The Sun's Wrath
673 Words
The training grounds of the Night-Star Citadel were not for the faint of heart. Carved into a high mountain plateau, the air was thin, cold, and smelled of ozone.
"You're late," Ryker said without turning around. He was shirtless in the sub-zero temperatures, his back a map of ancient scars and powerful muscle. He was practicing with a heavy obsidian blade, his movements a blur of lethal grace.
"I’m not a warrior, Ryker," I said, hugging my arms. "In my pack, Omegas weren't even allowed to watch the patrols train. We were told our only job was to submit."
Ryker stopped mid-swing. He turned, his violet eyes glowing with a faint, dangerous light. "In this pack, the only thing you submit to is your own potential. Submission is a word for the weak, Elara. And you? You are the most dangerous thing in this mountain. You just haven't realized it yet."
He tossed a training dummy—a heavy thing made of reinforced leather—into the center of the ring.
"Hit it," he commanded.
"With what? I don't have a weapon."
"You are the weapon," he growled, stepping closer until I could feel the heat radiating off his bare chest. "Think of the rejection. Think of Killian’s teeth in Sienna’s neck. Think of every time they called you 'nameless' while you scrubbed their floors."
The memory hit me like a physical punch. The laughter of the pack. The coldness in Killian’s eyes. The way he had looked at me as if I were a piece of trash stuck to his boot.
A low hum started in my ears. The air around me began to shimmer.
"That's it," Ryker whispered, his voice a dark caress. "Give it a name, Elara. The pain. The betrayal. Turn it into fire."
I looked at the dummy, but I didn't see leather. I saw Killian’s smug, handsome face. I saw the man who had torn my soul apart and expected me to die quietly in the woods.
“I am NOT nameless!” I screamed.
I didn't punch. I didn't kick. I simply opened my palms.
A pillar of pure, white-hot solar fire erupted from my chest. It wasn't the soft amber glow from the forest; it was a supernova. The light was so blinding that even Ryker had to shield his eyes. A roar, like the sound of a thousand lions, filled the plateau.
When the light faded, the training dummy wasn't just destroyed—it was gone. There was nothing left but a scorched circle on the stone floor and a faint trail of ash blowing in the wind.
Silence fell over the mountain.
I gasped, falling to my knees, my breath coming in ragged heaves. My hands were smoking, but I wasn't burned. The gold in my eyes was swirling like a nebula.
I looked up at Ryker, expecting him to be angry that I’d destroyed his equipment.
Instead, he was staring at the scorched earth with an expression I’d never seen on him: Awe.
He walked toward me, his movements slow and deliberate. He reached down and cupped my face with both hands. His palms were cool, a perfect balm for the fire still dancing under my skin.
"The Solaris didn't just channel the sun," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "They were the sun's executors. Elara... that wasn't just a shift. That was a Judgment."
Suddenly, his head snapped toward the horizon, his nostrils flaring.
"What is it?" I asked, my heart hammering.
"The Blood-Moon Pack," Ryker hissed, his eyes turning black as his wolf took over. "They’ve crossed the border. Killian is leading a scouting party. He felt the surge of your power. He thinks he’s tracking a Rogue."
He looked down at me, a dark, wicked smirk pulling at his lips.
"He’s looking for a maid. Shall we show him a Goddess instead?"
- Writer
