Eight
“They’re closer,” Damian murmured, his crimson eyes fixed on something beyond the clearing.
Angela’s heart raced.
“What’s happening?” she asked, her voice tight.
Zane turned to her, his golden gaze unyielding.
“They won’t give us time for more training, Angela. They’re already here.”
The sound came first—like claws scraping against the earth. Then the wind shifted, carrying a stench of rot that churned Angela’s stomach.
The first creature burst from the shadows, grotesque and twisted, half-man, half-nightmare. It moved with unnatural speed, its red eyes blazing in the dark.
“Protect yourself!” Zane roared, charging forward, fists clenched with terrifying force.
Damian lunged too, crimson gaze lit with fury. But Theo stayed close, anchoring himself at Angela’s side, his green eyes locked on the monster.
“Don’t move,” he commanded, his voice low and absolute. “I’ll protect you.”
Angela’s body shook, but inside her, the storm stirred again—power rising, begging to be freed.
She didn’t hesitate.
Her hands lifted.
The air cracked with blue light, brighter, fiercer than ever before.
In a single instant, the creature was consumed, torn apart in an explosion of energy, disintegrating into ash before it could even scream.
But relief was short-lived.
More came. Shadows spilling into the clearing like the night itself had grown teeth.
Angela knew then: there was no escape. Not anymore.
The air grew thick, every breath heavy. The shadows advanced, and the hunger inside her pulsed with them. It wasn’t just fear now—it was hunger. Something primal, something terrifying.
She glanced at the Alphas.
Theo at her right, calm yet coiled, green eyes sharp as a predator’s.
Damian to her left, crimson eyes burning, shoulders bowed under some great weight.
And Zane before her, fists clenched, body taut—not only with battle-readiness, but with silent worry.
The first shadow surged forward, bursting into form—twisted, shapeless, with writhing tendrils reaching like claws. Its glowing eyes burned like embers, and the clearing darkened with its presence.
“Prepare yourselves!” Damian’s voice ripped through the air as he hurled himself into the fight, faster than an arrow.
Angela stood rooted, chaos boiling in her chest. Fear and fire, tangled together.
Theo’s voice anchored her. “Angela, control it. It’s not just brute strength. Use what’s around you. Feel it. Let it guide you.”
His words steadied her.
She closed her eyes. She felt the earth beneath her, the wind weaving through the trees, the press of shadow closing in. The energy was alive, and she reached for it.
The creature lunged.
Angela’s hands flew up, and the force within her surged. Energy flooded her veins, wild and untamed—but this time, she fought to hold it. To shape it.
“No,” she whispered, forcing the storm to obey.
From her fingers erupted a torrent of pure light—blinding, fierce.
The creature shrieked as its tendrils writhed and burned, then vanished into ash.
But before Angela could breathe, more emerged.
Dozens of them. Crawling from the dark, each more twisted, more deformed, their glowing eyes fixed on her.
The clearing became a battlefield.
Zane tore into the fray, his body a weapon, fighting with feral rage. He was unstoppable, but even he began to falter against their numbers.
Theo moved like a strategist, each strike measured, each motion precise, a shield in the chaos.
Damian was merciless, a streak of shadow and crimson, ripping through the swarm with brutal efficiency. But there were too many.
Angela’s panic spiked. She wasn’t just a witness—she was the center. The target.
“Angela!” Theo’s voice cut through the storm. His eyes blazed with urgency. “Don’t look at us. Feel what’s around you. Feel what you are.”
Desperation swallowed her whole. She closed her eyes, clutching at his words.
And then she felt it.
The clearing pulsed. The trees hummed. The wind howled her name. The storm inside her was no longer chaos—it was a conduit.
The energy condensed, bright as a star, and she drew it in.
She raised her hands, and the light that burst forth was no longer just destruction—it was protection. A force that radiated outward, fierce and unyielding.
The shadows screamed as the wave crashed over them, torn apart in blinding brilliance, their twisted bodies disintegrating into nothing.
And then silence.
Angela dropped to her knees, gasping, her lungs and arms burning. The effort had drained her, stripped her bare.
But as exhaustion weighed her down, one truth lit inside her lik
e fire:
For the first time… she had controlled it.
And the taste of that power was intoxicating.