CHAPTER 6 — THE EDGE OF CONTROL
1303 Words
The training grounds of Frostfang Citadel were carved directly into the mountain’s spine.
Stone platforms jutted over a ravine veiled in mist, each etched with ancient runes that glowed faintly whenever lunar energy surged through the citadel. The air here was colder than anywhere else—sharp enough to sting the lungs, clean enough to sharpen the mind.
Seraphine stood at the center ring.
Boots planted. Shoulders squared. Shadows coiled low at her feet, restless but restrained.
She hated training circles.
They were designed to expose weakness.
“Again.”
Damian’s voice cut clean through the wind.
Seraphine lifted her chin. “You didn’t say what you want me to do differently.”
He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, hands clasped behind his back like a commander assessing a battlefield.
“I want you to stop bracing,” he said. “You’re locking your core.”
“That’s how I keep control.”
“That’s how you fracture it.”
She met his gaze, unimpressed. “Witches don’t fight like wolves.”
“No,” Damian agreed calmly. “But you’re not fighting witches here.”
The implication hung heavy.
Darius leaned against one of the outer pillars, arms crossed, expression unreadable. His presence alone altered the air—lighter, sharper, charged with a kind of irreverent heat that made Seraphine’s shadows twitch despite her effort to keep them still.
“Let her breathe,” Darius said lazily. “You’re crowding.”
Damian didn’t look away from Seraphine.
“She needs pressure.”
Darius’ mouth curved. “Or she needs trust.”
Seraphine exhaled slowly through her nose.
“Decide,” she said flatly. “Am I a weapon or a guest?”
Damian’s eyes softened—not by much.
“You’re neither,” he replied. “You’re an unknown variable.”
She scoffed. “Comforting.”
“Honest,” he countered.
He stepped back and gestured toward the center sigil.
“Shadow weave,” he instructed. “Controlled output. No flaring.”
Seraphine closed her eyes.
She let the cold sink into her bones, let the citadel’s lunar hum settle beneath her ribs. Shadows rose—not violently, not defensively—but like a breath being drawn.
They formed thin strands, precise and steady.
The runes beneath her feet glowed faint violet.
“Good,” Damian said. “Now move.”
She did—spinning to the side as a pulse of lunar energy sliced through the space where she’d been standing moments before.
Darius straightened.
Damian had attacked without warning.
Seraphine reacted on instinct, shadows snapping up to deflect the blow. The impact rattled through her arms, but she held.
“Again,” Damian ordered.
Another strike—faster this time.
She dodged, countering with a shadow lash that skimmed his shoulder before dissipating.
Darius whistled softly. “She’s learning.”
Damian circled her, eyes sharp. “She’s anticipating.”
Seraphine adjusted her stance, breath even. “You taught me.”
“Then unlearn,” he said—and lunged.
She barely had time to react.
Damian closed the distance in two strides, forcing her to pivot. Her shadows flared reflexively—too fast, too much.
The sigils beneath them flashed.
Darius swore.
“Pull it back!” he shouted.
Seraphine tried.
The resonance hit like a wave.
Her magic didn’t just respond—it reached.
Damian froze mid-movement, muscles locking as if gravity itself had doubled. His breath hitched, silver sigils blazing across his skin.
Seraphine staggered.
“No—” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to—”
Darius was suddenly there, hand gripping her wrist—not tight, but grounding.
“Breathe,” he said sharply. “You’re bleeding into him.”
Her pulse thundered.
She focused on Darius’ voice, the warmth of his palm, the steady pressure anchoring her back into herself.
The shadows recoiled.
Damian exhaled slowly, control snapping back into place.
The silence afterward was heavy.
Seraphine pulled her hand free, heart racing. “I warned you.”
Damian nodded once. “You did.”
He studied her—not as an Alpha now, but as a tactician reassessing a dangerous equation.
“You respond to proximity,” he said. “And emotional spike.”
“I respond to pressure,” she corrected.
Darius tilted his head. “Same thing.”
She shot him a look.
He grinned.
Damian turned away, signaling a reset. “We change tactics.”
“Meaning?” Seraphine asked.
“You’ll train with me,” Damian said evenly. “And he—” a glance at Darius, “—will disrupt.”
Darius’ grin widened. “Oh, I like this already.”
Seraphine didn’t.
They repositioned—Damian directly in front of her, Darius circling wider, deliberately careless with his movements.
“Focus on me,” Damian instructed.
She did.
Too much.
The moment Darius stepped closer, letting his energy brush the edge of her awareness, her shadows trembled.
“Eyes up,” Damian said quietly.
She obeyed.
He was close now—closer than before. Not touching, but near enough that she could feel his heat, steady and contained.
“Strike,” he commanded.
She attacked—shadow blades forming cleanly, aimed to test, not harm.
Damian deflected with minimal effort, redirecting her momentum with a firm hand at her forearm. The contact sent a jolt through her—sharp, grounding, electric.
Her breath stuttered.
“Again.”
She struck faster.
This time Damian didn’t deflect immediately. He let the shadow skim his side, testing her restraint.
Darius’ presence tightened behind her—too close.
“Careful,” he murmured. “You’re overthinking.”
Her control slipped.
Damian caught her wrist mid-motion, grip firm.
“Don’t,” he warned Darius without looking. “You’re splitting her focus.”
“That’s the point.”
Seraphine inhaled sharply.
“Enough,” she snapped.
Both men froze.
The shadows stilled.
She pulled free, chest rising and falling. “I won’t be pulled apart so you can prove a theory.”
Damian’s expression shifted—approval flickering briefly beneath the discipline.
“Good,” he said. “Then set the boundary.”
Darius raised a brow. “By all means.”
Seraphine closed her eyes.
She centered herself—not around fear, not around control—but around intent.
The shadows responded—drawing inward, compact and quiet.
When she opened her eyes again, the air felt… balanced.
Damian felt it instantly.
Darius too.
“Well,” Darius said softly. “That’s new.”
Seraphine met his gaze. “So is my patience.”
A beat.
Then Damian stepped back, signaling the end.
“That’s enough for today.”
Darius looked mildly disappointed. “Already?”
“You pushed too far,” Damian said.
“And you didn’t?” Darius shot back.
Seraphine turned away before they could continue, moving toward the edge of the platform. The ravine below yawned wide and endless, mist swirling like a living thing.
Her heart was still racing.
Footsteps approached—measured.
Damian stopped beside her, keeping a respectful distance.
“You adapted faster than expected,” he said.
She shrugged. “I had to.”
He studied her profile, voice lower. “This bond—whatever it is—it responds to emotion. If you let it spiral, it will.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then you’ll control it.”
She glanced at him. “Together?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Darius’ laughter drifted faintly behind them.
Damian finally spoke. “Eventually.”
The word lingered.
Seraphine looked back out over the ravine.
Below, something ancient stirred—drawn by resonance, awakened by alignment.
Three forces.
One fault line.
And a future none of them were ready to face.
The mountain wind howled—low, warning, inevitable.
Training was only the beginning.
- Writer
