Chapter 10: When Power Starts to Bleed
1319 Words
The training grounds had always feared Kael Nightfang.
They were carved into black stone, scorched and cracked by generations of Alpha power. Many had trained there. Many had bled there. Some had died there. But no Alpha had ever marked the ground the way Kael had.
Fire remembered him.
The pack gathered in a wide circle as the sun dipped low, staining the sky with red and gold. Warriors stood shoulder to shoulder, their breaths steady, their eyes sharp. This was not a ceremony. It was not a celebration.
It was a test.
Kael stood at the center of the ring, bare-handed, his boots planted firmly against the stone. His posture was calm, controlled, Alpha-perfect. From the outside, no one could see the tension coiled inside him.
Inside, everything burned wrong.
His wolf paced restlessly beneath his skin, claws scraping against bone, heat crawling through his veins like molten metal. The fire that once answered him instantly now hesitated. It flickered. It pulled back.
Weakness.
The word cut deeper than any blade.
An Alpha could not hesitate. An Alpha could not flicker.
And the pack was watching.
“Begin,” Elder Rhyse commanded from the edge of the ring.
Kael inhaled slowly and raised his hand.
Fire should have answered.
It always had.
For years, flame had risen at his command—strong, obedient, terrifying. Ashfire, they called it. A rare Alpha gift. A power born of destruction and rebirth.
But now—
Nothing happened.
A ripple of unease moved through the crowd.
Kael’s jaw tightened. He pushed harder, reaching inward, forcing the fire awake.
The flame sparked.
Not a roar. Not a surge.
A spark.
A murmur passed through the warriors. Some shifted their stance. Others exchanged quick glances.
Kael clenched his fist.
The fire flared suddenly—too sudden—bursting from the stone beneath his feet in a violent wave. Heat slammed outward, forcing the nearest warriors to step back.
The stone cracked.
Smoke curled upward.
The fire vanished as quickly as it came.
Silence followed.
Kael lowered his hand slowly.
His chest burned. His breath came sharper than it should have. The power had taken more from him than it ever had before.
Elder Rhyse’s eyes narrowed.
“Again,” the elder said.
Kael did not hesitate this time. He turned, muscles coiling, and launched forward at the nearest combat post—a thick stone pillar carved with old pack symbols.
He struck it with his palm.
The fire surged late.
It lagged behind his movement, chasing his command instead of leading it. When it finally erupted, it was wild—too hot, too unfocused.
The pillar exploded.
Stone shattered outward. Heat rolled across the training ground.
Kael staggered back half a step.
That had never happened before.
His heart slammed hard against his ribs.
Across the ring, warriors stiffened. A few stepped forward instinctively, as if ready to defend themselves—from him.
An Alpha losing control was worse than an Alpha losing strength.
Control was law.
Kael straightened immediately, forcing his breathing steady, forcing his posture back into iron command.
“I am fine,” he said sharply.
No one had spoken.
That made it worse.
Elder Rhyse exchanged a look with Elder Maeron. The look lasted only a second, but Kael saw it.
Confirmation.
The weakness was no longer hidden.
“Enough,” Elder Rhyse said finally.
The warriors relaxed slightly, but their eyes never left Kael.
The test was over.
And it had not gone unnoticed.
From the edge of the training grounds, Elira watched everything.
She stood half-hidden among the trees, hood drawn low, silver binding cuffs still faintly glowing around her wrists. She had not been ordered to attend. But she felt it.
The moment Kael’s power faltered, her chest burned.
The bond reacted before her mind did.
Every spark of his fire echoed inside her blood. When it stuttered, she felt it like a sharp ache behind her heart.
She pressed her palm against her chest, breathing slowly.
This is my fault.
The elders’ words returned to her, cruel and absolute.
If she lives, his power will bleed away.
She had believed them. Not because she trusted them—but because she could feel the truth of it now.
Kael turned from the training ring.
Their eyes met across the distance.
The world narrowed.
For one terrifying heartbeat, the bond surged—raw, unfiltered. Heat rolled through Elira’s veins, bright and painful. Kael froze mid-step, his breath catching as if someone had struck him.
Fire flickered at his feet.
Unbidden.
Uncontrolled.
Elder Maeron noticed.
“Elira,” the elder said sharply. “Leave.”
She hesitated.
Kael’s gaze flicked to the elder, then back to her. His jaw tightened once, just enough.
Go.
She turned and vanished into the trees.
The fire beneath Kael’s boots died slowly.
Too slowly.
That night, Kael stood alone on the high ridge overlooking Nightfang territory.
The moon hung heavy above him, full and bright, casting silver light across the forest canopy. Normally, the moon calmed his wolf. It centered him. Balanced fire and instinct.
Tonight, it did nothing.
His wolf paced endlessly inside him, restless and agitated.
She is too close.
He knew it without scent or sight.
The bond stretched like a living thread between them, humming with dangerous warmth. The closer she was, the louder it grew. The louder it grew, the more his power slipped.
Kael slammed his fist into a tree.
The bark ignited instantly, flames racing up the trunk.
“Control it,” he growled to himself.
The fire refused to die.
It burned brighter, hotter, feeding on his frustration, his fear, his want.
Want.
The word was poison.
He closed his eyes, forcing the fire down inch by inch, wrestling it back into his core. When it finally obeyed, sweat coated his skin, and his muscles trembled faintly.
This had never happened before.
An Alpha’s power did not resist him.
Unless—
“Elira,” he whispered.
The name burned.
Below the ridge, hidden within the old guest wing of the Alpha house, Elira sat on the edge of a narrow bed.
Her hands glowed faintly, heat rippling beneath her skin. She had tried to sleep. Sleep refused her.
Every time she closed her eyes, she felt him—strained, burning, fighting himself.
She wrapped her arms around her knees.
“I’m killing him,” she whispered.
The words shook.
She had survived hunters. Firestorms. Years of running.
But this—
Loving him without touching him.
Existing was enough to hurt him.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
Elira froze.
The door opened before she could answer.
Kael stood there.
The bond snapped tight.
Fire flared between them—visible this time, a low arc of glowing heat in the air.
They both felt it.
Both flinched.
Kael shut the door behind him with care, leaning back against it as if grounding himself.
“You should not be here,” Elira said quietly.
His eyes lifted to hers.
“I know.”
Silence stretched between them, thick and dangerous.
“You’re getting weaker,” she said.
The truth hung heavy.
Kael did not deny it.
Instead, he said, “And you feel it.”
“Yes.”
Another silence.
“I nearly lost control today,” Kael admitted finally.
Elira’s breath hitched.
“In front of the pack.”
Her fingers curled tightly into the blanket.
“That cannot happen,” she whispered.
Kael pushed off the door, taking one step forward—and then stopping, as if an invisible wall held him back.
“I am Alpha,” he said. “I do not break.”
“But you are,” she said softly.
The fire between them pulsed.
For the first time since his birth, Kael Nightfang was afraid.
Not of enemies.
Not of death.
But of the woman standing ten steps away.
- Writer
