Chapter 20 Chapter 20

Chapter 20 Chapter 20
Chapter 20
I woke to the soft pulse of silver light filtering through the crystals above my bed. For a moment, I forgot where I was. No damp cabin floor, no fear of someone bursting in to drag me away. Just warmth and the faint scent of herbs. Then the mate bond tugged sharply in my chest, a deep ache that reminded me of everything I had left behind. Alaric. Nightcrest. The war that was probably already brewing because of me.
Morgana entered the chamber carrying fresh clothes—simple but well-made tunic and trousers in deep midnight blue. “Good morning. You slept deeply. That is a sign the sanctum is already helping stabilize your energy. Come, we have much to do today.”
I dressed quickly and followed her back to the training chamber. My body still hummed from yesterday’s exercises, but I felt more grounded. Drake’s essence was quieter, pushed into a corner of my mind like a caged animal. For now.
“We will start with control under pressure,” Morgana said. She waved her hand and several small orbs of moonlight appeared, floating around the room. “These will move faster as we go. Heal the targets I mark without letting the power spill into consumption. Focus.”
The orbs began to dart around me. I raised my hands and reached for the golden warmth inside. The first orb glowed with a red mark. I channeled healing energy toward it. A soft light wrapped around the orb, calming its frantic movement until it hovered peacefully. One down. Then two. Then three.
Morgana increased the pace. Sweat beaded on my forehead. One orb slipped past my defense and struck my shoulder. Pain flared, but I pushed through, pulling the healing back into balance. The orb stabilized.
“You hesitate less today,” she noted, circling me. “Good. Your mother struggled with the same balance in the beginning. The consuming side is seductive. It offers power without limits, but it erodes the soul if you let it.”
I nodded, breathing hard. “It almost took everything when I used it on Drake. I still feel him in here.” I pressed a hand to my chest. “Whispering sometimes.”
“We will tame that voice,” she promised. “Together.”
We trained for what felt like hours. She taught me to weave moonlight into thin shields that could deflect attacks, then to layer healing energy beneath them. I mended cracked stones, restored wilted flowers she brought in, and even managed to push a small burst of power outward without stealing anything. Each success made me stand taller. For the first time, my gift felt like something I could wield instead of something that controlled me.
During a short break, I drank from the shimmering water pitcher and asked the question burning inside me. “Have you felt anything outside? Alaric… my mate. There was going to be conflict with Silverfang because of me. Graham won’t stop.”
Morgana’s expression remained calm, but I caught a brief flicker in her silver eyes. “The sanctum shields us from most disturbances, but I sense movement in the world beyond. Silverfang wolves prowl near Nightcrest borders. Your Alaric fights bravely, but he is distracted searching for you. That distraction may cost his pack if you do not master yourself soon.”
Guilt stabbed through me, sharper than any training bruise. I set the cup down hard. “Then I need to go back. I can help. I can fight with them.”
“Not yet,” she said firmly, placing a hand on my shoulder. Her touch was cool and steady. “You are still raw, Nova. If you return now, uncontrolled, you risk harming those you care about. Graham’s forces grow bolder. They believe you hold Drake’s essence and want it back at any cost. Finish this phase of training. Three more days and you will be strong enough to stand at your mate’s side without fear.”
Three days. It sounded reasonable, but the mate bond twisted painfully at the delay. I could almost feel Alaric’s frustration bleeding through—distant howls and the clash of wolves in my mind. He was close to the sanctum somehow, or at least circling the area. The pull made my feet itch to run toward him.
We resumed training. This time Morgana created more challenging scenarios. She summoned illusions of Silverfang warriors—shadowy figures with familiar snarls. I practiced shielding while healing small wounds she inflicted on herself for demonstration. Her control was flawless. She could heal and shield and strike with moonlight in seamless flow. I studied every movement, hungry to learn.
By the time we stopped, my limbs trembled with exhaustion. But I had improved. A large cracked pillar in the chamber now stood whole again under my power. The scar on my face even felt slightly less tight, as if the constant inner storm was finally quieting.
“You carry your mother’s strength,” Morgana said as we walked back toward the sleeping chamber. There was real pride in her voice. “She would be pleased to see you like this.”
I wanted to believe her. The stories she told during meals—about my mother’s kindness, her quiet courage—filled holes I had carried my whole life. Yet every time the mate bond flared, doubt crept in. Alaric had protected me without asking for anything in return. Could I really stay hidden here while his pack bled because of me?
That night, as I lay in bed, the sanctum seemed quieter than before. Too quiet. I closed my eyes and reached through the mate bond with everything I had. Alaric… I’m safe. I’m training. I’ll come back soon. Please hold on.
A faint echo returned—his voice, rough with exhaustion and relief. Nova. Come back to me.
Tears slipped down my cheeks. I wanted to run to him right then. But Morgana’s words echoed too. If I went back weak, I would only make things worse. Graham’s war was my fault. I had to be ready.
Sleep came eventually, restless and filled with dreams of battle. Wolves clashing under moonlight. Alaric fighting alone on a bloodied field while I watched from behind invisible walls. When I woke, the crystals above pulsed faster, almost urgently.
Morgana was already waiting when I stepped into the training hall the next morning. “Today we push harder. Silverfang scouts have been spotted closer to this region. Time is not on our side.”
We trained without breaks this time. I learned to draw moonlight from the air itself during movement, creating flowing shields while I ran. I practiced pushing Drake’s essence into controlled bursts—using just enough of his stolen strength to amplify healing without letting it consume. It was terrifying and exhilarating.
Hours later, sweat-drenched and breathing hard, I managed to create a dome of silver-gold light that covered half the chamber. Morgana clapped once, the sound sharp in the stone room.
“Excellent. You are progressing faster than I expected.”
Before I could reply, a deep tremor ran through the sanctum. Dust trickled from the ceiling. The crystals flared bright red for a moment before returning to silver.
Morgana’s face tightened. “They are getting closer. Your mate and Graham’s forces both. The barriers won’t hide us forever.”
My heart raced. “Then let me go to them. I can help now.”
She shook her head. “One more day of intensive training. Then we will open a path. You must trust the process, Nova. Our bloodline has survived this long because we prepare.”
I nodded, but inside, the conflict tore at me. Training felt right. Learning control felt necessary. But every tremor through the stone reminded me that wolves were dying outside while I hid in this glowing cage.
As we continued into the evening session, I poured everything into the exercises. For Alaric. For Nightcrest. For the chance at a future where I was not just surviving, but standing strong beside my mate.
Yet when another tremor shook the sanctum—stronger this time—and I caught Morgana watching me with an unreadable intensity, a small voice in the back of my mind whispered that something was still not right.
I ignored it and kept training.