Chapter Twelve
Elora's POV
I made sure to confirm if thwre was going to be training today. What happened the last time actually made me more cautious!
I watched as professor Daren walked towards the sword rack, while he grabbed the one of the swords there. It wasn't a normal one.
Honestly, I still don't get the concept of werewolves using swords to practice when they could just transform.
"Transforming all the time when one is in danger might weaken most students. Using swords has been amongst our legacy for quite a while now, and I don't think we will stop using it anytime soon." He stated.
What the fuck? How the hell was he able to figure out what I was thinking?
"Oh, i had no idea"
He turned back to face me, holding it loosely, like it weighed nothing at all. "For beginners, strength is not the first thing," he said. "Speed is not either."
I frowned. "Then what is?"
"Focus." His eyes locked onto mine. "If your mind wanders, your body will follow. And that is how you get hurt."
He walked past me and stopped a few steps away. "There's a basic skill we teach first years who can't fight yet. It's called the Anchor Step."
"Anchor?" I repeated.
"You anchor yourself to the ground," he said. "No panicking and you do not have to rush too. You learn to stay present even when someone is coming for you."
He demonstrated slowly. His feet shifted. One foot forward, the other angled slightly back. His knees bent just a little. His shoulders relaxed, not stiff. The sword stayed low, not raised.
"Most people lift their weapon too high," he said. "That exposes the ribs. You keep it here." He adjusted his grip. "Close to your body. Like it's an extension of your arm."
I tried to copy him.
Immediately, it felt wrong.
My balance wobbled. My foot slid. I nearly tripped over myself.
He sighed quietly but not in an annoyed way. "You're thinking too much."
"I'm trying," I muttered.
"Trying isn't the same as focusing." He stepped closer. "Clear your head. Pretend nothing else exists. Not the school and Not whatever memory is chasing you."
That stung because it was true. The fact that I caug
I inhaled deeply and adjusted my stance again.
"Good," he said. "Now the rule is simple. Before you attack, before you defend, before you move, you breathe."
He demonstrated again. A slow breath in. A slow breath out. Then one smooth step forward, the sword cutting through the air in a clean arc.
"No wasted movement," he said. "Every move has a purpose."
I tried.
My swing was awkward and I noticed that it was a little bit too wide. My wrist bent the wrong way.
"No," he said immediately. "Stop."
I froze.
"Reset," he said. "Anchor first."
I did it again. First, it was my knees and other parts thenI made sure the breath was accurate.
This time, my swing was slower but steadier.
"Better," he said. "Again."
Minutes passed. Or maybe longer. Sweat gathered at my temples. My arms started to ache. Each time, something was off. My foot turned wrong. My grip loosened. My timing failed.
Frustration crawled up my chest.
"I'm not getting it," I said finally, lowering the sword. Maybe I wasn't made for things like this in the end?
"You are," he said. "You're just impatient."
I huffed. "I look stupid."
He tilted his head. "Everyone looks stupid at first."
I raised the sword again and tried once more.
Wrong.
Again.
Wrong.g
My shoulders slumped. "I can't."
Before I could step back, he moved.
I felt him behind me before I fully registered it. His presence was close. Too close. Heat radiated from him. Goosebumps crawled up my skin immediately his hand touched me
What the hell was this feeling?
"Don't tense up," he said softly.
Then his hands were on me.
One hand gently adjusted my grip, his fingers brushing mine. The other rested near my waist, guiding my posture. My breath caught instantly.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
"You're holding it like you're afraid it will hurt you," he murmured. "Trust the weapon."
Shivers ran down my spine.
He shifted my stance slightly, his leg aligning with mine. "Feel the ground," he said. "Let it support you."
I swallowed hard.
"Now breathe," he said near my ear.
I did.
His hand guided my wrist. "You'll move it this way."
He moved me through the motion slowly. Step. Turn. Swing.
The sword cut cleanly through the air.
I gasped softly.
"Again," he said.
We repeated it. His hands steady. Patient. Firm but careful.
Each movement felt smoother than the last.
"That's it," he said. "You see? Your body understands. You just have to stop fighting yourself."
My face felt hot. I didn't know if it was from the training or from how close he was. What the hell am I thinking? This man here is my professor, and he is about 15 years older than me according to what I have heard.
"Are you in a relationship with Lys?" I finally decided to ask the question that has been bothering me. "The other day—"
I noticed that he stopped moving immediately I asked. "You really are audacious. What makes you think that I will tell you the truth?"
"Are you not scared about what will happen once they could get to discover the truth?"
"As long as you keep your mouth shut. No one will get to know about it." He immediately stated. "Let's us continue with whatever we are doing."
He stepped back suddenly, clearing the space between us.
"Practice that," he said, his voice back to its usual calm tone. "One hundred times. No rushing."
I nodded, gripping the sword tightly.
As I moved into position again, my heart was still racing. But this time, my feet felt steadier.
Anchored. I did it!
**********
I got back to the dorm late, tired and sore from training. The hallway was quiet, but that wasn't unusual. I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
"Darcey?" I called. Something felt really weird,
It was the smell that filled up the air.
She didn't answer. I bet she must have gone for another round of hunting. My hand found the lamp as I managed to turn it on. I felt a warm liquid right beside my legs.
That's when I saw her.
She was on the floor beside the bed, blood everywhere. It took a second for my brain to register it, to understand that she wasn't sleeping, that she was dead.
The bag which I was holding fell off my hands. My lips quivered on seeing her body.
My hands started shaking. I backed away, my chest tight, my ears ringing.
Something outside caught my attention. I looked up at the window.
Words filled the sky, dark and unmistakable. Someone really did this to pass a message to me. This isn't how I planned to start in this school.
Being tagged as a murder suspect.
"WELCOME. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING."