Chapter Two: What Answers When She Loses Control
625 Words
The training grounds were silent when Asia arrived.
That was intentional.
Dawn had not fully broken yet, the sky caught between night and morning, bruised purple and gray. Frost clung to the grass beneath her boots. The air was sharp enough to bite.
Perfect conditions for control.
Asia stepped into the center of the ring and closed her eyes.
Breathe.
She could feel her wolf immediately—awake, alert, stretching against the inside of her skin like it had been waiting for this moment. Power hummed low in her chest, not wild yet, but restless. Always restless.
“Again,” her father said from the edge of the field.
Alpha Kade never raised his voice. He didn’t need to.
Asia opened her eyes. The deep blue darkened slightly.
She lifted her hand.
The ground responded.
A tremor rippled outward, subtle at first, then stronger. Dirt shifted. Stones rattled. The wooden posts lining the ring groaned as if something massive moved beneath them.
Asia clenched her jaw.
Too much.
She tried to pull it back—tighten the invisible leash she kept wrapped around her power—but it resisted, surging instead. Her vision sharpened. Sounds grew louder. Heartbeats echoed like drums.
A crack split the earth at her feet.
“Asia,” her mother called, calm but firm. “That’s enough.”
Asia dropped her hand.
The tremor stopped—but not immediately. The ground shuddered once more, like a final breath, before settling.
Silence followed.
A few wolves watched from a distance, pretending not to stare. They always did that. Pretended they weren’t afraid while memorizing every mistake she made.
Asia exhaled slowly.
“I almost had it,” she said.
Her father approached, boots crunching against frost. “You did,” he replied. “Until you tried to force it.”
Her eyes flicked to his. “If I don’t force it, it takes over.”
“That’s what you believe,” he said gently. “Not necessarily what’s true.”
Asia looked away.
Belief didn’t stop bones from breaking.
At the edge of the field, a young wolf—barely older than Asia—shifted nervously. He had volunteered to spar. Brave. Foolish.
“Shift,” Alpha Kade ordered.
The boy obeyed, wolf bursting free in a flash of fur and motion. He circled the ring, muscles tense, eyes wary.
Asia didn’t shift.
She never did during these sessions.
She stepped forward instead.
The wolf lunged.
Asia moved faster.
She caught him mid-air—not with her hands, but with will. The force slammed into the wolf like an invisible wall, pinning him to the ground. The earth beneath him cracked again, deeper this time.
Gasps rose from the watchers.
Asia froze.
She hadn’t meant to—
“Release him,” her mother said immediately.
Asia swallowed. Her fingers trembled as she loosened her grip. The pressure vanished. The wolf scrambled back, unharmed but shaken, shifting back into human form as quickly as possible.
Asia’s chest burned.
Her blue eyes flicked downward, avoiding everyone.
“I didn’t mean to,” she said quietly.
“I know,” her mother replied, already beside her, hands warm on Asia’s shoulders. “That’s why we train.”
Across the field, whispers stirred.
She didn’t touch him.
What if she loses it completely?
What kind of Luna will she be?
Asia heard every word.
Her wolf stirred again—amused this time.
They fear us, it murmured from deep within.
They should.
Asia straightened.
Her eyes lifted, cold and steady, meeting the stares head-on.
Fear did not bother her.
What frightened her was the truth she couldn’t escape:
One day, control would not be enough.
And when that day came, something inside her would answer instead.
- Writer
