For a heartbeat, I saw the other version of him.
The one who had looked me in the eyes and told me that I meant nothing.
The one who had called me desperate.
The one who had made me feel foolish for believing there could be anything real between us.
I swallowed hard.
"You know what your problem is, Kael?"
"You think if you make everyone believe you don't care, nobody will notice that you're a miserable, arrogant—"
"Enough."
"No! I'm not finished!"
My voice broke.
I hated that it did.
"I am tired of you treating me like I'm a problem you have to get rid of. I'm tired of being expected to prove myself to someone who has already decided I'm not good enough!"
"Then why don't you—"
"THAT IS ENOUGH."
The voice cut through the training grounds like a blade.
Every head turned.
A man stood at the edge of the course.
He appeared to be in his early sixties, with silver threaded through his dark hair and a face marked by years of authority rather than age. He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, a crisp white shirt, and a deep blue tie fastened with a small golden pin bearing the academy crest.
His posture was immaculate.
His expression was not.
He looked at us with the kind of displeasure that made even the strongest students suddenly remember every rule they had ever broken.
The entire team fell silent.
Everyone except Kael and me lowered their heads.
"Sir."
The man didn't acknowledge the greetings.
His gaze moved from Kael to me.
Then back again.
"Both of you," he said.
Without giving us a chance to speak the man turned and began walking toward the academy building.
Kael's shoulders stiffened.
He glanced at me, his expression hardening into a glare.
I glared right back.
Then I followed him.
I had absolutely no idea who the man was but I could tell he carried authority.
The office was larger than I expected.
Dark wooden shelves lined the walls, filled with books, framed awards, and several polished trophies. Tall windows overlooked the academy gardens, while a massive desk stood at the center of the room beneath a painting of Veyloria's founders.
The man entered behind us and closed the door.
"Sit."
Kael sat immediately.
I lowered myself into the chair beside him, still trying to catch my breath.
The man walked around his desk, removed his jacket, and laid it carefully over the back of his chair.
Then he looked at us.
"I would like one of you to explain why I found two members of my academy's elite team screaming at each other in front of an entire training group."
Kael straightened.
"Sir, Akilah was struggling with the course, and I was trying to—"
"I did not ask you to justify yourself, Kael."
Kael's mouth closed.
The man folded his hands on the desk.
"I asked you to explain."
Kael's jaw tightened.
"I was correcting her performance."
"By shouting at her?"
"She wasn't responding to instruction."
"And your solution was to engage in a public argument with your teammate?"
Kael said nothing.
The man leaned back.
"You are the future king of Lycaria."
The words seemed to settle heavily over the room.
"As such, you should understand better than most that authority is not the same as control. A leader who cannot manage his own temper has no business demanding discipline from others."
Kael's expression remained rigid.
"And you, Princess Akilah. Even though I wish we had met in different circumstances, I am Headmaster Draven."
He was the headmaster. Wow, wolves do really age well.
"Do you believe that screaming at your team captain was an appropriate response?"
I opened my mouth.
"Well, he—"
"I'm not asking what he did."
I stopped.
The man raised an eyebrow.
"I'm asking what you did."
I pressed my lips together.
"No, sir."
"Then why did you do it?"
I hesitated.
"Because I was frustrated."
"An explanation. Not an excuse."
I lowered my eyes briefly.
"I lost my temper."
"Clearly."
He returned to his desk.
"You are both intelligent young people. You are both members of royal families, and you are both expected to conduct yourselves accordingly."
His gaze sharpened.
"Your titles do not exempt you from discipline. If anything, they make your behaviour more visible and your mistakes more consequential."
I looked at Kael from the corner of my eye.
He glared at the man.
"Now, there is another matter."
Kael's shoulders stiffened.
Mine did, too.
"I expect both of you to attend the academy's upcoming family day."
I blinked.
"Family day?"
"Yes."
He opened the folder.
"The event has been moved forward, and attendance will be compulsory for students' parents or legal guardians. Invitations will be sent to each household this afternoon."
My stomach sank.
If word got out that I was causing trouble, my father would never let me hear the end of it. How I brought dishonor to our kingdom.
"Is there a problem, Kael?"
"No."
"Excellent. Then I trust neither of you will create another incident before the event."
He closed the folder.
"You may go."
Kael stood.
I followed.
We had almost reached the door when the headmaster spoke again.
"One more thing."
We turned.
His gaze settled on both of us.
"If I hear of another public argument, I will personally ensure that neither of you enjoys the consequences."
Kael opened the door, and I followed him into the corridor.
Only when the office door closed behind us did I finally release the breath I'd been holding.
I glanced sideways at him.
He looked furious.
Probably at me, I suspected.
Then I remembered what he had said on the training grounds, and the satisfaction disappeared.
I walked past him.
"Akilah."
I ignored him.
"Akilah."
I kept walking.
His footsteps followed mine.
"Will you stop for a second?"
I turned sharply.
"What?"
He stood a few feet away, his expression unreadable.
For a moment, he simply looked at me.
Then he asked, "If you didn't want to be part of Vanguard, why did you join in the first place?"
I stared at him.
"My reasons are none of your business."
He stepped closer.
"You're part of my team. Your reasons become my business when you can't keep up."
I moved to walk around him.
He caught my wrist.
I stopped.
Before I could react, he pulled me back toward him.
My body collided with his chest.
A sharp breath escaped me.
For one suspended second, I forgot what I had been about to say.
All I could hear was the sound of his heartbeat and how close he was.
His hand remained around my wrist.
My heart stumbled.
I hated that it did.
I hated that after everything he had said, after the humiliation on the training grounds and the way he had looked at me when he told me I didn't deserve my place, my body still reacted to his nearness.
"Let go," I whispered.
His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth before returning to my eyes.
The movement was so quick I might have imagined it.
"Answer the question."
"No."
His jaw tightened.
"Akilah."
"Kael."
Neither of us moved.
The corridor seemed suddenly too quiet.
I could hear the distant sounds of students changing classes, the faint echo of footsteps from the staircase, the steady rhythm of my own heartbeat.
Then his voice lowered.
"If you're serious about this team, you need to work harder. You need to keep up, even when training gets difficult. You can't let whatever is going on in your head affect everyone around you."
I stared at him.
There was something different about his voice now.
He wasn't shouting.
He wasn't trying to humiliate me.
He sounded almost—
No.
I refused to finish that thought.
"I'm aware of what training requires."
"Then prove it."
"I have been proving it."
"Not today."
The words stung.
But this time, I didn't let them break through my defenses.
I lifted my chin.
"Then I'll do better tomorrow."
Something shifted in his expression.
Perhaps he hadn't expected that answer.
I continued.
"But don't you dare confuse one bad morning with me being incapable. I earned my place on Vanguard. Werecat and all. I worked hard to be in this position," I said not breaking my gaze.
"Good."
He stepped back.
"Because I won't make allowances for you."
He stared at me for another second.
Then he turned and walked away.
I remained where I was, watching him disappear around the corner.
My heart was still beating too fast.
I pressed my fingers against my wrist where he had held me.
I was exhausted.
Emotionally, physically, mentally.
I had seen my dead mother in a dream, listened to a warning I couldn't understand, and been left with another mystery that seemed to grow more dangerous the longer I thought about it.
Then Kael had spent the morning tearing into me, the headmaster had summoned us like two misbehaving children, and now a compulsory family day was being arranged without warning.
I closed my eyes.
"I'm going to lose my mind," I said before making my way back to my dormitory.
My bed was screaming for me after the day I just had.