Chapter 11 #3
Slade didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stared down at me with that same expressionless mask he always wore. Cold. Hard. Untouchable.
From where I sat crumpled on the arena floor, I could see him differently—see the sharp lines of his jaw, the thick muscle coiled beneath his dark shirt, the way he seemed carved from stone and shadow.
Imposing. Unshakable. The kind of strength born not just of training, but of something else. Something unbreakable.
Still, he said nothing.
I wondered if he even cared that I was hurt. That I’d failed.
But then, finally, he stepped forward. Slowly. Deliberately.
He crouched beside me, eyes unreadable.
“You’re stronger than this,” he said, low and quiet. Not kind. Not soft. But something in his tone flickered—like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t saying it for the crowd still watching from the edges.
I stared at him, stunned.
Then he stood again, turning his back to me. “Get up or stay down. Just don’t waste my time.”
The words hit like a slap. But somehow, they worked better than kindness ever could have.
Gritting my teeth, I planted my hands beneath me and shoved myself upright again. Shaky. Wobbling. But standing.
Barely.
From the other side of the arena, the shifter cracked his knuckles, smirking. “Round two?”
I shook my limbs and clicked my knuckles.
Go hard, or go home right?
Three rounds later I was a bruised puddle on the ground. Around me, the other trainees smirked at my weakness. Pike, my shifter opponent looked very proud of himself as he waited for my next move.
I could barely raise my arms.
I want to go home.
Slade raised a hand, halting him.
“She’s done,” he said flatly.
The murmur around us rose again. Pike rolled his eyes but stepped away.
Slade pulled me to my feet. My whole body ached.
He poked me in the ribs and I winced. “What the fuck, grumpy bear?” I groaned.
“You’re too skinny. You need to eat.”
“Well, duh.” I grumbled. “Food wasn’t exactly readily available on the streets.”
“Meat and carbs. Tonight. Understood?” Slade growled. “Fill your plate.”
“Yes sir,” I sneered, holding my gut. He gave a small sound of approval.
“Tomorrow we work on resilience.”
I sent him an uncertain look. “And what does that mean?”
He gave me a rare grin. “Twenty laps.”
**
After my torturous workout was over, Slade led me outside before abandoning me to what looked like a large fenced in dirt yard. The walls of the keep were tall and imposing, only a short distance from the training area. It was a harsh reminder of just how trapped I really was.
My body ached, still humming with bruises and failure, but I was upright. Barely.
Phoenix waited for me near a scorched stone pedestal, the dim sun catching the copper strands in his hair and making him glow like something from a myth.
Where Slade was earthy and solid, Phoenix was fire—literal and otherwise.
His smile was sharp and lazy, like he knew exactly how dangerous he was and didn’t mind reminding the world.
He raised a hand in greeting as I approached, his amber eyes flickering over me.
“You look like hell,” he said cheerfully.
“Feel like it too,” I muttered.
“Good.” He tossed a small flame into the air, letting it dance along his fingertips. “Means you're warmed up.”
The flame vanished with a snap. He gestured for me to come closer.
“Slade will help teach you to survive and build your strength,” Phoenix said. “I’m here to teach your magic to fight back.”
He stepped behind me without warning, his presence a radiant heat at my back.
“You have shadows in you,” he murmured, voice low. “Deep ones. They cling to you. That’s rare. Most people repel shadow magic—it’s ancient, volatile. Dangerous.”
“I know,” I said. “I’ve felt them.”
Phoenix circled me, his fingers trailing the air around my arms, my sides—not touching me, but drawing something unseen.
“You don’t control them yet. You react with them. It’s instinct. Power without will.”
He stopped in front of me. “So, let’s change that.”
He lifted a hand and fire bloomed in his palm—a swirling orb of molten orange.
“Now cast.”
I stared at him. “It’s not that easy.”
“Doesn’t matter. Do it anyway. Feel them. The shadows. Pull them up.”
I closed my eyes and reached.
There was a familiar sensation—a cold silk sliding through my veins, coiling in my spine. The pressure. The hunger. The power that had slipped through my fingers earlier when I’d tried to escape the shifter’s strike.
I reached harder, digging into it—
A flicker. A pulse. The shadows stirred at my feet.
“That’s it,” Phoenix said, voice edged with excitement. “Now will them. Smother my flame.”
I clenched my jaw, focusing. The shadows thickened like smoke, whispering around my legs—but the moment I tried to shape them, to command them, they slipped through my grasp.
They vanished.
The fire in Phoenix’s hand flared, bright and hot.
“Again,” he said.
I gritted my teeth and reached again, sweat breaking out along my back.
“You’re trying to dominate them,” Phoenix said, pacing around me. “Don’t. Shadows aren’t fire—they don’t obey force. They respond to intent. To need. So, tell me, Elira—what do you want?”
I opened my eyes, glaring at him. “I want to be free of all of you.”
He grinned. “Good. Now make them listen.”
Phoenix's grin didn’t fade. If anything, it widened, like my defiance thrilled him. He crouched beside me, firelight dancing across his sharp features.
“Freedom,” he said softly, “is forged in the fire of will. Yours is strong, but it’s scattered. Like a storm without a centre.”
I wanted to snap something back—but I didn’t. Because even though I hated the way they threw me into this, I wanted this too. Power. Control. A way to stop being the one running, surviving, breaking. I was done bleeding for everyone else’s choices.
I closed my eyes again.
This time, I didn’t claw for the shadows.
I invited them.
Come to me.
They answered.
A hush settled over the air. Coolness swept in like a tide. Shadows pooled around my feet—no longer just tricks of light, but thick, velvet tendrils. They curled up my legs, coiling around my fingers like a lover's touch. Not threatening. Curious.
“Good,” Phoenix whispered. “Now… shape them.”
My breath trembled, but I didn’t look away. I reached deeper—not with force, but with purpose. I thought about Kyra’s smug face. The shifter’s fist connecting with my ribs. The way Slade had left me crawling. I didn’t want revenge.
I wanted to never be powerless again.
The shadows reacted like they heard me.
They rose—arching from the ground in ribbons that spun lazily through the air. One coiled around my wrist like armour. Another drifted to my shoulder like a mantle.
Phoenix exhaled, a sound between awe and laughter. “There she is.”
But the moment cracked—like glass under a strain too long held. My concentration faltered. A sliver of doubt wedged its way in.
The shadows twitched.
And then they were gone.
Vanished like smoke in wind.
I stumbled, dizzy from the sudden emptiness.
Phoenix didn’t say anything for a moment. When I finally looked at him, his expression was thoughtful—not disappointed. More like he’d just watched a glimpse of something rare and half-legendary.
“You touched it,” he said. “That’s more than most ever do. But if you want to wield shadow, really wield it, you’ll have to know the darkness inside yourself. Accept it. Trust it.”
I crossed my arms, suddenly cold without them. “That sounds suspiciously like therapy.”
He laughed outright. “Shadow magic is therapy, Elira. But with higher stakes.”
He stepped back, the flame in his palm dying to embers.
“Same time tomorrow. Eat something. Sleep. Then come ready to bleed for it.”
He turned and left me standing in the arena’s dying light—aching, shaking, but for the first time since arriving…
Alive.
And something else.
Hungry.