Embers Rise

Chapter 7 — Part 1: The Breaking

"Strength isn't born. It's forged in sweat, blood, and the refusal to stay down. But first, you have to be broken enough to want to rise."

I woke before dawn, the cold bite of morning air seeping through the cracks in my shelter. For a moment, I didn't know where I was. Then the memories flooded back—the Ember Pack, Finn, the wary faces of wolves who had been broken and discarded.

I sat up slowly, my muscles aching from the journey. The fire had died during the night, leaving only grey ash and the faint scent of smoke.

You're awake, Ember said. Good. We have work to do.

I groaned. "Can't I have one day of rest?"

You've rested enough. If you want to lead this pack, you need to be strong. Stronger than you've ever been.

I climbed out of the shelter, shivering in the cold morning air. The clearing was quiet, most of the pack still asleep. But I saw a figure by the fire pit—Tamsin, sharpening a blade with practiced precision.

"Up early," she observed, not looking up from her work.

"Couldn't sleep."

"Liar." She glanced at me, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "You were restless. I could hear you tossing and turning from across the clearing."

I flushed. "I'm not used to... this."

"Neither were any of us." She set down the blade and stood, stretching her lean frame. "But you're here now. And if you're going to survive, you need to learn how to fight."

I blinked. "Fight?"

"You're a healer. That's valuable. But healers are targets." She walked toward me, her eyes sharp. "If you can't defend yourself, you'll be dead before you can save anyone."

She's right, Ember said. You need to train.

I sighed. "Fine. Teach me."

The first session was brutal.

Tamsin started with the basics—stances, balance, how to throw a punch without breaking my hand. She made me repeat the same movements over and over, correcting my posture, adjusting my grip, pushing me until my muscles screamed and my lungs burned.

"Again," she commanded, her voice flat.

I threw another punch, my fist connecting with the padded post she'd set up. My knuckles throbbed, but I didn't stop.

"Faster."

I punched again, faster.

"Harder."

I threw my whole body into the next punch, my fist slamming against the post with a satisfying thud.

"Better." Tamsin circled me, her eyes assessing. "But you're still holding back."

"I'm not—"

"Don't lie to me. You're afraid of your own strength. You've spent so long being invisible that you don't know how to take up space."

I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it. She was right.

"Again."

I punched. Then again. And again. Each strike was harder than the last, each breath more ragged. By the time Tamsin called a halt, my arms were trembling, my hands raw and bloody.

"Good," she said. "Now do it again."

I gritted my teeth and raised my fists.

By midday, I could barely lift my arms.

I sat by the fire pit, my hands wrapped in strips of cloth, watching the others train. Eira was practicing her healing on a wounded bird, her brow furrowed with concentration. Rourke was sparring with two younger wolves, his movements fluid and deadly.

Finn brought me a bowl of stew and a cup of water. "You look terrible."

"Thanks." I took a sip of water, wincing as my sore muscles protested. "I feel terrible."

"You'll get used to it." He sat beside me, his voice soft. "Tamsin pushes hard, but she knows what she's doing."

"I know." I watched Rourke disarm one of his sparring partners with a swift, brutal movement. "I want to learn how to fight like that."

"You will." Finn squeezed my shoulder. "Just give it time."

---

The afternoon was worse.

Tamsin shifted into her wolf form and gestured for me to do the same. I shifted, my body flowing through the transformation with familiar ease. She circled me, her muscles coiled with lethal grace.

She's going to attack, Ember warned.

I tensed, but before I could react, Tamsin lunged. Her weight slammed into my side, sending me crashing into the dirt. She pinned me to the ground, her jaws inches from my throat.

I froze, my heart pounding, waiting for the killing bite.

It didn't come.

"Again," Tamsin said, shifting back to human form. "This time, stay on your feet."

I shifted back, my body trembling. "How do I—"

"Fight back," she said simply. "Don't just take the hit. Move. Dodge. Counter."

I shifted again, my wolf form ready. Tamsin circled me, her eyes sharp.

She lunged again, but this time I was ready. I dodged, twisting my body out of the way. Her teeth grazed my shoulder, but she missed.

Good, Ember praised. Now strike back.

I lunged, my jaws snapping toward her flank. But she was faster, spinning away and clamping her teeth around my leg.

I yelped, falling to the ground. But I didn't stay down.

I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the pain. Tamsin circled me, a hint of approval flickering in her wolf eyes.

Better.

---

By sunset, I was battered, bruised, and barely standing.

"Enough," Tamsin said, shifting back to human form. "You'll need to do better tomorrow."

I collapsed onto the dirt, panting. "I can't... I can barely move."

"Good." She walked away, her footsteps silent on the forest floor. "That means you're learning."

I lay there, staring up at the darkening sky, wondering if I had made a terrible mistake.

But the worst was yet to come.

Day two was a disaster. My body was screaming with pain, my muscles refusing to cooperate. Every movement was agony. Every punch was weak.

I couldn't take it anymore.

Tamsin's fist connected with my jaw, and I crumpled like a broken toy.

"Get up," she said. "Again."

I couldn't. I just lay there, sobbing, the memories of Damon's voice crashing over me like a wave.

"You're not strong enough. You'll never be strong enough."

Lila's laughter echoed in my ears.

"You were so easy to fool, Raven. So desperate to be loved. It was almost pathetic."

I closed my eyes and wanted to die.

"Raven."

Tamsin's voice was sharp, but there was something else beneath it. Concern. Fear.

"Raven, get up. Please."

I didn't move. I couldn't. The weight of everything—the rejection, the betrayal, the loneliness—was crushing me.

"Leave me alone," I whispered. "Just leave me alone."

Tamsin knelt beside me, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I know you're hurting. I know you've been through hell. But if you give up now, they win. Damon wins. Lila wins. Is that what you want?"

I opened my eyes, tears streaming down my face. "I don't know what I want anymore."

"You want to survive," she said quietly. "You want to prove them wrong. You want to be strong. And you will. But you have to get up first."

I stared at her, something shifting in my chest.

"I was like you once," she said, her voice barely audible. "Broken. Discarded. I wanted to die. But I got up. And now I'm here. You can do the same."

I blinked, the words sinking in. I hadn't known Tamsin had been through something similar. I'd only seen her as the brutal trainer.

"Get up, Raven. Get up and show them what you're made of."

I took a breath. Then another. And slowly, painfully, I pushed myself to my feet.

"Good," she said, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "Now again."

That night, I crawled back to my shelter, my body screaming with pain.

My knuckles were split and bloody. My ribs ached with every breath. I collapsed onto my bed of leaves, the tears coming before I could stop them.

"It's too much," I whispered. "I can't do this."

Ember's warmth washed over me, but it wasn't enough. Nothing was enough.

I thought about my mother's face, swollen with tears. My father's rage. My brother's helpless fury. My sister's broken sobs.

I thought about the promise I'd made.

"I'll come back when I'm ready. And when I do, I'll be stronger than any of them."

I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. "Stronger than any of them. Right. I can barely stand."

You're still standing, Ember said softly. That's more than you could do a week ago.

"But I don't feel strong. I feel... broken."

You've been broken before, Raven. And you've healed. You'll heal again.

I closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of her presence like a comfort in the cold darkness.

"I just want to be enough," I whispered. "For once in my life, I just want to be enough."

You already are, she said. You've always been enough. You just never saw it.

Day three was better. Not perfect, but better.

I lasted three minutes against Tamsin before she pinned me. Three minutes. Yesterday, I'd lasted two. I was improving.

Finn caught my eye from across the clearing and gave me a nod. A small, almost imperceptible nod of approval. It meant more than any words could.

I nodded back, a fragile smile flickering across my lips.

I was still weak. I was still struggling. But I was moving forward.

Day four brought a partial victory.

I sparred with Rourke for the first time. He was silent, as always, his scarred face unreadable. He moved with lethal grace, his strikes precise and brutal.

He knocked me down seven times.

But on the eighth, I managed to block his attack and land a blow to his side.

He grunted—a sound of surprise, maybe even approval—and stepped back.

I collapsed to my knees, gasping, my body trembling with exhaustion. But I was smiling.

I'd landed a hit on Rourke. A small victory. But a victory nonetheless.

Day five brought a new challenge.

Tamsin paired me with a pack member I hadn't trained with before—a wolf named Eamon, younger than me but faster.

We fought in wolf form, our bodies moving in a blur of fur and teeth. For the first time, I felt like I was keeping up. Like I was holding my own.

I was too confident. I got sloppy.

Eamon's jaws closed around my leg, and I yelped, crashing to the ground. I'd lost.

But as I limped away, Tamsin caught my eye.

"You lasted six minutes," she said. "That's progress."

I winced, nursing my injured leg. "I got cocky."

"Now you know better." She paused, then said: "Good. You learned something. That's more important than winning."