10. Elowen

10

ELOWEN

S weat drips down my forehead, stinging my eyes as I push through another grueling set of drills. My muscles scream in protest, but I refuse to give in. The skeptical gazes of the vrakken around me are a constant reminder that I need to prove myself. Every punch, every kick, every maneuver is a testament to my determination.

"Faster, Elowen!" Nikolai's voice booms through the training ground.

I grit my teeth and increase my pace, focusing on the target in front of me. My fists fly, striking with precision and power. The vrakken might be faster and stronger, but I have something they don't: relentless tenacity. Each strike echoes my resolve to be more than just a human among legends.

The training seems endless, each drill blending into the next. My breath comes in ragged gasps, but I keep going. Pain is temporary; pride lasts longer.

Aldric's presence pulls at the edge of my consciousness. He's sparring across the field, his movements fluid and powerful. It's impossible not to notice him—the way his muscles ripple with each strike, the sheer grace and strength he exudes. Despite myself, my eyes wander over to him.

I catch a glimpse of him blocking a blow with effortless precision before delivering a counterattack that sends his opponent sprawling. He moves like a shadow, quick and deadly, a predator in his element. For a moment, I'm lost in watching him, captivated by his prowess and raw magnetism.

"Focus!" Nikolai snaps.

I blink and force myself back into the present, redoubling my efforts on the training dummy before me. Each strike lands harder than the last as if I can beat the distraction out of myself. But it's no use; Aldric's image lingers in my mind.

Training finally comes to an end, and I feel every muscle in my body sigh with relief. I bend over to catch my breath, wiping sweat from my brow when I feel eyes on me. Glancing up, I find Aldric looking directly at me from across the field.

Our eyes lock for what feels like an eternity. His piercing silver gaze seems to look right through me. Heat rises to my cheeks, and I quickly look away, embarrassed by how easily he affects me.

I gather my things hastily, shoving them into my bag as if keeping busy can erase the moment we shared. With one last glance around the training ground, I head towards the exit, trying to ignore how Aldric's gaze seems to follow me even when I'm not looking at him.

As I leave the training ground, the murmurs start. The vrakken don't even try to hide their disdain.

"Look at her, trying to be one of us," one sneers.

"Humans don't belong here," another adds with a chuckle.

I feel the anger flare inside me. My hands clench into fists, knuckles white. I spin around, glaring at them with all the fire I can muster.

"You think your sneers matter?" I snap. "I've survived more than you can imagine. If you have a problem with me, say it to my face."

They fall silent, taken aback by my outburst. I don't wait for a response, shouldering my way through the crowd, head held high. Each step feels like defiance against their hostility. Their words sting, but I refuse to let them see me falter.

The corridor leading back to my room is dimly lit, the cool stone walls a stark contrast to the sweltering heat of the training ground. My mind races with thoughts of the day's events, Aldric's intense gaze still lingering in my mind despite my best efforts to push it aside.

Turning a corner, I nearly collide with Selene. Her honey-colored eyes widen as she takes in my appearance.

"Elowen," she breathes, concern evident in her voice. "You're hurt."

"It's nothing," I mutter, brushing past her.

But Selene isn't one to be easily dismissed. She steps in front of me, blocking my path and gently lifting my chin to examine a bruise forming on my cheek.

"This isn't nothing," she insists. "Let me come with you."

I hesitate for a moment but then nod reluctantly. Selene falls into step beside me as we make our way back to my room. Her presence is comforting, a reminder that not all vrakken are against me.

"You're pushing yourself too hard," she says softly.

"I have to," I reply, my voice hardening. "I need to prove myself."

"You already have," Selene says gently. "To those who matter."

We reach my room, and Selene helps me inside. She's right—I have nothing to prove to those who don't see my worth. But that doesn't make their hostility any easier to bear.

Selene's touch is soothing as she tends to my cuts and bruises. As the pain ebbs away under her care, I feel a flicker of hope amidst the doubt and exhaustion.

"Thank you," I murmur as she finishes wrapping a bandage around my wrist.

"Anytime," she replies with a warm smile. "We're in this together."

Selene's touch is gentle as she finishes wrapping the bandage around my wrist. Her honey-colored eyes hold a warmth that cuts through the cold stone of the tunnels.

"You know," she begins, her voice soft yet firm, "I faced the same kind of rejection when I first arrived here."

I glance up, curiosity piqued. Selene, always so composed and confident, had faced this too?

She continues, "When Raziel brought me into the tunnels, it was like dropping a pebble into a pond. The ripples spread far and wide. The vrakken weren't exactly thrilled to have a human among them. They saw me as an outsider, a liability."

Her words resonate with me, striking a chord deep within. I lean back against the cool stone wall, letting her story wash over me.

"I had to prove myself every single day," Selene says, her gaze distant as if reliving those moments. "It wasn't just about survival; it was about earning their respect. And it wasn't easy."

I nod slowly, understanding dawning on me. "But you did it," I say, more a statement than a question.

She smiles softly. "Yes, but not without pushing myself to the brink more times than I care to admit. And that's what I'm worried about with you."

Her concern is palpable, and it tugs at something inside me. She sees through my tough exterior to the exhaustion beneath.

"Elowen," she says gently but firmly, "you can't keep pushing yourself like this. There's no point in proving yourself if there's nothing left of you by the end."

I swallow hard, feeling the weight of her words settle over me. She's right, of course. But stopping? That feels impossible.

"Promise me," she presses, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that's hard to ignore. "Promise you'll take care of yourself too."

I hesitate for a moment before nodding slowly. "I promise," I say quietly, though my resolve wavers internally.

Selene smiles, relief evident in her expression. "Good. You're strong and determined, Elowen. But even the strongest need to rest."

She gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze before standing up to leave.

As the door closes behind her, I sit in silence for a moment, absorbing everything she said. The weight of my promise hangs heavy in the air.

I know I can't stop pushing myself—not when there's so much at stake—but perhaps... perhaps I can find a balance. For now, though, all I can do is try.

The next morning, I arrive at the training area, the chill of the morning air seeping through my leathers. My muscles are sore, but the fire inside me burns brighter than ever. Today, I need to prove I can keep up.

Aldric stands across the field, his presence commanding. As he strides towards me, I can't help but take him in—the broad shoulders, the sharp lines of his face, the intensity in his silver eyes. Damn it, Elowen. Focus.

"Ready for another round?" His voice is low, almost a growl.

I nod, determined to keep my composure. "Always."

He raises an eyebrow. "We're working one on one today. You think you can handle that?"

"Do you?" I shoot back.

A smirk tugs at his lips. "Let's find out."

We start with basic drills, but Aldric pushes me harder than ever. His movements are fluid, precise—each strike a lesson in control and power. I mimic his moves as best as I can, though it's impossible not to notice how effortlessly he executes each one.

"Keep your stance wider," he instructs, circling me like a predator assessing its prey.

I adjust my feet, irritation bubbling up. "Like this?"

"Better," he says, though his tone suggests it's far from perfect.

As we move into sparring, our exchanges grow more intense. Every time I land a hit, he counters with twice the force. But I don't back down. Not now.

"Your form's sloppy," he taunts after dodging a punch.

"And your ego's too big," I retort, ducking under his arm and aiming for his ribs.

He blocks easily, but there's a spark of amusement in his eyes. "Maybe you're just distracted."

I bristle at the implication but refuse to give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, I focus on the rhythm of our fight—the give and take that keeps us moving in sync despite our differences.

For every jab he throws, I counter with one of my own. Our snarky remarks punctuate the air like sharp arrows, each one hitting its mark with precision.

"You call that a punch?" he mocks after blocking another strike.

"It's hard to aim when your head's so big," I snap back.

His laughter is unexpected—a deep rumble that catches me off guard for just a second too long. He takes advantage of my distraction and sweeps my legs out from under me.

I hit the ground hard but scramble back to my feet almost instantly, glaring at him through strands of red hair that have come loose from their tie.

"Nice try," he says with a grin that makes my stomach flip in ways it shouldn't.

I narrow my eyes at him, wiping sweat from my brow. "This isn't over."

"Not by a long shot," Aldric agrees, his gaze locking onto mine.

We resume our sparring, the rhythm between us growing more seamless with each passing moment. And I start to think that maybe, I don't mind this hot guy training me…