Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
The East Chamber is yet another cavern. Unlike the residential areas with their polished floors and comfortable furnishings, this space feels ancient and raw.
The unfinished stone walls rise to a natural dome high above, where a circular opening allows a beam of sunlight to pierce the dimness.
The light creates a perfect circle on the chamber floor, illuminating a design carved into the stone—a crescent moon embracing a starburst pattern.
Ryker waits in the center of the light circle, his massive frame seeming somehow larger in this space.
Around the chamber’s edges, I spot other wolves.
Lithia stands with arms crossed, her silver eyes watchful.
Dane leans against a column, his gaze steady, his posture deceptively relaxed.
He shares his sister’s height and elegance, the same striking bone structure, the same pale silver-blue eyes that gleam like frost under moonlight.
But where Lithia is carved from ice and discipline, Dane radiates a gentle warmth.
His hair is the same white blond, though shorter, and tousled rather than slicked back. He watches with the intensity of someone who’s always listening.
I turn my attention to the others in the room; I don’t recognize those that observe from the shadows.
An audience. My stomach tightens with anxiety.
“Don’t mind them,” Ryker says as I approach, reading my hesitation. “They’re here to learn, not judge.”
I’m not convinced, but I step into the circle of light regardless, feeling exposed under the gazes of so many wolves.
“What exactly are we doing?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
“Testing boundaries.” Ryker circles me slowly, his movements deliberate. “Your gift has been abused for years, ripped out when convenient, ignored when not. We’re going to see what happens when it’s actually nurtured.”
The way he says it makes my chest tighten. No one has ever described my treatment in such terms—abuse. It was always necessity or duty or service to the pack. Never something done to me, but rather something expected from me.
“How?” I ask.
“By learning to access your gift voluntarily first.” He stops behind me, close enough that I can feel the heat of him against my back. “No more bleeding. No more pain.”
I can’t help my skeptical laugh. “That’s not how it works. The visions come when they want to, or they’re forced. There’s no middle ground.”
“There is.” His hands come to rest on my shoulders, firm but gentle. “Cheyenne found it. You will too.”
Before I can process this, he continues, his voice pitched for the entire chamber to hear.
“A seer’s gift operates on three levels.
First, passive visions, dreams, flashes, impressions that come unbidden.
Second, focused sight, deliberately turning your attention to a specific person, place, or event to see its possible futures or pasts.
Third, immersive vision. Completely entering a prophetic state to witness events in their fullness. ”
His hands slide down my arms, leaving fire in their wake. “You’ve experienced the first naturally. The third has been forced from you, at great cost. Today, we’ll work on the second.”
“How?” I ask again, my voice barely a whisper.
I feel his smile against my hair. “By giving your wolf something to protect.”
Before I can question this cryptic statement, he steps away. The sudden absence of his warmth makes me shiver.
“Lithia,” he calls. “Come forward.”
The scarred enforcer approaches, her movements liquid and predatory. Up close, her beauty is even more striking, all sharp angles and deadly grace.
“The Alpha Female will attempt to see your next move,” Ryker explains. “Nothing lethal.”
Lithia’s smile is all fang. “Of course, Alpha.”
My heart pounds against my ribs. “I don’t understand. What am I supposed to—”
“Focus on her,” Ryker instructs, circling behind me again. “Don’t look at what she is doing, try to see what she will do next.”
Lithia begins to circle me, her silver eyes never leaving mine. I’ve seen that look before—a predator sizing up prey.
“I can’t just—” I begin.
“You can,” Ryker interrupts, his voice a low command. “Your gift is part of you, not separate. Stop waiting for it to arrive and start reaching for it.”
Easier said than done. I’ve never been able to control when the visions come or what they show. They’ve always been wild things, untamed and unpredictable.
Lithia moves closer, and instinctively I step back. Through our bond, I feel Ryker’s disapproval.
“Don’t retreat,” he growls. “See.”
Swallowing hard, I force myself to stand still as Lithia circles. I try to focus on her, to see beyond the present moment, but nothing happens. No visions, no flashes—just my own hammering heart and the enforcer’s predatory smile.
“This isn’t working,” I mutter.
“Because you’re thinking too much,” Ryker says. “Stop trying to force it. Let it come naturally.”
“That’s what I’ve been doing my whole life!” Frustration makes my voice sharp. “Waiting for visions to come naturally while people demand I produce them on command!”
Lithia’s smile widens as she senses my distress. Without warning, she moves, a blur of speed leaving me no time to react. Her hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist and twisting, not hard enough to hurt but enough to demonstrate how easily she could.
“Too slow, seer,” she taunts softly.
Pride stings, but before I can respond, Ryker is there. His hand wraps around Lithia’s wrist, applying just enough pressure to make her release me.
“Again,” he says, his voice carrying an edge of warning. “And remember who she is to me.”
Lithia steps back, inclining her head in deference. But when her eyes meet mine, they hold a challenge that makes my blood heat.
“Again,” Ryker repeats. “But this time, don’t think about seeing. Feel it.”
I take a steadying breath and focus on Lithia again. She resumes her circling, more cautious now but no less predatory.
“Close your eyes,” Ryker instructs, surprising me.
“But then I can’t—”
“Trust me,” he cuts me off. “Close your eyes.”
Reluctantly, I do as he asks, plunging myself into darkness. Immediately, my other senses heighten. I can hear Lithia’s measured breathing, the soft pad of her feet against stone, the rustle of fabric as she moves.
“Now,” Ryker says, his voice close to my ear, “reach for our bond.”
The claiming mark pulses at his words. I focus on it, feeling the connection between us humming with energy.
“Our bond connects us on every level,” he continues, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me. “My strength flows to you through it. Use it. Anchor yourself in it.”
I reach mentally for the bond, imagining it as a tether between us.
“Good,” Ryker murmurs, and I feel his approval through the bond like sunshine on skin. “Now, keeping that anchor, reach for your gift. Invite it.”
I’ve never thought of my visions as something to be invited rather than summoned or endured. The concept feels foreign but somehow right. I imagine my gift as a wild creature requiring coaxing rather than capture.
Show me, I think, focusing on Lithia’s presence. Help me see what she will do.
For a moment, nothing happens. Then, like water seeping through cracks in stone, I feel it—the familiar shift in perception that precedes a vision. But unlike the painful flood that usually overwhelms me, this is controlled. Manageable.
The world behind my closed eyelids changes. I see Lithia, but she’s moving in slow motion. I watch as she feints left, then shifts her weight to her right foot, preparing to—
My eyes snap open just as Lithia launches her attack—the same feint and right-side lunge I’d seen. Without conscious thought, I step to the left, neatly avoiding her grasp.
The chamber falls utterly silent.
Lithia recovers, surprise crossing her features before she masks it. “Lucky guess.”
“That’s good, Kitara,” Ryker counters, and when I turn to look at him, I find his mismatched eyes blazing with triumph. “Try again.”
The realization crashes over me. I did it. I called a vision deliberately, controlled what I saw and used it, all without pain.
“How?” I ask, staring at Ryker as if he might hold the answer.
“You stopped fighting your nature.” His hand comes up to cup my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone. “Your gift isn’t separate from you, Kitara. It’s woven into everything you are.”
“Again,” I say, surprising myself with my eagerness.
Ryker’s smile is slow and satisfied. “Lithia, continue. Dane, join her.”
As the two enforcers move to circle me, I hesitate, my nerves catching up to my courage.
“What if that was a fluke?” I ask quietly. “What if I can’t—”
Ryker steps closer, pressing his palm to the center of my back, fingers splayed wide. “Then we try again until it becomes natural. I’m not going anywhere.”
I nod, then close my eyes. I reach first for our claiming bond. It’s easier now—less effort and more instinct. Ryker’s presence threads through me, steady and warm, grounding the chaos that usually threatens to unravel me.
I focus on Dane and Lithia, listening to the soft pad of their feet, feeling the shift in air as they circle me.
I focus, waiting for a blow but nothing comes. Frowning, I push toward my visions, searching for the same instinctive feeling that overtook me before. A headache blooms behind my eyes. My breathing stutters, and the familiar sharp edge of fear curls through my belly.
I can’t fail. Not now.
The pressure builds. My hands shake as I try harder, pushing, straining, desperate to prove myself.
“Stop.” Ryker’s voice cuts through my panic.
I gasp, slumping. He catches me, his chest pressing against my back.
“Breathe,” he instructs, holding me close. “Just breathe.”
One of his hands settles over my racing heart, the other cups my forehead. Slowly, I calm, and the headache begins to recede.
“You’re trying too hard,” he murmurs against my ear. “You’re forcing what should flow.”
“But I—”