The storm came at dusk.
It wasn't rain or thunder. It was something darker. A stillness that dropped over the mansion like a veil, warning me, but not loud enough.
Luthor had left the room hours ago. After my outburst. After I dared to challenge him.
He didn't shout. He didn't scold. He simply vanished into the stone halls like a ghost. Just like he always did when something cracked between us. And though I hated myself for it, I had hoped he would return. Maybe with answers. Or a change of heart.
But he didn't.
So I went looking for them on my own.
I wandered the corridors of the mansion, torchlight flickering across ancient tapestries and forgotten armor. The walls whispered old secrets. I wasn't afraid, not anymore. I usually ahm, but this time I wasn't.
Not until I reached the west wing. The door was slightly ajar. And something in the air… it was wrong.
Colder than it should be. Still. Too still.
I stepped inside, one hand on the dagger I had taken from the war room earlier that morning. Just in case.
Then I saw him.
Not Luthor. Not a guard.
But a man dressed in black, his face veiled in shadow, standing in the center of the room like he'd been waiting for me all along.
"You shouldn't be here," he said, voice low and sharp like broken glass.
"Who are you?" I demanded, blade in hand.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he moved.
Fast.
Faster than anyone I'd ever seen.
The next thing I knew, I was on the ground, air punched out of my lungs, the dagger spinning uselessly across the marble floor.
He didn't speak again. He didn't need to.
He came to kill me.
His hands found my throat. Ice-cold fingers, stronger than iron. My vision blurred. I kicked. I clawed. I tried to scream, but no sound escaped.
Was this it? Was this how it ended?
My thoughts raced. Jareth. My parents. The village. Would they all die again in my memories, replaying over and over until the light went out for good?
I fought harder. Not because I thought I could win.
But because I wasn't ready to lose.
Then light.
Blinding. White. Violent.
And heat.
A force slammed into the attacker, ripping him off me and hurling him against the wall with bone-crushing force. I gasped, air flooding back into my lungs as I curled into myself, coughing and shaking.
Through the haze, I saw him.
Luthor.
Eyes glowing like molten metal, hand outstretched, cloak swirling with magic I couldn't name.
The man in black groaned, half-conscious. Luthor raised his hand again, and this time, the fire came.
Real fire.
Not red, not orange
But Blue, like fury incarnate.
The man screamed. Then he didn't.
And all that was left was smoke and the scent of ash.
Luthor rushed to me, kneeling, his hand gentle as it cupped the back of my head. "Elira," he breathed. "Are you hurt?"
I nodded, dizzy, weak. "I. he tried to.."
"I know." His voice was steel. "He was one of Lucien's shadows. I should've known they'd send one here. I never should've left you alone."
"You saved me…" My voice broke. "If you hadn't come…"
His eyes met mine. And for once, the mask dropped.
There was no unreadable calm. No cold calculation.
Just rage. And fear.
And guilt.
"I promised to protect you," he said, barely above a whisper. "And I almost failed."
"No," I said, gripping his cloak weakly. "You didn't fail. But I can't be like this anymore. I can't keep relying on people to save me."
"Elira…"
"No!" I met his gaze, steady this time. "Train me, Luthor. Please. I want to fight. I need to."
He looked at me, torn.
Then finally, he exhaled.
"Fine," he said, rising to his feet. "At dawn tomorrow, your training begins. But Elira…" He paused, voice sharp again. "Once you start down this path, there's no turning back."
I stood, shakily but certain.
"I don't want to turn back."
And in that moment, I saw it,
The faintest smile tugging at the edge of his lips.
Not pride. Not affection.
But approval.
Something I had earned.
And as I limped back with him through the halls, I knew one thing:
The girl I had been was gone.
The Alpha was waking.