Chapter 76 Strength in silence
IRIS
It’s been days since I said goodbye to Darian.
No message, no knock, nothing.
I sit on the wooden porch, knees pulled close, fingers tracing cracks in the boards. The sky is pale, the wind whispering through pines. My heart feels hollow with worry.
I hear soft footsteps approaching behind me. Grandfather steps out quietly, in jeans and a worn sweater, carrying a firm but soft look. He claims a chair beside me and settles without a word.
“How are you doing, Iris?”
I keep my eyes forward, wind whipping at hair. I don’t answer.
He turns to me. His voice softer. “I know we’ve argued. But I need to know, are you holding up?”
I inhale sharply. “Why do you care?” My voice trembles.
His eyes flick downward. “Because I do. Whether or not you accept it, you are family. You live here. I promised to keep you safe. And this… this silence isn’t peace.”
I look out over the yard, trees budding, sunlight warm but not enough to thaw the cold inside me. “Darian hasn’t reached out. I’ve checked my phone a hundred times. Nothing. What if something in the Haven is wrong?”
He shifts, leaning forward. “He’s resourceful. He knows you matter too much to leave you vulnerable. If he’s staying quiet, there’s a reason.”
I snort, bitterness bubbling. “That’s a nice theory. But what if he’s trapped? Or hurt?”
He puts a hand gently over mine. “I don’t believe that for you. He’s not the kind to vanish without purpose.”
I draw back my hand, wrapping the blanket tighter around me. “Do you believe I’m enough? That it’s not all just prophecy and danger?”
He studies me. “I believe in you. More than you know.”
We sit in silence for a moment. Irony stings , he, protector and betrayer, offering comfort. Me, needing it but unsure.
Then he leans forward, eyes firm. “Tell me, have you been able to shift fully? Since the night you figured out what you are?”
My throat closes. “No. Not completely. I felt something deep, in the moment Darian stopped me from crossing a line, but it vanished.”
He nods. “The bond doesn’t always cooperate. It comes in flashes. It needs confrontation, emotion, extreme push.”
I close my eyes. “What if it never fully happens?” My voice trembles. “What if I stay in between; never fully wolf, never human enough?”
He takes a shallow breath. “You’ll awaken it when the time is right. Your heart and your will, they’ll guide it. And you have Darian.”
My voice breaks. “But he’s silent now.”
His gaze softens. “Silence doesn’t always mean abandonment. He might be protecting you by staying hidden.”
I swallow. My chest feels tight. “I’m scared.”
He squeezes my hand. “You’ve more courage than you know. He chose you before knowing your strength. And he will again, when he returns.”
I nod, blink back tears.
He lets the silence stretch.
My breath comes a little easier with the stillness, even if my chest still aches.
Then, he shifts in his seat.
“Iris,” he says, voice low but deliberate, “have you trained?”
I blink, turning to glance at him. “Trained?”
He sees the confusion cross my face. His brows draw slightly, not unkind. “Combat.”
A small scoff escapes before I can stop it. “No. Of course not.”
He studies me again, this time more critically. Not in the cold way he used to, when I first arrived and he didn’t know what to do with me, but with a quiet weight of concern.
“You’ll need to,” he says finally. “Whether you want to or not.”
I frown, arms tightening around my knees. “Is that really necessary?”
He leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped.
“You’re not just a girl with questions anymore. You’re bound to something old, something hunted. You’re part of a world that doesn’t give you the luxury of being unprepared.”
My stomach twists. I
Everything feels too peaceful to talk about danger. Too soft to mention blood. And honestly, I’d prefer it that way.
“Darian’s absence doesn’t mean the threat is gone,” he continues. “It might mean it’s closer than ever.”
I look down at the porch, tracing the edge of a crack with my finger. “I know.”
He lets out a breath. “I don’t say this to scare you. But you’ve been thrust into something ancient and dangerous. You need to know how to fight. How to defend yourself. No one else can do that for you.”
I nod, slowly. “So what… you’re going to teach me how to throw a punch?”
He actually cracks a small smile. “Among other things.”
I glance over at him again. “You think I can do this?”
His expression softens again. “I know you can. Strength isn’t just about shifting. It’s about what you do when the moment demands more than fear.”
I look down again, quiet. A breeze brushes past, tugging strands of hair into my face. I brush them away, heart still heavy but… something else taking root beneath it. Not excitement. Not yet. But purpose. Maybe.
“Alright,” I murmur.
“Alright?”
“You can train me.” I shrug one shoulder. “You’re right. If something happens… I don’t want to just stand there. I want to be able to fight back.”
He nods, as if he expected this answer, though relief flickers in his eyes. “We’ll start tomorrow morning.”
My eyebrows lift. “Tomorrow?”
“No sense waiting. We’ll start slow. Stances, balance, breath work. Then control. If shifting is going to come, we need to make sure your body can handle what follows.”
I sigh, not exactly thrilled by the idea of dragging myself out of bed for drills and bruises. But deep down, I understand. I’m tired of feeling helpless. Of sitting on porches waiting for answers that don’t come. If I can’t find Darian… if he doesn’t return…
Then I have to become someone strong enough to survive that alone.
“Okay,” I say again, louder this time. “Tomorrow.”
He rises from his chair, joints cracking faintly as he does. “Get some rest tonight. You’ll need it.”
I give him a tired half-smile. “Thanks for the warning.”
He hesitates a moment, as if he wants to say more, maybe offer some encouragement, or maybe admit that this, too, scares him. But instead, he just gives a small nod and steps off the porch, his boots crunching against gravel as he heads back inside.
I stay seated a little longer, watching the last rays of sunlight drip through the trees.
My fingers curl around the edge of the porch, gripping the wood.
Everything is so uncertain and the uncertainty is driving me crazy. But tomorrow, I will train.
And maybe that’s the first step toward becoming someone who can face what’s coming.