Chapter 58: Chapter 58 – The Training She Wasn’t Allowed to Have

Chapter 58 – The Training She Wasn’t Allowed to Have

POV: Liora

By morning, the decision had already settled into place so firmly that there was no point pretending I hadn’t made it.

I wasn’t going to sit in that room and wait for someone else to decide what happened to me.

Not Seraphina. Not the elders. Not even Kael.

If this was about power, then the worst thing I could do was remain exactly where they expected me to be, weak, protected, and unaware of what I was capable of.

I had spent too much time reacting to things I didn’t understand. That ended now.

The fortress felt different when I stepped outside my room. A few guards straightened when they saw me, their attention shifting too quickly to be casual. They weren’t just watching for threats anymore.

They were watching me.

I ignored it and kept walking.

If Kael had noticed I left, he hadn’t stopped me. That either meant he trusted the guards to keep track of me or he was too occupied dealing with everything that was already unraveling around him.

Either way, it gave me the space I needed.

Mira wasn’t in the main training grounds. I knew that before I even checked. She preferred the smaller areas, the quieter ones where fewer people could interfere or observe. It didn’t take long to find her in one of the lower practice rooms, the kind that wasn’t used unless someone specifically requested it.

She was already there, moving through controlled strikes against a training post, her focus sharp enough that she didn’t notice me immediately.

I stood there for a moment, watching her, letting myself take in the steadiness of her movements. There was no hesitation in the way she fought. No second-guessing. Everything she did had purpose.

That was what I needed.

"Mira."

She stopped mid-motion, turning toward me quickly, her expression shifting the second she realized who it was.

"Luna?" she said, lowering her stance. "You shouldn’t be here."

"I know," I replied, stepping further into the room. "But I am."

Her gaze moved over me, assessing in a way that felt more practical than concerned. She noticed everything, the way I was standing, the way I was holding myself together instead of moving naturally.

"You’re still recovering," she said. "You should be resting."

"I’ve rested enough."

"That’s not how recovery works," she replied, her tone firm. "And even if it was, Alpha hasn’t cleared you for anything like this."

I held her gaze. "I’m not asking for permission."

She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she watched me more closely, like she was trying to figure out if I understood what I was saying or if I was just being reckless.

"You’re not just wolfless Luna. You’re pregnant," she said finally. "Your body isn’t just yours right now. Training isn’t just risky for you."

"I’m aware."

"Then act like it," she said. "Go back to your room. Let your body recover properly."

I didn’t move.

"Mira," I said, keeping my voice steady, "if something happens again, if someone comes after me and Kael isn’t there, what do you expect me to do?"

"That’s what the guards are for."

"And if they’re not enough?"

She didn’t answer that.

"Yesterday proved something," I continued. "I’m not safe just because I’m inside this fortress. So I either learn how to defend myself, or I stay exactly where they want me."

Her jaw tightened slightly, but she still didn’t agree.

"That’s not how this works," she said. "Training isn’t something you just decide to do when it’s convenient. Your body isn’t stable enough for it, and I’m not risking your life because you feel like proving a point."

"This isn’t about proving anything," I said. "It’s about surviving what’s already coming."

Silence settled between us for a moment.

She exhaled slowly, like she was weighing whether this was worth arguing further.

"Alpha kael didn’t approve this," she said again, but this time it sounded less like a refusal and more like a warning.

"And he doesn’t need to," I replied.

That did it.

Her expression shifted slightly, not softer, but more resigned.

"You’re not going to leave, are you?" she asked.

"No."

She studied me for another moment, then shook her head under her breath.

"You’re stubborn," she muttered.

"I’ve been told that before."

"That doesn’t make it a good thing."

"No," I said quietly. "But it might keep me alive."

Something in that answer landed differently.

Mira sighed, running a hand through her hair before stepping back and gesturing toward the open space.

"Fine," she said. "But we’re not doing anything aggressive. No strain, no extended drills, nothing that pushes your limits."

"That defeats the purpose."

"That keeps you alive," she corrected. "If you want my help, you follow my conditions."

I nodded once. "Alright."

She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue further.

"Start with stance," she said. "If you can’t hold your balance properly, nothing else matters."

I stepped into position, adjusting the way I stood based on what I remembered from the previous training. It felt unfamiliar, my body slower to respond than I expected, like everything required more effort than it should.

"Your weight is off," Mira said immediately. "You’re leaning too much on your left side. Fix it."

I shifted slightly, correcting it.

"Better," she said. "Now hold it."

It sounded simple.

It wasn’t.

Within minutes, I could feel the strain building in my legs, my balance wavering in a way that made it clear how much strength I had lost. My body wasn’t responding the way it used to. Every adjustment felt delayed, like there was a disconnect between what I wanted it to do and what it could actually manage.

"Don’t lock your knees," Mira added. "You’ll lose control faster."

"I’m not—" I started, but the moment I adjusted again, my balance slipped just slightly.

"Focus," she said sharply.

I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to steady.

We moved through basic motions after that, nothing complicated, just enough to rebuild control. Step, shift, adjust, repeat. It should have been manageable.

It wasn’t.

The longer I kept going, the more obvious it became that something wasn’t right. Not just weakness, something else. My body reacted unpredictably, sometimes responding too slowly, other times overcorrecting in a way that threw me off completely.

"Again," Mira said.

I stepped forward, shifting my weight the way she showed me, but this time my foot caught slightly against the ground.

It was a small mistake.

But it was enough.

I lost my balance just enough for the training blade in Mira’s hand to come closer than it should have. She adjusted instantly, trying to pull back, but not fast enough to avoid it completely.

The edge caught my arm.It wasn’t deep but it was enough. I felt it immediately, the sharp sting of the cut, followed by something else.

Something worse.

My body reacted before I could stop it.

Heat spread from the wound outward, subtle at first, then stronger, like something inside me had been triggered automatically. The instinct to heal wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t optional.

It demanded.

I stiffened, forcing my hand to remain still even as the sensation grew stronger, pressing against something deeper inside me.

No.

Not now.

I forced my breathing to stay even, keeping my expression as neutral as possible as I lowered my arm slightly.

"Are you alright?" Mira asked, stepping closer.

"It’s nothing," I said quickly. "Just a scratch."

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at the cut.

"It shouldn’t have happened," she said. "I told you to stay balanced."

"I lost my footing," I replied.

"That’s exactly why I said this wasn’t a good idea."

I barely heard the rest of what she was saying. All my focus was on my arm, on the way my body was still trying to react.

The heat hadn’t disappeared. It lingered just beneath the surface, like it was waiting for permission I wasn’t giving it.

It would be so easy. Just let it happen.

Let it close. Let it fix itself.

I clenched my hand slightly, forcing the urge back.

No.

If I used it now—

I didn’t finish the thought.

"Liora," Mira said, pulling my attention back. "You’re not focusing."

"I am."

"No, you’re not," she replied. "You’re distracted, your movements are off, and you just got injured doing something basic. This isn’t training anymore. This is you pushing your body into something it’s not ready for."

I looked at her, steadying my expression.

"I can handle it."

"That’s not the point," she said. "Handling it isn’t enough if the cost is higher than what you gain."

She gestured toward my arm.

"You’re already proving that," she added.

I said nothing, because she wasn’t wrong. But she also didn’t know how right she actually was.

"If you continue like this, you’re going to injure yourself," Mira said firmly. "And not in a way you can just recover from easily."

The words settled heavily.

I nodded slowly, like I was agreeing, even though my mind was already moving in a different direction.

"Then I’ll be more careful," I said.

She studied me again, clearly not convinced.

"This isn’t about being careful," she replied. "This is about knowing your limits."

Limits.

The word sat wrong now. Because I didn’t know what mine were anymore.

"Enough for today," Mira said finally. "You’re done."

I didn’t argue this time.

Not because I agreed, but because I knew pushing further right now would only make her refuse completely next time.

I stepped back, lowering my arm fully now that the worst of the reaction had settled. The cut was still there, small but visible.

Untouched. Unhealed.

That alone felt like a victory but it didn’t feel like enough. As I turned to leave, Mira’s voice stopped me.

"Luna."

I looked back.

"If you keep going like this," she said, her tone quieter now but no less serious, "you might not walk away from it next time."

I held her gaze for a second, then nodded once before continuing toward the door.

The corridor outside felt colder than before.

Or maybe it was just me.

As I walked back toward my room, my thoughts stayed fixed on one thing.The way my body had reacted. The way it had almost taken over without my permission. The way it hadn’t felt like a choice.

I flexed my fingers slightly, the memory of it still there under my skin.

If I lost control of that...

If I used it without thinking...

I exhaled slowly, my steps steady even as the realization settled deeper. Every mistake I made now wouldn’t just cost me strength. It could cost me everything.

And for the first time since I started this, the thought came with a clarity I couldn’t ignore.

Every mistake I make now could be the one that kills me.