The shift from Emin's grueling endurance run to Damaris's magical instruction was utterly jarring.
Where the Alpha demanded physical exhaustion, the Warlock demanded absolute stillness. They were two people with completely different tactics.
Damaris had expanded a small, dry tunnel into a crude laboratory. Crystalline scrying lenses and arcane tools lay on a salvaged table with infuriating, sterile precision.
The air hummed with contained, cold power. That appearance alone showed the character Damaris had.
When Ravenna entered, he didn't look up. He was adjusting a piece of quartz that glowed with a faint, chilling blue light.
"Your Lycan exercises are counterproductive," Damaris stated, his voice flat. His pale eyes finally lifted.
"You flood your body with kinetic energy and wonder why your magic explodes. We must establish a baseline. Sit."
Ravenna sat on a crate across from him, feeling the cold, analytical weight of his gaze. The Mate Bond vibrated between them with a constant stream of annoyance and calculation.
"No demands, Warlock," Ravenna warned, leaning back. "I set the rules."
Damaris paused. A flicker of intense irritation crossed his features. He hated the reminder.
"We are not dealing with demands, Hybrid," he corrected, his tone condescending. "We are dealing with logic. Your power is an unstable formula. I will solve it."
He looked at her with chilling detachment.
"You will participate because the solution ensures your survival. That is logical self-interest, not control."
He picked up a thin, black rod.
"The Coven is based on controlling emotion. We use clear logic to remove the world's chaotic noise. Magic requires order and precision. You must first learn to quiet the noise in your own mind."
He gave a thin, humorless smile.
"When I was raised in the Shadowed Spires, fear was not allowed. Grief was inefficient. I was trained to be the perfect instrument of the Coven's will."
He gestured to the quartz.
"This is why I despise the Mate Bond. It forces emotion upon the perfect equation. It is a flaw."
Damaris began the lesson. He didn't teach her to make a fireball or shield. He taught her Grounding.
"Close your eyes," he instructed. "Feel the earth. Draw only the cold, steady magic from the rock. Anchor it in your core."
"The Lycan part of you will fight this. It prefers to steal energy from the air, from motion. You must force the stillness."
Ravenna closed her eyes. She reached out.
She felt the ancient, cold magic of the earth. It was clean. Predictable. She pulled a single, cool thread toward her center.
The moment the stable Witch energy entered her body, the Lycan side revolted.
The discipline felt like a cage. Her primal half screamed against the stillness. Demanding motion. Heat. Aggression. It was a wild animal suddenly chained.
The two forces—cold precision and hot chaos—collided inside her.
A shockwave of raw, pushing energy violently burst from her center.
CRACK!
The primary scrying lens exploded into glittering dust. The humming quartz shattered, its light dying instantly.
The concussive force rattled the other arcane tools, sending them skittering across the stone floor.
The air filled with the sharp, acidic stench of burnt magic and ozone.
Damaris threw up a shimmering blue shield instantly, deflecting the worst of the debris. The force still made him stagger back one step.
When the smoke cleared, his crude lab was a wreck. Everything had fallen apart due to the power came out from Ravenna.
But he wasn't angry. He looked utterly fascinated.
"Remarkable," he murmured, stepping over the debris. His grey eyes were alight with scientific curiosity.
"The kinetic force of the Lycan power actively rejects the grounding spell. It is not merely inefficient; it is violently opposed to stillness. A fascinating defensive mechanism."
He knelt, examining the shattered remains of his tools.
"My training, designed to stabilize the prophesied Hybrid, is fundamentally flawed. I was raised to believe the solution was always greater control."
"Well, your control just made your expensive toys explode," Ravenna said, rubbing her temples. A headache was already blooming.
"Precisely," Damaris confirmed. He rose to his feet. His mind was already racing down a new, logical path.
"Your power is too unique to categorize. To stabilize the magic, we must first stabilize the animal. The stillness cannot be forced until the chaos is understood."
He turned, glancing toward the tunnels where Emin was likely running patrol. A muscle in his jaw twitched with professional annoyance.
"This changes the logistics," Damaris announced. "I cannot teach you logic when your body is demanding rage. You must achieve Lycan discipline first, to allow the Witch side to breathe."
"You want the Alpha to continue training me?" Ravenna asked, surprised.
"I don't want the Alpha to touch you," Damaris corrected, his tone venomous. "But logically, his methods address the immediate problem: the physical manifestation of your chaos. We must reluctantly become co-trainers."
He looked at her, and his controlled appearance softened, showing the intense, focused ambition that truly motivated him.
"He will temper the body. I will temper the mind. You need both the rigid order of the Alpha and the cold precision of the Warlock to survive, Ravenna. We are bound to you, and now, logically, we must be bound to each other's success."
He gave her a directive based purely on cold, hard logic, not dominance.
"Go. Submit to the Alpha's endurance training. It is the most efficient path to our shared survival."
Ravenna pushed to her feet. The scent of burnt magic clung to her clothes.
She realized that while Damaris was cold, his actions were driven by a desperate, lifelong need for order.
She had traded one cage for two reluctant, feuding professors.
She left the shattered lab, heading back toward the harsh sunlight, knowing the next lesson would be waiting: the one with Asher, the only one who truly understood freedom.