CHAPTER FIVE- SHADOWBORN.
Snow had come too soon this year.
I didn’t need the calendar to tell me that. The way the wind blew just as a wolf giving warning outside, the way the world had disappeared under sheets of white, it was enough. Even the fire couldn’t chase the chill away.
A thick wool blanket settled over my shoulders. Mira must have put it there, quiet as always. I didn’t look up. I just stared out the window, watching the trees fall under the heaviness of winter’s arrival.
Her herb garden, once fragrant and alive, was now nothing more than a soft globe under the snow. Buried too easily. Too fast.
The door creaked. Mira walked in, her boots leaving front prints across the wooden ground.
Snow clung stubbornly to her sleeves, and she brushed it off with her wrist. No complaints. No surprise. As if this was expected.
She sat across from me and began sorting dried roots into neat piles, her fingers careful, almost reverent.
She didn’t speak. She didn’t have to.
The silence said it all… Winter had come uninvited… and it wasn’t leaving anytime soon.
After a while, she said, “You’ve lasted longer than most.”
I didn’t turn from the window. “Most what?”
“Exiles. Cast-outs. They come through these woods, starving and wild. Most find the rogue trails.”
“And the others?”
She looked up. “Die trying.”
I pulled the blanket tighter around myself.
“You’re different,” she said.
“I’m just surviving.”
“No,” Mira said. “You’re waiting.”
I glanced at her. “For what?”
“You tell me.”
I dropped my gaze to the floor. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“You’re listening to something.” She started sorting the roots again. “You just don’t know its name yet.”
She stood and left me with the fire and the storm outside.
Her words wrapped around me tighter than the blanket.
What was I listening for?
A memory stirred, unbidden.
My mother’s hands, warm and rough, cupping my cheeks.
She’d whispered something then, her voice soft as feathers and full of something I hadn’t understood. Not then.
It wasn't comfortable.
It was goodbye.
I hadn’t known how to ask what her words meant.
But I know now…
They weren’t meant to be answered.
Only followed.
~~*~~
The next morning, Mira handed me a blade.
Not a sword. Not anything grand. Just a hunting knife, its leather grip cracked, the edge worn but gleaming sharp.
She pressed it into my palm with firm fingers. “Time you learned to protect yourself.”
I stared at it, unsure how to carry it, due to its heaviness. “I don’t know how. “The more reason I am teaching you.” She turned, already walking toward the back door. “Come.”
The clearing behind the cabin was still layered in snow, though the sun had begun to soften the crust. Trees circled us. The wind carried birdsong for the first time in weeks.
Mira didn’t waste time.
“Blade up. Feet apart.”
Mimicking her stance, awkward and stiff.
“Wrong.” She stepped behind me, nudged my elbows, and shifted my body. “Again.”
I adjusted. Tried again.
Then, without warning, she lunged.
Stumbling backward, I nearly fell. “Hey!” I yelled.
Her eyes narrowed. “The world doesn’t wait for you to be ready. It attacks.”
She stepped back, stance lowered. “Again.”
The second time, I dodged. Clumsy. Off balance.
But I didn’t fall.
And Mira grinned, just a flicker. “Better.”
That became our rhythm. Day after day. Blade. Breath. Bruises. I bled once, just a graze, but I didn’t quit. Every movement burned. Every mistake echoed in my bones.
But I was learning.
With each swing, I felt it, the trembling girl who’d once crawled into a cave to die was sharpening. Not into something vengeful.
Into something alive.
~~*~~
The clinging sound of blades spread across the training field as the morning sun stretched lazily over the treetops. I suddenly blink away sleep from my eyes as my body is already adjusting to the daily routine of waking, stretching, fighting, and surviving. My spirit felt oddly light today. Maybe it was the breeze, maybe something else.
Until I saw him.
Silver hair, tousled like moonlight in motion. Tall, poised, ethereal. His silver eyes locked on me, and the breath caught in my throat. He didn’t smile. He didn’t need to. His presence alone unraveled something deep inside me.
He approached with slow, sure steps, each one igniting a flicker of something I couldn't name.
“Ava,” he said, voice like smoke curling through my name. Gentle. Too gentle for the sharp lines of his face.
I stared, stunned. “Why are you here?”
“I’ll be taking over from Mira,” he replied, tone flat. Detached. Not even a flicker of warmth.
My mouth opened, but the words spilled before thought could stop them. “You were the one who saved me... Why?” My voice cracked. “Why did you even bother?”
He didn’t answer. Not right away. His gaze held mine, unreadable, cold.
“The Shadowborn will soon come for you,” he said at last. “You need to be ready.”
“What do you mean? What Shadowborn? Why me…?”
Steel hissed.
I barely had time to react before he charged at me, blade gleaming like moonfire. I moved quickly on instinct, heart slamming into my ribs.
“Are you insane?” I gasped, stepping back. “You could’ve killed me!”
His blade came again, faster.
“Strike, Ava to the left!” he barked.
My sword jerked leftward, catching his just in time, but my balance slipped. A crack of pain shot up my leg. My knees buckled.
The backlash was instant.
My wolf screamed inside me.
Something was building in my chest, pressure more like something tearing under the surface, like fire being ripped apart. I gasped, falling hard on the ground, sword falling beside me. My vision dimmed. T
he world spun, dipped, and twisted.
“Ava!” his voice cut through, sharp this time. Urgent. “A- Ava are you…”
Darkness stole his voice.
Stole everything.
