Chapter 6 The Breaking Point

The fire flickering in Vaela's hands had just begun to fade when the wind shifted. It wasn't a huge change, but just enough for her to catch it. Mira, who couldn't see, seemed to pick up on it right away. She lifted her head, her cloudy eyes turning toward the trees. "It's watching again," she whispered.

Thorne's jaw tensed, showing he wanted to push forward. "We've got to move fast. We need to make her tough. The shadows won't wait for us," he said with urgency.

Vaela stood tall with the torchlight illuminating her weary body. Every muscle was screaming in protest and her breath came in short gasps, yet her gaze remained steady. She had burned and bled for weeks now. There had been nights full of tears when she thought no one could hear her cries, but she never let herself give up. She had to keep going; it felt like it was all she had left.

"Let's keep moving then," she said with determination.

Thorne shot back, "Drop your guard. Do it again."

---

The following week was nothing shy of torturous.

Mira was relentless in her training, putting Vaela through grueling exercises that tested her limits. With a blindfold over her eyes for hours, she had to feel the energy around her. She learned to reach out with her mind instead of her hands, and to find her heartbeat amid the chaos. The beginning was tough; she stumbled time and time again. The wind would knock her off balance, and sometimes the silence felt overwhelming enough to choke her. But Mira never stepped in to help.

Then came the moments filled with agony.

Thorne threw her in the ring with rogue fighters-people who didn't hold back. Every time she stepped into that arena, she ended up bruised, her muscles screaming from the strain, ribs aching. She fell to the ground more times than she cared to remember; her knuckles bloodied and her vision fuzzy from fatigue. But giving up wasn't a thought that crossed her mind.

Kael stood by most days, observing quietly, always tense. Rowan sometimes offered words of encouragement, but he also kept his distance. It was clear that whatever Vaela was turning into made them uneasy. Even she was starting to feel the fear that lurked deep inside.

One morning, Thorne paired her with Jarek, a massive rogue fighter who towered over her. His arms looked like tree trunks, and his sneer was enough to make her blood boil.

"Teach her some humility," Thorne commanded.

With a grin, Jarek lunged at her.

Vaela barely managed to dodge the first blow. She rolled to her feet and struck back, but her hits had no effect against his thick muscles. He laughed, then landed a fist square into her stomach. She doubled over, gasping for breath.

"Get back up!" Mira shouted from the edge of the ring.

Vaela struggled to push herself to her knees as Jarek smirked down at her. At that moment, she saw Draven's face in his sneer-the laughter, the rejection-it all hit her hard. Something snapped inside her.

She charged at Jarek, but not with mere fists-flames erupted from her hands. The fire crackled and danced wildly. Jarek yelped in surprise, stumbling backward as his arm got scorched.

"Enough!" Thorne's voice rang out, making her halt mid-attack, panting and shaking.

Jarek growled, but stayed where he was.

Thorne stepped into the circle, his gaze steady as he looked at her. "You're not ready to win just yet. But you're ready to bleed for it."

Wiping the sweat off her forehead, Vaela replied, "I'll bleed, I'll burn-I really don't care anymore."

"Good," Thorne said. "Then let's keep going."

---

That night, during her meditation, Mira placed a stone in Vaela's hands. "Focus on what you hate," she instructed. "Let it talk to you."

As Vaela did, she felt the flames firing up inside her again. It wasn't just the magic; it was her memories-the pain from her past haunting her. She pictured Draven, his icy eyes, the cruel words he tossed like daggers, the laughter of the pack as they turned their backs on her. Her fingers tightened around the stone so fiercely it cracked, and sparks coursed down her arms.

"Good," Mira whispered, guiding her. "Now let it go."

Vaela complied, and the torches around them flared high momentarily before plunging them into darkness. Only the stars lit the night sky.

---

Later that night, as she sat alone by the stream, Kael approached her carefully.

"You're changing," he observed.

Without glancing at him, she replied, "Good."

Kael took a breath, then asked, "Are you sure that's a good thing?"

She turned to face him. "Are you scared of me now?"

He paused before responding, "I'm worried about what you're becoming for all the wrong reasons."

Her eyes sparked with defiance. "There's no wrong reason to want to survive- not anymore."

Kael kept his thoughts to himself, simply nodding and walking off.

---

Two days later, Mira led her up to a high ridge on the outskirts of the rogue lands. The wind howled fiercely, biting through the air.

"There's one last step," Mira announced, her voice steady and almost calm.

"What is it?" Vaela braced herself, already feeling a knot of unease.

"You need to confront death."

Before she could fully react, Mira pushed her off the cliff.

Screaming as she fell through the air, Vaela hit the icy river below with a thud that rattled her bones.

Darkness swallowed her whole.

---

Her mind floated between memories. The night Draven cast her aside. The faces of her former pack. The quiet tomb. The box she once clutched as if it held her hopes. And then-silence.

In that silence, she saw herself-not the shattered girl anymore, but a woman wrapped in fire, standing alone in a desolate battlefield.

Gasping, she broke the surface of the water, sputtering and trembling. But then the blackness claimed her again.

Three long days passed with Vaela slipping in and out of darkness, ensnared in fever dreams and vivid nightmares. She didn't know where she was; she just felt cold-her body like a heavy stone.

On the third night, she finally stirred. Mira and Thorne stood waiting by the riverbank.

"You made it," Thorne said.

Vaela dragged herself up on the wet rocks, shivering but alive. Her skin was ghostly pale, lips cracked from the cold, but her eyes burned with fire.

"No," she replied. "I've changed."

---

Later that very night, she stood before the camp, heart pounding. With a slight gesture, Thorne raised his hand.

"She has earned the right to belong here," he declared.

The rogues bowed their heads in respect. Even Kael lowered his gaze.

But then Mira added, "She hasn't just survived the breaking-she has become its master."

Cheers erupted through the crowd. Some were filled with pride, while others were laced with fear.

But none of it mattered to Vaela. Because somewhere in the shadows of the trees above them, something dark stirred, and it whispered her name.