CHAPTER ELEVEN
1123 Words
11: The Training
Elena’s breath came out in visible puffs as she followed Kieran deeper into the forest. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. Leaves rustled in the trees above them, golden beams of sunlight piercing through the canopy. Her boots crunched against the uneven ground, but Kieran moved effortlessly, his steps eerily soundless despite the twigs and undergrowth beneath them.
She pulled her jacket tighter around herself, still sore from yesterday’s revelations. Only last night, she had sat by the fire, trying to make sense of Kieran’s words. Lunar chosen. The title felt too heavy, too foreign to belong to her. And yet, here she was, being dragged into the woods to prepare for something she never asked for.
“How much farther?” she asked, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
Kieran barely glanced back. “We’re here.”
Elena stopped beside him, taking in the clearing. It was a small, secluded patch of land surrounded by towering trees. A shallow stream trickled nearby, its soft murmuring the only sound beyond the rustling leaves. Sunlight dappled the grass beneath their feet, and in the stillness of the moment, it was almost peaceful.
Almost.
She turned to Kieran, narrowing her eyes. “So? What exactly are we doing?”
He unslung a long wooden staff from his back and tossed it to her. She caught it awkwardly, the polished wood cool against her fingers.
“You’re going to learn how to fight.”
Elena frowned. “With this?”
Kieran smirked. “Baby steps.”
She exhaled sharply. “And why, exactly, do I need to learn how to fight werewolves?”
He crossed his arms. “Because Marcus isn’t going to wait for you to be ready.”
A shiver ran down her spine, but she masked it with a roll of her eyes. “And you think this”—she gestured to the staff—“is going to help me?”
“It’s not about the weapon,” Kieran said, stepping closer. “It’s about control. Strength isn’t the only way to win a fight, Elena. Speed, intelligence, adaptability—those are just as important. Werewolves fight with instinct. You need to fight with strategy.”
She swallowed hard. “And if I can’t?”
Kieran’s gaze darkened. “Then you die.”
The weight of his words settled over her like a cold shadow.
For the first time, she truly felt the danger looming over her. This wasn’t just some lesson. This was survival.
Kieran must have sensed her hesitation because his expression softened—slightly. “I won’t let that happen. But you need to trust me.”
Elena tightened her grip on the staff. Trust. She wasn’t sure she had much of that left to give. But at this moment, she didn’t have a choice.
“Alright,” she said, setting her jaw. “Show me.”
Kieran’s smirk returned, but there was something else behind it this time—approval.
He stepped back, twirling his own staff with practiced ease. “First lesson: footwork.”
Elena barely had time to register his words before he lunged.
She yelped, stumbling back as the staff sliced through the air inches from her ribs. She barely managed to bring her own up in time, the force of Kieran’s strike reverberating through her arms.
“You’re slow,” he said, circling her like a predator. “If I were Marcus, you’d already be dead.”
Elena scowled, steadying her stance. “Gee, thanks for the encouragement.”
Kieran only smirked before coming at her again.
The next hour was a blur of movement and failure. No matter how hard she tried, Kieran was always a step ahead, his blows landing just hard enough to sting but not to bruise. He made it look effortless, barely winded as she gasped for breath.
Frustration bubbled inside her. “How am I supposed to win if you don’t let me breathe?” she snapped.
“You think your enemies will give you a break?” Kieran countered. “You’re too stiff. Too predictable.”
Elena clenched her jaw. “I’m trying.”
“You’re thinking too much,” he corrected. “Fighting isn’t about memorizing moves. It’s about reacting.”
He lunged again. This time, instead of trying to block, Elena moved. She sidestepped, letting Kieran’s momentum carry him forward. She swung her staff, aiming low, but he twisted at the last second, knocking her weapon aside with ease.
“Better,” he said, his golden eyes glinting. “Again.”
And so it went. For hours, Kieran pushed her, forcing her to react faster, to move smarter. He made her repeat strikes, dodges, and counters until her muscles burned and sweat dripped down her back.
When she finally collapsed onto the grass, panting, she half-expected Kieran to demand she get up.
Instead, he sat beside her, resting his arms on his knees. “Not bad,” he said after a moment. “For a human.”
Elena let out a breathless laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Kieran smirked but didn’t argue. They sat in silence for a while, the sounds of the forest filling the space between them.
After a moment, Elena turned to him. “Why do you care so much?”
Kieran’s expression darkened, and for a second, she thought he wouldn’t answer. But then he sighed, running a hand through his dark hair.
“Because Marcus isn’t just dangerous—he’s ruthless. If he gets his hands on you…” His jaw clenched. “You can’t even begin to imagine what he’d do.”
Elena swallowed. “But why me?”
Kieran hesitated, then finally met her gaze. “Because you’re important, Elena. More than you realize.”
Her breath caught. Not because of his words, but because of the way he said them—with absolute certainty.
She looked away, her heart hammering. “I don’t feel important.”
Kieran’s voice softened. “That doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
A lump formed in her throat. She wanted to believe him. She really did. But the truth was, she was terrified.
Terrified of what was coming. Terrified of what she was becoming.
And most of all, terrified of the way Kieran made her feel.
She pushed herself up with a groan, brushing the dirt from her hands. “We should head back.”
Kieran studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah.”
As they walked through the forest, Elena knew one thing for certain—
This was only the beginning.
And she wasn’t sure she was ready for what came next.
- Writer
