A Mate To Three Alpha Heirs-Chapter 200: Uncontrolled Power

{Elira}

~**^**~

The cafeteria buzzed with weekend chatter, laughter, spoons clinking, and someone’s music playing too loudly from a corner table.

But all I could focus on was the new message flashing on my smartwatch.

Zenon: [Meet me at the small woods near the West training field by noon. Make sure you are putting on something comfortable.]

I reread it three times before realizing my spoon had stopped midway to my mouth.

Tamryn was watching me from across the table, a chunk of toast in her hand. "What’s wrong?"

I forced a smile. "Nothing. Just... a message from Professor Zenon."

That earned me three curious stares and one knowing smirk from Nari.

I quickly stuffed the rest of my food in my mouth and mumbled something about needing to prepare, earning laughter as I escaped.

---

By noon, I was crossing the edge of ESA’s western grounds, the sun warm on my mofti—fitted dark jeans, a simple top, and my sneakers crunching on the gravel path.

The air smelled faintly of pine and rain-soaked leaves, and for some reason, it made my pulse speed up.

The small woods weren’t far, but they always carried this strange hush, the kind that made every step feel louder, every thought sharper.

As the trees thickened around me, I couldn’t help wondering why he had chosen this place.

Was it because he wanted privacy? So no other professors—or worse, the Student Council could accuse him of favouritism? Or accuse me of cheating?

The thought made my chest tighten.

A bird fluttered out of a branch ahead, startling me. I pressed my palm against my chest and exhaled, muttering under my breath, "Get it together, Elira."

A moment later, I spotted him.

Zenon stood a few meters ahead in the small clearing, the sunlight cutting across his dark hair and white shirt.

His sleeves were rolled to the elbow, and even from this distance, his posture was pure control—one of calm, unshaken, like he belonged there more than the trees themselves.

He turned slightly when he heard my approach. His gaze met mine, sharp, assessing, and unreadable.

"Good morning, Professor Zenon," I greeted.

"You’re on time," he said simply. "Good. Then, let’s begin." He nodded toward the open space before him.

I blinked, glancing around the quiet clearing. "Here?"

He didn’t answer, just stepped aside so the sunlight framed the spot where he stood.

As I walked toward him, I firmly confirmed why he had chosen this location for my training.

Zenon didn’t waste time before he started.

"Stand there," he said, pointing to the open patch of earth between us. "Feet apart. Hands relaxed."

I did as he said, though my palms were already damp. The forest floor was soft beneath my shoes, the air thick with the scent of moss and sun-warmed bark.

Zenon stepped closer, his presence a solid, quiet gravity. "You’ve been carrying power in your body for a while now. You feel it, don’t you?"

I nodded slowly. "It’s... always there. Like heat under my skin."

"Good." His gaze held steady on mine. "But you haven’t tried to control it yet because of fear."

"Yes," I admitted. "I’m scared I will hurt someone. Or myself."

He gave a single nod, calm but unreadable. "Fear is natural. But uncontrolled power doesn’t care about fear—it feeds on it. So, before you learn to fight with it, you will learn to listen to it."

He stopped just a few paces away from me, his tone dropping lower. "Close your eyes."

I hesitated, but one sharp look from him made me obey.

"Now," he said, his voice smooth, steady, "breathe."

The sound of the forest filled the silence—the wind whispering through leaves, the faint chirp of a bird.

"Don’t force it," Zenon continued. "Just let the air move through you. Feel where your energy sits. Where it wants to flow."

I exhaled slowly. At first, there was nothing. Then, faintly, I felt it—like a warm current sliding up from my chest to my fingertips, pulsing faintly with every beat of my heart.

My brow furrowed. "It’s... moving."

"Good. Now focus. Don’t chase it, don’t push it—just listen."

The warmth coiled tighter, humming beneath my skin. It felt wild, restless—like something ancient waking up.

Zenon circled around me, his footsteps light. "This is your power’s rhythm. Every being is different. Yours burns."

I swallowed. "Burns?"

"Fire, isn’t it?" he asked quietly.

I opened my eyes. His gaze was fixed on me, unwavering. I nodded. "Yes."

"Then stop running from it." His tone sharpened, not harsh but commanding. "Fire only obeys strength. Not fear. If you flinch from it, it will consume you."

I could feel my pulse racing faster, the warmth growing hotter, almost uncomfortably so. I tried to steady my breathing, but my hands trembled.

Zenon noticed. "Elira."

My eyes snapped to him.

He took another step closer—close enough that I could feel his aura brushing against mine. "You are not a child with locked channels anymore. You are a wolf with fire in her blood. Own it."

The words hit something deep inside me. My chest felt tight.

I clenched my fists, exhaling through my teeth, and then I let go—just a little.

A shimmer of heat rippled from my fingertips, faint but real. The air between us seemed to waver, a thin line of warmth dancing before it vanished.

My eyes widened. "I—did you see that?"

Zenon’s lips curved faintly, the closest thing to approval I’d ever seen from him. "I did."

I couldn’t help it—a small, breathless laugh slipped out. "I actually did it."

He tilted his head, studying me. "Barely. But it’s a start."

I rolled my eyes lightly, still smiling despite my racing heart. "You could try sounding a little more impressed."

He gave a quiet hum that almost sounded like a chuckle. "When you can control it without shaking, I will be impressed."

The warmth under my skin flared again—this time not just from the fire.

Zenon stood a few feet away, his arms folded, eyes fixed on me like I was the only thing that existed in that quiet patch of woods.

"Again," he said, his tone calm but unyielding. "You have less than seven days to control this before Founder’s Day. And unlike the duels before, your opponents won’t hold back—they will use everything they’ve got. If you go in half-ready, you will be lucky to walk away."

His words sank into me like a weight. I nodded. "Understood."

"Good. Now channel again, but this time, direct it. Don’t let it spread. Find your centre, then command it outward, one flow at a time."

I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply, and tried to feel for that rhythm he had spoken about earlier. It was there—faint at first, then swelling like a pulse beneath my ribs, moving to my palms.

The heat built slowly, prickling along my arms. My fingers tingled. I opened my eyes—wisps of shimmering air coiled from my hands, faint but visible.

Zenon circled me, his voice steady. "Control it. Don’t let it climb too fast. Fire listens only to those who command it."

"I’m trying," I murmured through clenched teeth. The warmth surged higher, crawling up my throat. "It’s... strong today."

"That’s because it senses your fear." His tone cut through the tremor in my chest. "You can’t hide from it, Elira. Power is instinct—it mirrors you. If you lose focus, it will remind you who is really in control."

I took a sharp breath, trying to steady myself. For a few seconds, I had it—the fire pulsed evenly in my palms, soft orange light flickering there. A small, proud smile tugged at my lips.

"Better," Zenon said, nodding once. "Now, hold it. Don’t—"

A sudden spark burst from my fingers, hitting a tree trunk behind him with a faint crack.

I gasped, stumbling back. "I didn’t— I didn’t mean to—"

Zenon didn’t flinch. "You lost focus. Again."

"I was concentrating!"

"No," he countered, stepping closer, voice low. "You hesitated. You thought about what might happen instead of making it happen. Power doesn’t wait for permission."

His words struck deep. I gritted my teeth and tried again, ignoring the sting in my palms. The air shimmered, thicker this time.

"That’s it," Zenon said softly. "Now, command it forward. Don’t fear it. Direct it."

I exhaled and pushed the warmth outward. Flames flickered faintly at my fingertips, like tiny ribbons of molten light. I guided them slowly, tracing the air until they formed a faint arc.

Zenon’s eyes narrowed. "Good. Now, pull it back."

"I—I can’t."

"Elira." His voice grew sharp. "You can. Just focus."

I tried. The flames responded—at first. But then something inside me snapped, a rush too hot, too wild. The warmth turned searing, my heartbeat hammering out of rhythm.

"Zenon—"

The air ignited. A burst of fire exploded outward, slamming against the ground and scattering embers through the leaves. I screamed, stumbling back.

And then, before I could spiral further, I felt him. His presence—sharp, grounding, his aura pressing against mine like cool stone.