CHAPTER 34
1073 Words
The sky was still grey when Elise opened her eyes.
Not the soft, comforting kind of grey that promised a gentle morning, but the dull, heavy kind that made everything feel slower.
She stared at the ceiling for a long time, letting her mind drift in and out of focus.
Her body ached in places that weren’t physical.
She could still feel the silence in her bones — the kind that lingered after too many goodbyes and not enough answers.
The power was still gone.
She tested it again. Just in case.
She placed her palm over her chest and closed her eyes. Imagined the light. The warmth. The fire.
Nothing.
No glow. No flicker. Not even a heartbeat of energy.
It was like trying to scream in a dream — like something inside her had been locked away and swallowed whole.
She sighed quietly and pulled herself out of bed.
Today wasn’t going to wait for her grief.
By mid-morning, Elise found herself outside, her cloak wrapped tightly around her as she walked past the garden and through the outer field, avoiding eye contact with the few pack members she passed along the way.
They smiled awkwardly.
Nodded.
Some offered a quick “You’re looking better,” like it was supposed to make her feel less broken.
It didn’t.
Instead, it made her feel even more broken.
What was better about loosing her powers?
Well she understood it.
Most of them didn’t know what to say to her anymore. And the ones who might have? They didn’t come around.
She wasn’t a warrior anymore.
Wasn’t a threat. Wasn’t a legacy. Wasn’t anything.
Just the girl who lost it all.
Kai hadn’t been around since early morning.
She knew he had meetings to attend, reports to deliver, scouts to debrief.
Still, a small part of her kept hoping he’d check in, even for a second.
He didn’t.
And Elise refused to admit how much that stung.
She knew he cared. Deeply.
But maybe even Kai was getting tired of trying to carry someone who couldn’t even carry herself.
So she walked alone.
Past the garden.
Through the storage grounds.
Into the empty training field behind the infirmary where no one really trained anymore.
She stood there for a while, staring at the practice dummies and weapons lying untouched in the corner.
Then she stepped forward.
She reached for a short wooden staff — not her weapon of choice, but light enough. Familiar enough.
Her grip was shaky.
Her footing even worse.
But she held it anyway.
Took a deep breath.
Then struck.
It was off-balance, and the sound it made as it hit the dummy was weak, barely a slap.
She clenched her teeth and tried again.
And again.
And again.
Her body moved slowly, out of rhythm — like a song she used to know but couldn’t quite remember.
Her shoulder throbbed from the strain, and sweat started to gather at the back of her neck.
But she didn’t stop.
She kept swinging.
Not because it made her feel powerful — it didn’t.
Not because she thought it would bring her magic back — it wouldn’t.
But because it reminded her of who she used to be.
Because movement, even clumsy movement, was better than stillness.
A small voice startled her.
“You’re holding it wrong.”
Elise turned sharply.
A young girl, maybe ten, stood at the edge of the field. She had short braids and bright eyes that didn’t quite match the sadness in her posture.
Elise recognized her vaguely — one of the younger trainees, often seen around the kitchens or tagging along behind her older brother, a junior scout.
“Oh?” Elise asked, breathless. “I didn’t think anyone came here.”
“They don’t,” the girl said, walking closer. “Not since you stopped.”
Elise blinked.
The girl tilted her head. “You’re Elise Thorne, right?”
She hesitated. “I used to be.”
The girl frowned. “That doesn’t make sense.”
Elise smiled faintly. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”
“I hope not,” the girl replied honestly. “I liked who you were. You made me want to train.”
Elise felt something strange in her chest. Not magic. Just… something warm. Painful, but warm.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Rina.”
“Well, Rina,” Elise said, adjusting the staff in her hand, “want to show me the right way?”
Rina lit up. “Sure!”
She walked over, corrected Elise’s stance, and pointed to how her elbow was bent too tightly. Elise listened, nodded, and followed her lead.
And for the next few minutes, they trained.
Elise didn’t feel like a warrior.
But she didn’t feel useless either.
That evening, Elise returned to the archives.
She carried the same notebook from the day before, the one she had started writing in — not as a journal exactly, but more like a map.
A place to dump her scattered thoughts, her questions, her anger, her hope.
She sat cross-legged on the cold floor, surrounded by a few books she’d set aside earlier.
One of them caught her attention — “The Path Without Power: Non-Magical Wolf Histories.”
Inside were stories about wolves who had been born without gifts or lost them but had gone on to become strategists, guardians, advisors… leaders.
Their power came not from force, but from resilience. From knowledge. From surviving.
Elise traced one of the names written in faded ink.
The more she read, the more something began to stir inside her — not power, not light — just… determination.
If she couldn’t be the girl the council believed in…
Then maybe she’d become something they didn’t see coming.
Later that night, she sat by her window again, her journal open on her lap.
The stars had begun to scatter across the dark sky, and somewhere in the distance, drums from the training ground echoed faintly.
The others were preparing for the pack demonstration.
She wasn’t invited.
Not even mentioned.
But she watched them from afar, trying not to feel bitter.
Trying not to feel forgotten.
She pressed her forehead against the cool glass, and in the quiet, whispered:
“I’m still here.”
It wasn’t a battle cry.
It wasn’t a promise to rise.
It was just a truth.
A small one.
But one that mattered.
- Writer
