Chapter 54

**Freya‘s pov**.

The air was thick with the scent of sun-warmed grass and metal. Tiberius and I stood face to face on the training field, both already coated in sweat. The midday sun beat down on us, but I barely noticed. My eyes were locked on the blades in his hands—and the matching ones in mine.

I was fast. Damn fast. And when it came to daggers, my hands moved like they were born for it. We danced through footwork drills, slicing the air, parrying and twisting. Tiberius grunted once when I nearly clipped his ribs. I smirked.

"Show-off," he muttered.

"Says the guy who trains shirtless and glistens like a battle god," I shot back.

He barked a laugh, then tossed me a heavier blade.

That’s when the real challenge began.

Axes, spears, longswords—each new weapon made me feel clumsy and slow. I stumbled, overreached, lost my grip.

"Why does this feel so foreign?" I huffed, trying to balance a short sword.

Tiberius came up behind me, adjusting my hands. "Because you’re thinking too much. Your head’s elsewhere. Focus, Freya. You lose focus, you die."

I swallowed. He was right. Again.

We moved through the motions for what felt like hours. I asked a million questions. He answered most with gruff patience, sometimes with teasing.

"Do all hunters train with this many weapons?"

"Yes. In battle, you use what you can grab. Even a spoon, if needed."

"You’re joking."

"Ask Victor about the soup ladle incident."

That made me laugh so hard I dropped the sword.

Soon we weren’t alone. Children gathered around the field. Little boys who shouted Tiberius’ name, mimicking his moves. Girls who watched me wide-eyed, whispering and giggling.

The field rang with their excited shouts.

"Get him, Freya!"

"No, go Tiberius!"

He grinned at me. I grinned back. Then he lunged and nearly took my ankle out.

We both hit the ground laughing.

When we finally called it, drenched and grinning, I heard a tiny voice pipe up behind us.

"I’m gonna be as strong as Tiberius one day," said a boy with a wooden sword.

A girl beside him pointed at me. "And I’ll be his mate! But strong like her."

Tiberius and I exchanged a look, bursting into laughter.

"Careful," I whispered to him, "the competition’s getting younger."

"Damn. I’m losing my edge."

He looked at me with a warm, familiar fire. "Now, it’s question time. What’s been chewing at that sharp mind of yours?"

I hesitated, then reached up, brushing the hair behind my ear. "Your runes. Will I get ones like that?"

He sobered instantly. "Runes come when you’re ready. Sometimes slowly, one by one. Sometimes all at once. They appear to mark strength—milestones in your growth."

He stepped closer, brushing a finger near my ear.

"But you already have one. Behind your ear. An ancient one. It means leadership. And strength."

I blinked. "That was... there all along?"

"Some appear when you’re born for something. Yours is rare. Eira will explain more."

He led me through the winding halls to her cottage.

Eira met us at the door with a warm smile that melted something inside me. She radiated calm.

"Freya," she greeted. "Come in, child. Tiberius?"

He shook his head. "I know our history. Freya needs it more."

She raised an amused brow. "Still allergic to patience, I see."

He smirked, winked at me, and left.

Eira sighed fondly. "That boy never had time for books. But he’s got heart. Come, sit."

She poured us tea, the scent of chamomile and mint settling the air.

"Let’s begin. Hunters are not warriors. We’re guardians of balance. We maintain order between the species—wolves, witches, vampires, humans. We make sure no one dominates the rest."

I nodded slowly.

"Wolves are our main focus," she said. "Their expansion must be contained. There can be no forced turning—no involuntary transformations. It’s forbidden. I’ll give you a list of books you’ll need to learn more. There’s so much history and structure behind our role.

In the East, the borders lean heavily toward vampire territory. Of course, there are wolves there as well, but vampires dominate most of the land. Hunters operate there too, keeping order, ensuring balance, watching for territorial overreach, and making sure the ancient pacts are respected.

One of the best examples of cooperation is between witches and sorcerers. They work hand-in-hand with hunters. In fact, two hunters sit on the witches’ council, receiving direct updates on magical affairs. Their borders haven’t been crossed in generations. It’s a shining example of awareness, respect, and mutual protection.

Sadly, that’s not the case between vampires and werewolves. In their eyes, we’re not guardians—we’re butchers. Shadowblood assassins who exist only to wipe them out. Their legends speak of betrayal and massacre, and while exaggerated, it’s not completely unfounded.

I raised a brow. "And yet... from what I’ve seen and heard, some hunters *do* target wolves like it’s sport. They act like they’re better. Like they were made to kill."

Eira smiled sadly. "And that’s why we’ve lost the respect of many. We’ve allowed zealots to define us. But we must return to what we were. Peacemakers. Protectors. Even Tiberius, for all his strength, holds a deep resentment. His father was killed by wolves. He doesn’t care if they’re rogue or civilized. It’s a wound that hasn’t healed."

She leaned closer. "But you, Freya... you could help change that. Restore balance. We must change and must rebuild trust."

I snorted. "No pressure, huh?"

She laughed. "One step at a time."

I showed her the rune behind my ear.

She gasped. "It’s a rune of sacrifice and strength. Ancient. Rare. Only the chosen carry it."

"What does it do?"

"It guides. It gives wisdom in hard choices. It’s activated. But other runes, like those tied to weapons, awaken differently. They bond with the soul."

She held up a book. "Laya’s bow, for example, becomes deadly in her hands alone. Your daggers? Lucius’ flame kissed them. They chose you for a reason."

We talked for hours. Then the talk drifted to lighter topics—weather, dresses, tea.

A knock at the door broke the moment.

"Ladies," Tiberius called. "Miss me?"

Eira beamed. "Always."

He looked at me. "Time to go, Freya."

I thanked Eira, hugged her, and promised to return. She lent me several books.

Tiberius rolled his eyes. "Ugh, books. Never liked 'em."

I laughed. "Figures. You seem more like a physical learner."

Then I paused, realizing how that sounded. My cheeks flamed.

He grinned. "Never shied from good physical work."

We both laughed all the way home.

Once inside, he turned serious.

"Freya. I have a house, 200 km out. Stocked, safe. We’ll head there in a few days."

I nodded. "Do you think we’ll succeed?"

He took my face in his hands. "It’s not *if*. It’s how long. You’ll reconnect with your wolf and your hunter. I believe that."

"And Dorian?"

Tiberius sighed. "I’ll contact him. I have ways."

I looked away. "What if he doesn’t help? He’s betrothed. Maybe he’s moved on."

"Then he’s a fool," Tiberius said. "And we’ll manage without him."

I swallowed. "This is all insane. Blind faith, trusting a shaman and his cryptic riddles."

He pulled me into a hug.

"I’ll risk everything. Will you?"

I buried my face into his chest and nodded.

"Thank you, Tiberius... for staying."