Chapter 92

Chapter 92
Gregory's POV

Three AM, and I was still awake, hunched over the small desk in my room with papers scattered everywhere.

"Silver poisoning, stage three: muscle spasms, blurred vision, severe coordination loss..."

I set down my pen and rubbed my eyes. Every page was covered with detailed notes about survival techniques Ophelia had forced me to learn over twenty-two years.

But now I was trying to turn that nightmare into something useful—training materials that could actually save lives.

This wasn't theory from textbooks. This was real experience, documented in brutal detail.

How to stay conscious during silver poisoning. Pain management when you can't access medical help. Fighting techniques when your motor skills are compromised.

Twelve more pages just like this one, each describing scenarios most wolves would consider impossible to survive.

The sound of soft footsteps in the hallway interrupted my thoughts, followed by a gentle knock on the door.

"Gregory? You still awake?"

Nephele's voice. I should have known she'd sense my restlessness through our bond.

"Come in."

She pushed the door open, wearing pajamas and looking concerned. Her eyes immediately went to the chaos on my desk.

"Jesus, what time did you start working on this?"

"Time doesn't matter right now." I gestured at the papers. "This does."

She came closer, scanning the pages I'd written. "'Combat techniques for the injured.' 'Emergency tactics when weapons fail.' 'Recognizing psychological manipulation.'" She looked up at me. "Gregory, this stuff is..."

"Everything I was forced to learn to survive." My voice came out rougher than I intended. "Ophelia made sure I knew how to fight and stay alive under the worst possible conditions. Now I want to teach that to others."

Nephele pulled up the other chair and sat down across from me. "Are you scared?"

Simple question, but the answer was complicated.

"Scared?" I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "I'm terrified."

I stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the peaceful Stormfang territory. I could see guards patrolling in the distance—all of them with abilities I'd never have.

"I'm scared they'll look at me and only see someone broken," I admitted. "Scared I won't be able to convince them that someone who can't shift has anything valuable to teach. Scared I'll let down every wolfless person who might want a chance after me."

"Then why do it?"

I turned back to face her. Her violet eyes were full of understanding and support—the same look she'd given me when we fought Ophelia together and finally broke free.

"Because twenty-two years of hell has to mean something," I said, my voice getting steadier. "If my pain can help make others stronger, if what I learned can save lives, then maybe it wasn't all for nothing."

I walked back to the desk and picked up one of the pages.

"Look at this—'Escape techniques while restrained with silver chains.'" I showed her the detailed diagrams I'd drawn. "I know exactly how silver feels when it touches your skin. How the pain affects your ability to think clearly. How to stay focused when every nerve in your body is screaming."

"Those are practical skills," Nephele said quietly.

"Real skills, not theory." I sat back down. "Every pack member could face silver weapons someday. But how many instructors can actually teach them how to handle silver poisoning? How many can show them how to fight when they can't shift?"

Nephele reached across and took my hand. "You have something unique to offer."

"I hope those assessors see it that way."

We sat quietly for a moment. Then she asked, "What do you need from me?"

"Volunteers. Pack members willing to let a wolfless person train them." I sighed. "Rook said some people are interested, but being interested and being willing are two different things."

"Tomorrow we'll find them," she said with determination. "We'll show them what you can really offer."

"What if they say no?"

"Then we find people who won't." She stood up. "Gregory, you saved my life. You survived impossible circumstances for twenty-two years. You've already proven your worth—now we just need to help others see it."

Her confidence gave me hope. Maybe this really was possible.

"Alright," I said, picking up my pen again. "Tomorrow we start recruiting volunteers."

"We?"

"If I'm going to do this, I need my sister's support." I met her eyes. "Besides, your shadow magic might be useful for some of the scenarios I'm planning."

Nephele grinned. "Now you're talking. What did you have in mind?"

I turned to a fresh page and started sketching.

"Picture this—a warrior gets temporarily blinded by enemy magic. They can't shift, can't see, but they still need to fight." I drew quick diagrams. "Traditional training doesn't prepare people for this. But I know how to fight without being able to see."

"Because Ophelia..."

"Because Ophelia used to keep me in complete darkness for days sometimes." The memory still hurt, but now it had a purpose. "I learned how to use sound, smell, and air movement to navigate and fight. Those skills can be taught."

I kept writing, ideas flowing faster now.

"Or this scenario—a warrior's weapons get destroyed, their pack link gets cut off by magic, and they're alone against multiple enemies."

"That sounds terrifying."

"It is. But it's also possible." I looked up at her. "These are worst-case scenarios. If we don't prepare for the worst case, then the good cases don't matter."

Nephele studied my growing outline. "This is way more complex than regular pack training."

"Complex, but practical." I set down the pen. "Every technique I want to teach, I've actually used. Not in safe training conditions—in real situations where making a mistake meant dying."

"That's your advantage," she said suddenly. "You don't just know these skills. You know they work."

"Exactly." For the first time since Kaedan had told me about this opportunity, I felt genuinely hopeful. "I'm not teaching theory. I'm teaching survival."

"Good," Nephele said, pulling her chair closer. "Let's make a detailed plan. If we're going to convince people to volunteer, we need to show them exactly what they'll get out of it."

We worked until sunrise, planning every part of the demonstration. When the first light came through the window, I had a complete training outline and a clear strategy.

More importantly, I had something I hadn't felt in twenty-two years—confidence in my own worth.

Wolfless or not, I had valuable things to teach.

Now I just had to prove it.