Chapter 40

Chapter 40
Outside the east wing, the world moved to a much harsher rhythm. Brown dust billowed across the main training arena, thick as fog, coloring the late afternoon air with the smell of sweat, trampled earth, and heated adrenaline. In the center of this controlled chaos stood Alpha Orion, a statue of locked-down rage. His movements in the sparring duel were fast and brutal, every punch and kick calculated with deadly precision.

He fought against three warriors at once—Caleb, and two other veteran wolves—yet it was as if he were only warming up. Orion did not speak; he only attacked, allowing his raw anger to be a cruel teacher. Caleb, whose strength was renowned, was thrown backward after receiving a blow to his ribs that nearly fractured them. Orion did not stop to ask if he was alright.

"Get up, Caleb! If Draven comes, he won't give you time to complain!" Orion roared, his voice hoarse and fraught with excessive stress. He wasn't yelling out of anger, but out of necessity, as if every second of rest was a luxury they couldn't afford.

On the edge of the field, Beta Liam stood with his arms crossed, his expression reflecting deep concern. It had been three days since Alena returned, and for those three days, Orion had led training sessions with an intensity he usually reserved for the week before a major battle. The warriors were exhausted, but no one dared to protest.

When Orion finally downed the last opponent with a quick, efficient leg sweep, he walked toward the water supply, ignoring the respectful yet fearful gazes of his warriors. Liam seized the opportunity and approached him.

"You're going to kill them before Draven even touches our border," Liam said, his tone low and urgent.

Orion drank from his leather canteen, water dripping from the corner of his mouth and soaking his dirty training shirt. His muscles were tense, and his eyes held a cold, gray intensity.

"I'm not training them to be comfortable, Liam. I'm training them to survive. You know what we're facing," Orion replied, shifting his gaze toward the dark woods to the north.

"I know about Draven. I also know about exhaustion. This isn't preparation, it's punishment. And everyone feels it," Liam countered, gesturing toward Caleb who was just now limping to his feet.
Orion scoffed. "Caleb needs pushing. He's too complacent."

"You're the one who is too wound up, Orion," Liam pressed. "Since she came back, you're like... you can't be still. You lead every patrol, you lead every training session. You don't sleep. This pack needs a sane leader, not a machine driven by anger."

Orion turned abruptly, glaring at his Beta. "My anger is what's keeping us alive. Don't try to be a psychiatrist, Liam. Your job is to make sure they follow orders, not to question my methods."

"My job is to be your Beta," Liam said with a rare firmness. "That means I have to tell you when you're making irrational decisions, or when you're using military discipline to cover a personal problem."
Silence hung between them. Orion knew Liam was right, but admitting it meant acknowledging that Alena's return had disrupted his fragile balance.

"My personal issues have nothing to do with my pack's readiness," Orion snapped.

"Doesn't it? You're driving yourself to the limit because you can't be in the Great House and smell her scent. You refuse to see her, you ignore her, but her presence is like a poison seeping into the pack, because you haven't given clear direction," Liam said, lowering his voice.

"Everyone is afraid of her, Orion. And they're afraid of you because of your reaction."

Orion clenched his fist, his knuckles white. "What am I supposed to say? 'Hey, this is the Luna I rejected at the altar, and now she's back with power that could kill us all, but could also save us'?"

"You could start by acknowledging the fact that she is your destined mate, and that you acted like an idiot years ago," Liam cut in sharply. "That would reduce the tension by fifty percent."

Orion shook his head. "No. I can't. The bond is torn. You know that. I tore it myself. What came back is something else. Something dangerous."

"Dangerous because she's powerful, or dangerous because she forces you to confront the past?" Liam challenged.

Orion turned away again, his breath shaking. "She is an anomaly. Her power is raw, Liam. You saw what she did at the border. That's not ordinary wolf power. It's something primitive, wild.
And I cannot put my pack under the control of something unstable. She will remain under surveillance until I know exactly what she is and what she wants."

Liam sighed heavily, accepting that he wouldn't win this argument.

"Alright. But give them a break tomorrow morning. At least for an hour. I don't want to see anyone collapsing in the training ditch."

Orion nodded, the exhaustion radiating from his shoulders. "Fine. Make sure Caleb gets medicine for his ribs, too. Don't let Zara do it. She'll lecture me again."

"Zara is just worried, just like I am," Liam said, before offering a small, forced smile. "Go get some rest. You need it."

Orion walked away, leaving Liam alone in the dusty arena. Liam watched his Alpha's tense back. He knew Orion wouldn't rest. Orion would simply move to the war room, trying to solve Draven, or more accurately, trying to solve the Alena problem from a tactical standpoint. Liam could only hope that Orion's stubbornness wouldn't destroy them all.

Back in her isolated room, Alena had spent hours trying to calm herself after Zara's touch. The contact, though sincere, had heightened her sensitivity to the rejection scar area, leaving a throbbing ache.

She had retrieved the parchment fragment she dropped, and now sat in the chair, tightly holding the small artifact. The word PRIMORDIAL on the paper felt like a magnet pulling energy from her core. The sharp psychic pain came and went in waves, not like a physical wound, but like a sound that was too loud.

Alena touched the scar on her ribs, then looked at the paper again. The power she gained in exile—the ability to manipulate raw, near-magical energy, the ability to glimpse the future or the past—had always felt wild, yet tethered to her. However, whenever she touched this parchment, she felt the power sharpen, become more focused, but also more menacing.

She realized something. Every time she used her power to an extreme, like at the border, the rejection scar felt hot, as if the torn bond was still trying to draw energy from her.

"You're not just paper," Alena whispered to the parchment, her eyes narrowing as she tried to see beyond its surface.
Alena focused her energy, summoning the power that had now become a part of her. No need to shift form, only to channel the wave of pure energy that felt like cold electricity to her fingertips.

As her energy touched the ancient parchment, the word PRIMORDIAL glowed briefly, emitting a faint blue light that quickly dimmed. Alena flinched, pulling her hand away. The sensation she felt was not paper, but something organic, something that breathed.

It was as if the parchment were a key. A key that not only unlocked the secret to her power, but also the reason why Orion rejected her, the reason why the Elders were so afraid of her. It wasn't just destiny; it was a lineage that possessed the power to destroy, or to save.

The psychic pain returned, this time accompanied by a brief flash in her mind: a pair of glowing red eyes, not those of a wolf, but of an older, more sinister being—Draven's eyes. The flash lasted only a second, but it left a chilling coldness on her back.

He knows. He's looking for me.
Alena clenched the parchment fragment. If this paper was the center of all the chaos, then she had to guard it. She had to understand what she held before Draven or Orion took it from her. She realized that the word PRIMORDIAL didn't just refer to her lineage, but perhaps to the very material nature of the parchment itself—something that dated back to a time before modern wolf packs existed. This torn fragment was a map to a truth that could change the entire Lycan world, and she was the only one holding it.

Alena made a decision. She needed to find out more about this parchment, and there was only one person who might have that knowledge: Lyra, the Elder who had access to the ancient texts. However, Alena had to be careful. Lyra was an Elder, and trust was a luxury she couldn't afford in this place.

Hiding the parchment under her clothes, Alena stood up. The scar on her ribs still pulsed, but now the pain was mixed with a cold determination. Orion might think he was watching her, but Alena knew she carried a secret far more dangerous than her raw power.

The power now demanded attention, as if the paper was the fuse, and Alena was the gunpowder ready to explode. She held the end of that torn thread, aware that every tiny piece of her past was now a hidden time bomb, ready to be pulled by Draven's encroaching threat.