The forest was alive with the faint hum of crickets and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. Aira stood in the clearing, her hands clenched into fists and her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. She could feel every fiber of her body aching, but the sharp gaze of Fenrir watching her from across the clearing kept her from collapsing.
 
“Again,” Fenrir’s deep voice echoed through the still night. It wasn’t a request—it was a command.
 
Aira groaned softly, wiping the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. “You’ve been saying that for the last hour, Big Brother,” she said, trying to mask the exhaustion in her voice. “How many times do I have to ‘focus my energy’ before I actually get it?”
 
Fenrir’s lips twitched into a faint smirk, though his eyes remained serious. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned back against a tree. “Until it’s second nature. Until you don’t have to think about it. When that happens, you’ll stop asking how many times.”
 
Aira sighed but didn’t argue. She closed her eyes, her body tense as she tried to concentrate. Deep breaths. In. Out. She could hear the faint sounds of the forest around her, the gentle rustling of the leaves, the distant call of an owl. She tried to let the sounds ground her, to push away the frustration that bubbled beneath her skin.
 
But it wasn’t easy.
 
“Stop overthinking,” Fenrir said, his voice cutting through her thoughts like a blade. “You’re too tense. Relax.”
 
“Relax?” Aira opened her eyes, glaring at him. “How am I supposed to relax when you keep yelling at me to do it again and again?”
 
“I didn’t yell,” Fenrir replied calmly, the smirk returning for a brief moment. “But if you want me to, I can.”
 
Aira rolled her eyes and looked away, muttering under her breath. “You’re impossible.”
 
“I heard that.”
 
She ignored him, closing her eyes once more and trying to focus. This time, she let out a slow breath, unclenching her fists and letting her muscles loosen. It was hard not to let the frustration take over, but she reminded herself why she was doing this. If what Fenrir said was true, then she needed to learn—needed to understand the strange power that had been bubbling under the surface for as long as she could remember.
 
“Good,” Fenrir said suddenly, his voice softer this time. “That’s better. Now, feel it—don’t think about it, just feel it.”
 
Aira frowned, but she didn’t respond. She let herself sink into the moment, letting her senses sharpen. And then, for a brief second, she felt it—a faint warmth in her chest, like a flicker of fire trying to ignite. It was small, but it was there.
 
“There you go,” Fenrir said, his tone carrying a hint of approval. “Now hold onto it. Keep it steady.”
 
Aira tried. She really did. But the moment she acknowledged the flicker, it vanished, leaving her feeling empty and frustrated. Her eyes snapped open, and she groaned loudly. “It’s gone.”
 
“And it’ll keep disappearing if you keep chasing it like that,” Fenrir said, pushing off the tree and walking toward her. His movements were slow, deliberate, like a predator approaching its prey. “You can’t force it, Aira. The more you try to grab it, the further it’ll slip away.”
 
Aira crossed her arms over her chest, her frustration boiling over. “Then what am I supposed to do? Just wait for it to magically happen?”
 
Fenrir stopped a few feet away, his golden eyes locking onto hers. “No. You learn to trust it. To trust yourself. That’s what this is about.”
 
Aira looked away, her jaw tightening. “I don’t even know what I’m trusting. You keep telling me I have this… power, but I don’t understand it. I don’t understand any of this.”
 
Fenrir’s gaze softened slightly. He stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You will. But first, you need to stop doubting yourself. That doubt—that fear—it’s what’s holding you back.”
 
Aira looked up at him, her frustration mingling with uncertainty. “What if I can’t do it? What if I’m not strong enough?”
 
“You are strong enough,” Fenrir said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. “You just don’t know it yet. But you will.”
 
The conviction in his voice sent a shiver down Aira’s spine. She wanted to believe him—wanted to believe that she could be the person he seemed to think she was. But it was hard. Too hard.
 
“Come on,” Fenrir said, stepping back. “Let’s take a break. You’re no good to anyone if you collapse.”
 
Aira let out a relieved breath, her shoulders slumping. “Finally. I thought you were going to make me keep going until sunrise.”
 
Fenrir chuckled, his deep voice rumbling through the clearing. “Don’t tempt me.”
 
Aira shot him a glare, but there was no real heat in it. She sank down onto the cool grass, leaning back on her hands as she stared up at the stars. The night sky stretched endlessly above her, the stars scattered like tiny diamonds. It was beautiful, in a quiet, unassuming way.
 
“Big Brother,” she said after a moment, her voice quieter now. “Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?”
 
Fenrir sat down beside her, his large frame casting a faint shadow over her. For a long moment, he didn’t answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost thoughtful. “Because you need someone to. And because I owe it to you.”
 
Aira frowned, turning to look at him. “Owe it to me? What does that mean?”
 
Fenrir didn’t meet her gaze. Instead, he stared out at the forest, his golden eyes glinting in the moonlight. “It means… I made a promise. A long time ago.”
 
“To who?”
 
He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “Someone important.”
 
Aira’s curiosity burned, but she didn’t press further. She could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t ready to talk about it. Instead, she let the silence settle between them, the soft sounds of the forest filling the space.
 
“Do you ever miss it?” she asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.
 
“Miss what?”
 
“The forest. Living out here. Being… free.”
 
Fenrir’s lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sometimes. But freedom comes with a price. And it’s not always worth paying.”
 
Aira didn’t know what to say to that. She turned her gaze back to the stars, her mind swirling with questions she couldn’t quite put into words.
 
After a few minutes, Fenrir stood, brushing off his pants. “Break’s over. Let’s get back to it.”
 
Aira groaned, though she pushed herself to her feet. “You’re relentless, you know that?”
 
“I’ve been told,” Fenrir said with a smirk. “Now, ready your stance. We’re moving on to self-defense.”
 
“Self-defense?” Aira repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Are you planning to beat me up now?”
 
“Something like that,” Fenrir replied, his tone far too casual for Aira’s liking.
 
Before she could protest, he lunged at her, his movements impossibly fast. Aira barely had time to react, stumbling back with a yelp as he stopped just inches from her.
 
“Too slow,” Fenrir said, his smirk widening. “You need to be faster.”
 
“Maybe warn me next time!” Aira snapped, her heart racing.
 
“The enemy won’t warn you, Aira,” Fenrir said, his tone serious now. “If someone comes at you, you need to be ready. Always.”
 
Aira swallowed hard, nodding. “Okay. Let’s try again.”
 
The training continued late into the night, Fenrir pushing her to her limits and beyond. It was exhausting, frustrating, and at times downright infuriating. But as Aira deflected one of his strikes for the first time, a spark of pride lit up inside her.
 
“Good,” Fenrir said, nodding approvingly. “You’re getting there.”
 
Aira couldn’t help but smile, despite the sweat dripping down her face. For the first time, she felt like she was making progress—like she was starting to understand what Fenrir had been trying to teach her.
 
But as the night wore on, a faint unease settled in the back of her mind. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching them, lurking just beyond the edge of the clearing.
 
And when Fenrir suddenly stopped mid-step, his gaze snapping to the shadows, she knew she wasn’t imagining it.
 
“Stay behind me,” he said, his voice low and tense.
 
Aira’s heart pounded as she obeyed, her earlier confidence evaporating. Whatever was out there, it wasn’t friendly.
 
The forest seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with tension.
 
And then, from the darkness, a pair of glowing red eyes appeared.