Chapter 7

Ayla’s body still ached from the confrontation, but her mind refused to rest. She couldn’t shake the image of the cloaked figure disappearing into the shadows, his words lingering in her mind like a curse: “The High Council will come for you.”

The air in the cavern was heavy with an unnatural stillness, the kind that settles after a storm. Lucien knelt beside her, his amber eyes scanning her face for any sign of weakness. His claws, still bloodied from the fight, retracted as he softened his touch.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “You shouldn’t have challenged him like that.”

Ayla turned to him, her gaze sharp. “What was I supposed to do? Let him take me? I had no choice, Lucien.”

The wolf let out a low rumble, pacing restlessly behind them. “She’s right, rogue. That was no ordinary enforcer of the High Council. His power is ancient, rooted in the same magic that flows within her. If she hadn’t stood her ground, we’d all be dead.”

Lucien growled, his fists clenching at his sides. “And what happens next time? Or the time after that? She can’t keep throwing herself into battles she’s not ready for.”

“I’m standing right here,” Ayla snapped, her voice cutting through their argument. “Stop talking about me like I’m a liability.”

Lucien turned to her, his frustration evident, but the concern in his eyes softened his tone. “You’re not a liability, Ayla. But you don’t understand how dangerous this is. The High Council doesn’t send someone like that for no reason. They’ll come back, and they’ll bring more than shadows next time.”

The weight of his words settled over her like a shroud. She knew he was right. The fight had been too close, and her power had barely been enough to fend off the shadow-wielding enforcer. If she didn’t learn to control it, she wouldn’t survive the next attack.

“I need to train,” she said firmly, rising to her feet despite the protest of her trembling legs. “I need to understand this power before it’s too late.”

The wolf stopped pacing, his amber eyes meeting hers with approval. “Good. You’re finally starting to see reason. But training won’t be easy. The power you hold is unlike anything this world has seen in centuries. It will test you. Break you.”

“Let it,” Ayla said, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within her. “I won’t let them take me. I won’t let them control me.”

Lucien sighed, running a hand through his hair. “If we’re going to do this, we need to move. The High Council knows where we are now. This cavern won’t protect us for long.”

The wolf nodded. “There’s a place deeper in the mountains—a sanctuary hidden from the Council’s eyes. It’s where the Firstborn once trained to master their power. If we can get there, she might stand a chance.”

Ayla frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me about this sanctuary before?”

“It’s not exactly easy to reach,” the wolf said, his tone grim. “The path is treacherous, and the magic protecting it is as dangerous as the enemies chasing us. But it’s your best hope.”

Lucien looked skeptical. “And how do we know this sanctuary still exists? If the Firstborn haven’t been seen for centuries, it’s likely been abandoned.”

The wolf’s eyes glowed faintly in the dim light. “Trust me. It exists.”

Ayla glanced between them, her resolve hardening. “Then we go. Whatever it takes, I’ll make it.”

Lucien grumbled under his breath but nodded. “Fine. But we leave at first light. You’ll need your strength for what’s coming.”

Dawn broke over the mountains, painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson. Ayla, Lucien, and the wolf set out, their path winding through jagged cliffs and dense forests. The air grew colder as they ascended, the thin atmosphere biting at Ayla’s lungs. But she pushed forward, determined not to show weakness.

The wolf led the way, his massive frame moving with ease over the rocky terrain. Lucien stayed close to Ayla, his sharp eyes scanning their surroundings for any sign of danger. The tension between them was palpable, but neither spoke. There was no room for arguments now.

As the hours passed, Ayla felt the weight of her exhaustion pressing down on her. The fight with the enforcer had drained her, and the altitude was sapping what little strength she had left. But every time she thought about stopping, she remembered the figure’s golden eyes and his chilling words. She couldn’t afford to falter.

By midday, they reached a narrow pass, its entrance marked by towering stone pillars carved with intricate runes. Ayla paused, staring up at the ancient symbols. They seemed to hum faintly, as if resonating with the power inside her.

“This is it,” the wolf said, his voice low. “The entrance to the sanctuary.”

Ayla stepped forward, her hand brushing against one of the pillars. The moment her skin made contact, a surge of energy shot through her, and the runes flared to life, glowing with a golden light. The ground trembled, and a low, grinding sound echoed through the pass as a hidden doorway revealed itself in the mountainside.

Lucien raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s not ominous at all.”

The wolf growled softly. “The sanctuary recognizes her bloodline. Only she can open the way.”

Ayla swallowed hard, her heart pounding as she stepped through the doorway. The air inside was cold and damp, the darkness swallowing her whole. But as she ventured deeper, the walls began to glow with the same golden light, illuminating the path ahead.

The tunnel opened into a massive chamber, its ceiling lost in shadows. In the center of the room stood a pedestal, its surface etched with runes that pulsed faintly. Ayla felt the power within her stir, drawn to the pedestal like a moth to flame.

“This is where it begins,” the wolf said, his voice reverent. “The sanctuary will test you, Ayla. It will force you to confront your deepest fears, your darkest truths. Only then can you hope to control your power.”

Ayla approached the pedestal, her hand hovering over its surface. She could feel the magic emanating from it, ancient and untamed. Her fingers trembled as she pressed them against the cold stone.

The moment she made contact, the chamber erupted with light. Ayla cried out as the magic surged through her, dragging her mind into a whirlwind of visions and memories. She saw flashes of her past, her childhood, the faces of people she had lost. But then the visions darkened, twisting into nightmares. She saw herself consumed by the power, her eyes glowing with an unnatural light as the world burned around her.

“Ayla!” Lucien’s voice cut through the chaos, but it was distant, muffled. She tried to pull away, but the magic held her in place, forcing her to confront the horrors within her own mind.

And then she heard it—a voice, soft and sinister, whispering in her ear. “You will never control it. You will never be free.”