THIRTEEN
1489 Words
Lioran’s POV
The training yard smelled like dust, sweat, and tension—the usual mix that made people either stronger or dead inside. The afternoon sun hit the arena in broken streaks, sliding through the gaps in the worn wooden beams above.
Rowan stood in the middle of it all, his stick pressed against Arian’s neck, a smirk twisting his face like he was already imagining blood.
“Rowan.” Austin’s voice cut through the noise like a blade. He didn’t shout; he never needed to. When Austin spoke, people listened.
Rowan’s grin faltered for half a heartbeat before he turned slightly, that same arrogance crawling back onto his face. “Just testing the new boy’s reflexes, Austin.”
Austin crossed his arms. “You’re not here to test him. You’re here to train. Leave him and fight your brother.”
The silence that followed was almost satisfying.
Rowan threw Arian a last look — a threat coated in a lazy smirk. “Watch your back, pet.” Then he turned toward me, twirling his stick.
I sighed quietly and rolled my shoulders, stepping forward. Same routine. Same irritation.
Austin backed away and gave us space. “Begin.”
The first strike came fast — Rowan always went for the neck, like he wanted to end things before they began. I blocked, the impact sending a ripple up my arm. He hit again, harder this time, and I caught the rhythm. It was a rhythm I’d known all my life — reckless, heavy, desperate.
“You’re predictable,” I muttered, swinging back.
“Shut up,” Rowan snapped, twisting his stick toward my side.
I blocked again and pivoted, sending a sharp jab at his ribs. He barely dodged. The sound of our sticks clashing echoed across the yard. Others had stopped pretending to train — they were watching us now.
Rowan’s breath came out harsh, but mine stayed calm. He hated that.
“You think you’re better than me?” he growled.
“I don’t think,” I said, knocking his stick out of his grip with one clean twist. “I know.”
It clattered to the ground.
Austin raised a brow but didn’t comment. He didn’t need to. Everyone knew how this always ended.
Rowan bent, picked up his stick, and threw it down again in frustration. He turned, and his gaze went straight to Arian, who had been standing quietly at the edge, watching us.
That was his mistake.
He couldn’t stand being watched by someone he wanted to humiliate.
“You enjoy the show, pet?” Rowan called, voice sharp.
Arian’s head tilted slightly. “You should focus more on winning,” he said. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried — calm, steady, and far too fearless for someone like him.
A few people nearby exchanged looks. Even Austin’s gaze flicked to the boy for a moment.
Rowan froze, then gave a low laugh. It was the kind of laugh that promised something ugly.
He stepped closer to Arian. “You got guts talking to me like that.”
“Maybe,” Arian said, eyes meeting his. “Or maybe I just don’t see the reason to be afraid.”
That was bold. Stupid, but bold.
Before Rowan could lunge, I stepped in between them. “He’s right,” I said coolly. “You should’ve focused more on your footing. You keep missing your swings.”
Rowan’s jaw twitched. “Stay out of this, Lioran.”
“Or what?”
He didn’t answer. He just glared at me — that same glare he always used when his pride was bleeding.
Then he spat the words that made the tension shift completely. “Why’s he around you anyway? You don’t do pets. That’s my thing.”
The word pet made Arian stiffen behind me, and Austin’s eyes narrowed slightly, though he didn’t speak.
I shrugged. “Maybe I changed my mind.”
Rowan’s nostrils flared. “Don’t mock me.”
“I’m not.” I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “But if you’re so obsessed with owning people, maybe you should ask yourself why they always end up hating you.”
That did it.
Rowan’s stick lifted halfway before Austin moved. He didn’t shout — just caught Rowan’s wrist midair. “Enough,” he said quietly. “Both of you.”
Rowan jerked his arm away and stepped back, glaring at me first, then Arian. “This isn’t over.”
“It never is,” I murmured.
Austin gestured toward the others. “Pair up. Lioran, stay with Rowan.”
Rowan grunted, annoyance seeping from every movement. Still, he obeyed.
We went another round, more mechanical this time. Austin walked the line, watching us like a hawk. I could feel Rowan’s anger pulsing off him. He fought like he was trying to burn something out of his chest. When the match finally ended, the trainer nodded once.
“Rowan, that’s enough. Go cool off.”
Rowan tossed his stick aside and turned to Arian again. “Don’t get too comfortable, pet. I’ve got a surprise for you later.”
Arian didn’t answer. He just stared back with a calm expression that I couldn’t read. The quiet kind — the kind that could either mean courage or something else entirely.
Rowan stalked off, shoulders tight.
Austin turned to me. “He’s going to cause trouble again.”
“He always does.” I grabbed my towel and wiped the sweat from my neck.
A few of the others drifted away, laughing nervously, whispering about the fight. I ignored them and looked back toward Arian. He was still standing in the same spot, a little too still.
I walked over, just enough to meet his eyes. “You should’ve kept quiet.”
“I know,” he said softly.
“Then why didn’t you?”
He gave the faintest shrug. “Because he needed to hear it.”
There was no fear in his voice. Only truth. That was… unusual.
I studied him for a second longer. “You’re either very brave or very stupid.”
“Maybe both.”
I almost smiled.
Austin’s voice interrupted. “Lioran.”
I turned. “Yeah?”
He jerked his chin toward the gate. “A word.”
Rowan was already gone, but I could still feel his anger hanging in the air. I followed Austin out of the yard. We walked down the narrow corridor beside the training ground, the noise of practice fading behind us.
When we turned the corner, I stopped.
On the wall, half-hidden under the peeling paint and notices, was a poster.
Arian’s face.
It wasn’t a clean portrait — it looked like it had been torn from a report file and printed in a hurry. There were faint marks across the paper, and the edges were burned slightly.
Austin stared at it, then at me.
“What the hell is that doing here?” I asked.
He didn’t answer right away. “That’s what I wanted to talk about.”
The way he said it made my stomach tighten slightly.
I looked closer. The text beneath the image was faint, but the words were clear enough:
“Subject: Arian Vale — Status: Unregistered — Observation required.”
Unregistered. That word alone carried enough weight to make most packs uneasy.
I exhaled slowly. “Does Rowan know?”
“No,” Austin said. “And he doesn’t need to. Not yet.”
I looked back toward the yard, where Arian was still visible in the distance — standing alone, eyes on the ground, shoulders steady.
He didn’t look dangerous. He looked like someone pretending not to be broken.
But then again, that’s how the most dangerous ones always looked.
Austin’s tone dropped lower. “Keep him close. Watch what he does, who he talks to. If the Council finds out before we know what he is, we’ll all have a problem.”
I nodded once, though my thoughts were already somewhere else.
Unregistered. Hidden. Watching him fight back against Rowan suddenly made a lot more sense.
I turned back toward the yard and saw Arian glance up, his gaze catching mine for just a second. It was faint, but something flickered there — not fear, not defiance… something older.
I looked back at the poster again. The ink was still fresh. Someone had put it up today.
When I turned to Austin, he was already walking away.
“Don’t let Rowan touch him again,” he said over his shoulder. “If what I think is true, it won’t end well for anyone.”
I stood there for a moment longer, the smell of dust and sweat clinging to the air, before I tore the poster off the wall and folded it into my pocket.
The edges cut against my palm as I walked out into the fading sunlight, but I didn’t care.
- Writer
