The icy wind whistled through the forest, carrying with it the metallic scent of blood mingled with the crisp fragrance of freshly crushed snow. The bodies of the CryoWolves and Nivëa lay scattered across the ground, silent witnesses to the fierce battle that had just taken place. Their frost-tinted fur and razor-sharp feathers were strewn about, remnants of a brutal confrontation.
Veil, crouched beside a lifeless CryoWolf, collected whatever spoils he could salvage from the fallen creatures. His trembling fingers retrieved a strip of glacial-blue fur and rigid, blade-like feathers, all while trying to ignore the searing pain pulsing through his injured leg. Each movement sent a sharp grimace across his face.
"She took them all down... I barely did anything. Just a burden. Why?" he said, his voice bitter.
His fingers eventually closed around the dagger Alynia had used to finish off one of the wolves. The blade still carried the warmth of battle, and as he turned it in his grip, his reflection stared back at him—exhausted, humiliated.
"But it can't go on like this. I have to change," he declared, determined.
Alynia observed him in silence, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. Her slightly perked ears caught even the faintest sounds around them, while her tail swayed slowly behind her, a sign of her ever-present vigilance.
She adjusted the fur mantle draped over her shoulders, shifting her stance before turning toward the cave. Her steps were steady, fluid, as if the fight had been nothing more than a passing exercise. Behind her, Veil limped slightly, each step marked by a dull throb of pain in his leg.
Back in the cave, Alynia rekindled the fire. The flames, timid at first, soon flared up, filling the space with much-needed warmth. She sat near the embers, the flickering orange light casting soft shadows across her face. Her tail moved idly beside her, swaying to an unhurried rhythm.
Silence settled between them, broken only by the gentle crackling of burning wood.
Veil stood at the entrance of the cave, frozen, his gaze fixed on the rocky ground. His fists were tightly clenched, his knuckles whitened from the tension he was putting into them. Every breath he took felt heavy, as if he were holding back an inner storm.
I can't stay like this anymore. I have to tell her. But... what if she refuses? he thought, frustrated.
Alynia, sitting cross-legged, slightly turned her head without looking at him directly.
"Are you planning to stand there all night?" she asked calmly, almost indifferent.
Her tone was neutral, almost uninterested, her eyes still fixed on the flames. The flickering light from the embers barely illuminated her features, but the coldness of her attitude pierced through the atmosphere.
Veil remained motionless, his breath short and unsteady. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his shoulders trembling slightly under the weight of an emotion he was visibly struggling to contain.
Say it. Now. Before your fear shuts you up, he thought, nervous.
He clenched his fists even tighter, his nails digging into his palms.
"...Teach me," he whispered, his voice trembling but resolute.
The words were weak, almost inaudible, yet they carried an immense weight.
Alynia slowly turned her head toward him, her piercing blue eyes settling on his figure. Her tail stopped moving, and she slightly narrowed her eyes, a brief flicker of surprise crossing her gaze.
"What?" she replied, her voice neutral.
Veil lifted his head, his gaze meeting Alynia's. His eyes trembled slightly, but his expression remained resolute, even as his legs seemed ready to give out beneath him.
"Teach me! Magic! Teach me how to fight!" he shouted louder, almost pleading.
His words echoed through the cave, filling the space with raw force. His breath was uneven, and his hands visibly trembled, but he refused to lower his gaze.
"I don't want to stay weak. Never again," he murmured, feverish.
Tears threatened to well up at the edge of his eyes, but he forced them back, struggling desperately not to show a hint of vulnerability. His face bore deep shame, buried rage, and a burning desire to change.
Alynia continued to watch him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. She seemed to weigh each of his words, trying to discern whether they stemmed from genuine desire or a fleeting impulse.
Then, after a heavy silence, she spoke, her voice as sharp as a blade.
"You lost once and now you're crying?" she said, her gaze cold after watching him for a long time.
The words struck Veil like a slap.
"Crying? No... that's not what I'm doing...," he replied, shocked.
He remained frozen, unable to respond immediately. His breathing quickened, and he felt a surge of anger mixed with shame.
"I would've died! You saw it! Without you, I was finished!" he screamed, frustrated.
His voice rang through the cave, filling the space with raw intensity. The flickering flames cast erratic shadows on the walls, as if reflecting the turmoil within him.
His breath was ragged, his shoulders rising and falling unevenly under the weight of tension. His hands still trembled, but this time, it wasn't just from exhaustion. It was a mix of raw emotion—fear, rage, and a hint of despair.
"I refuse to stay like this... to stay weak. I have to become stronger, no matter what it takes," he murmured, burning inside.
Alynia, still seated near the fire, remained motionless for a few seconds. Her blue eyes were fixed on him, but they betrayed no obvious emotion. No judgment, no mockery. Just a cold, analytical intensity that seemed to pierce straight into Veil's soul.
He's serious...? Hm. Maybe. But it's not enough. That look... it's a start, but it won't do. If he wants to survive here, he has to be ready to suffer, she thought, watching Veil.
She let out a slow sigh, briefly closing her eyes as if weighing each word before speaking.
He has willpower. But does he have enough to break his limits? If I help him, he'll have to give it everything. Otherwise, he really will die, she thought.
Then, in a fluid, controlled motion, she slowly rose to her feet, her boots sinking slightly into the rocky dust of the cave floor.
"Magic isn't a toy. It's a force you won't control by willpower alone," she declared, calm but sharp.
Her voice, though steady, carried an undeniable firmness, like a finely honed blade.
She stepped toward Veil, her movements imbued with an almost animalistic precision. With each step, the distance between them shrank, and her cold gaze never left his.
When she was close enough, she leaned in slightly, her face now level with his. Her piercing blue eyes seemed to cut through every fragment of doubt that might still linger within him.
"I won't go easy on you. If this is really what you want, you'll have to push yourself beyond your limits," she said, serious.
Her words fell like a challenge—a promise of trials to come. Silence settled once more, but this time, it carried a different tension. A turning point.
Her gaze was sharp, unwavering. Alynia took another step forward, so close that Veil could make out every nuance of her irises, every flicker of the fire reflected in her pupils. The flickering light accentuated the coldness of her expression, an unyielding determination etched into her features.
"You have four days. Not a single one more. I don't have time to stay here any longer," she said, her voice icy.
Her words fell like blades—cold and uncompromising. Four days. Not one more.
Veil remained still, his fists still clenched. His breathing, which had been uneven until now, gradually steadied. This time, his hands no longer trembled. He did not look away, refusing to yield under the pressure of her gaze.
"Four days... That'll be enough...," he whispered, his breath slow and quiet.
Silence thickened between them, a brief moment where their eyes remained locked in a silent challenge. The tension in the air felt ready to explode at any moment.
A subtle, almost imperceptible smirk flickered across Alynia's lips. A fleeting smile, more of a tacit acknowledgment than an expression of satisfaction.
Without a word, she turned away and sat back down by the fire. Her movements were fluid, measured, carrying a natural grace. The firelight danced across her face as she gazed into the embers, her eyes half-closed. Her expression was neutral, almost detached, yet the silence emanating from her felt heavy, as if she were still weighing Veil's chances of success.
Veil, however, did not sit. He remained standing, his eyes fixed on the flickering flames. Though still marked by exhaustion, his posture betrayed a newfound resolve. The fear and doubt that had consumed him moments ago had vanished, replaced by a raw determination.
"Four days... I'll do it. No matter what," he declared, resolute.
The crackling of the fire filled the cave, blending with the soft yet constant whistle of the wind outside. That faint sound seemed to carry the silent promise born in this moment of tension—a promise shared between a ruthless master and a determined apprentice.