Morning training began before the sun kissed the treetops.
Selene stood at the center of the BloodMoon training grounds, chest heaving, arms sore, and shirt damp with sweat. Kael circled her like a predator; not a mate, not a protector, but a warrior assessing the sharpness of a blade.
"Again," he said.
She didn't argue.
She lunged, spun, struck. He blocked every move.
Again.
And again.
Until she collapsed to one knee
.
"I'm not weak," she gritted.
"No," Kael replied calmly, "but you're still holding back. You're still fighting like someone else is watching."
She looked up at him, panting. "Because someone always was."
Kael knelt beside her. "Cassian?"
Selene didn't respond.
Not for a while.
Then: "There were days he'd blindfold me and force me to fight ten wolves at once. If I lost, he'd say I didn't deserve a name. If I won, he'd say it was expected. There was no victory, only survival."
Kael's jaw flexed. "He conditioned you to obey." Selene nodded, eyes glazed. "He made pain feel like reward. Control feel like safety. He told me if I ever disobeyed, I'd be erased."
Kael was silent.
Then he said, "You're not his weapon anymore. You're not his anything."
Selene turned her head. "Then who am I?"
Kael leaned closer. "That's for you to decide."
That afternoon, Selene found herself in the healing tents again. Mistress Elira handed her herbs to grind and gauze to sort, barely glancing at her.
But as they worked in silence, a young boy limped in; barefoot, muddy, with a bleeding knee and tear-streaked cheeks.
"Training pit," he sniffled. "Fell."
Before Selene could move, Elira nudged her forward. "Go on. Clean him up."
Selene blinked. "Me?"
"He's not glass. You don't need a title to be useful."
Selene hesitated, then knelt before the boy and began cleaning the wound with careful hands.
"What's your name?" she asked softly.
"Lio."
"Lio, you're very brave."
He gave her a wary look. "You're the spy."
Selene flinched, but didn't lie.
"Yes. I was."
"Are you still bad?"
She paused, heart aching. "I'm trying not to be."
He was quiet, then nodded slowly. "Okay."
Selene exhaled.
Elira handed her a clean wrap. "Don't let that go to your head. Kids forgive too easily."
"I'm not doing it for forgiveness," Selene said.
Elira finally looked at her. "Good. Because around here, you earn it."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Later that night, Kael invited her to the hilltop. She expected another sparring session.
Instead, he handed her a blade and said, "Teach me something your pack taught you."
Selene blinked. "You want me to teach you?"
Kael shrugged. "If I'm going to understand you, I need to know where you came from."
For a second, she almost smiled.
Almost.
She stepped forward and took his wrist gently.
"This technique," she said, positioning his stance, "was made for killing silently. One slice across the jugular, no noise, no time for them to shift."
Kael's expression darkened. "Useful."
She nodded. "And terrifying, when you realize I was taught this at thirteen."
Kael caught her wrist suddenly, not tight, just firm.
"I don't want you to carry that alone anymore."
Selene's heart thudded.
"I'm not asking you to forgive yourself," Kael continued, "or to forget. But if we're going to stand against Cassian and the storm coming with him, I need you whole."
Her voice cracked. "And what if I'm too broken to be whole?" Kael stepped closer, brushing her hair back gently.
"Then I'll help you build yourself from scratch."
That night, she didn't sleep alone, not in the way people talked about. She and Kael sat back-to-back in silence, listening to the owls and wind and the heartbeat that echoed not just in their chests; but in the bond that had once terrified them both.
They didn't speak again.
They didn't have to.
Because healing, Selene was learning... didn't always roar.
Sometimes it was quiet.
Sometimes it simply stayed.