Sleep had not been kind to Eila that night. She had turned beneath her quilt for hours, tangled in thoughts of Lukas—his earnest gaze, his unexpected request, the weight of her refusal. He had never asked such a thing before. Was it a moment of loneliness that guided his words, or had he merely longed for closeness, for the presence of his mate?
Though he had spoken his intentions plainly, her heart was yet unquiet.
By the time dawn's pale light crept over the hills, she had scarcely rested. Her limbs ached with fatigue, and her mood was no brighter than the overcast sky above. Still, she pulled herself from bed with quiet determination, setting to her chores without complaint. Her younger siblings needed tending, her house required order, and her responsibilities could not suffer for a night of troubled dreaming.
Sera, ever the voice of blunt reason, chided her gently through their bond.
You ought not to have turned him away, not like that. He would not have asked had he no need.
Eila sighed inwardly and ignored the remark—for now.
Time was slipping fast, and her upcoming tests left her little room to wallow in self-doubt or romantic entanglements. She gathered her books, a small packet of dried berries and oatbread, and set off in haste toward the pack house.
The sun had already begun its climb by the time she reached the library, breathless and flushed. Nina stood waiting near the tall arched windows, cloaked in deep plum robes with silver threads running like ivy through the seams. Her eyes found Eila's with mild reproach, though her voice remained kind.
"You are late," Nina said simply.
"I beg your pardon," Eila replied, bowing her head. "I left with the intention to arrive sooner, but was detained by household duties."
Nina dismissed the apology with a graceful wave of her hand. "No matter. But for today, we press forward."
The lesson was unlike any Eila had experienced thus far. Nina guided her to an open patch of stone floor and bade her sit with her palms turned upward.
"Still your mind," Nina instructed, her voice like the hush of turning pages. "Breathe deep. Find the quiet inside yourself, then focus your thoughts on your finger—imagine a candle's wick. Call the flame to life."
It seemed simple in theory. Yet each time Eila tried, her thoughts wandered—toward Lukas, toward the mounting pressures of expectation, and even toward Leo, who haunted her thoughts like a half-spoken name.
Time passed. She breathed. She focused. She failed.
Frustration welled up within her as the afternoon wore on, her finger still unlit, her spirit growing weary. Doubt crept in like a cold wind. What if I am only meant to heal and dream? Perhaps no more than that is written in my fate.
Nina, perceiving the shift in her energy, placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "Do not falter so soon, child. Fire is the most common of elemental magics amongst your kind. Many a wolf has struggled at first, only to master it in time. Patience is your true test."
Eila nodded, though her heart was heavy with the sting of disappointment. Before dusk fell, Nina readied herself for her journey to the coven. With a graceful flick of her fingers and whispered words of power, she conjured a shimmering portal in the air—its center a swirl of violet mist.
She turned one last time before stepping through. "Practice each day, Eila. One moon's cycle may yet awaken your gift. Do not lose heart."
And then she was gone.
Alone once more in the quiet of the library, Eila slumped onto a nearby bench. Her palms still tingled faintly from effort, but they were empty. No fire. No magic. Only weariness.
She unwrapped her oat bread and berries and ate in silence, watching the last rays of light scatter across the floor. Perhaps tomorrow she will try again. She must. For fire—like destiny—could be a stubborn thing. But when it rose, it could change everything.