The forest didn't wait for anyone.
The morning after the council made their decision, I woke up before dawn. My body was already tense, straining to listen. The village was still in its usual quiet, but the trees beyond the boundary were alive with purpose. It felt like a tugging in my ribs, gentle, yet insistent.
Today wasn't going to be just another day.
I got dressed fast and stepped outside. The air was cool, sharp enough to wake me up completely. Mist hung low near the forest's edge, curling around the tree trunks like a soft breath. For the first time since the Mark, I didn't hesitate.
I walked right up to the boundary.
Elder Corvin was already there.
He leaned on his staff, eyes fixed on the trees with an expression I couldn't quite decipher. It wasn't worry or fear but more like anticipation.
"You're early," he said.
"I didn't sleep much," I admitted.
A faint smile flickered across his face. "You won't, for a while."
Before I could ask what he meant, the forest answered.
A ripple moved through the trees. Leaves rustled, shadows deepened, and then he stepped out.
The Alpha.
He moved with a quiet confidence, tall and broad-shouldered, and it felt like the surrounding space shifted effortlessly. His amber eyes met mine, steady and assessing. Not predatory. Not distant.
*Intent.*
My breath caught in my throat, and I hated that it did.
"You can feel it now," Corvin said softly. "The pull."
"Yes," I admitted, feeling a mix of excitement and fear.
"That's where your training begins," the alpha said, his voice low and steady. "Not strength. Awareness."
Corvin stepped back. "I won't cross," he told me. "This part is between you and the forest."
My heart raced as I took a step forward.
The moment I crossed the boundary, everything changed.
Colors got sharper. Sounds layered. The ground beneath my feet felt alive, almost like it was responding to me. I breathed in, and the forest seemed to breathe with me.
The Alpha led me deeper, not saying a word, letting me soak it all in. Birds flew off as we passed, and the insects paused. The forest was watching.
"Close your eyes," he instructed.
I did.
"Feel where your body ends," he said. "And where the forest begins."
At first, all I could sense was my own breathing. Then warmth blossomed in my chest, spreading out. I felt roots beneath my feet, branches overhead, and movement far beyond what I could see.
I gasped and staggered.
The Alpha caught me just in time. His grip was firm but gentle.
"Too much," he said. "You reached out before you anchored yourself."
"I thought I was supposed to listen," I said, a bit frustrated.
"You are," he replied calmly. "But listening without grounding is how power fractures."
He let go of me and stepped back. "Again."
We did it over and over.
Each time, I stumbled a little less.
By midday, sweat clung to my skin, and my limbs felt like jelly. My head throbbed from all the concentration, but beneath the exhaustion, something steadier was forming.
*Control.*
"Power isn't about force," the Alpha said as we took a break. "It's about permission."
"Permission?" I echoed, trying to grasp the idea.
"You don't command the forest," he explained. "You invite it in."
It sounded simple, but it wasn't.
When we started up again, he ramped up the difficulty.
He had me walk blindfolded over uneven ground, relying on my instincts to find my way. He made sudden noises in the forest to test my reactions. At one point, without warning, he let his presence flare.
I reacted by instinct.
The ground beneath me cracked, a surge of energy bursting out.
Then there was silence.
The Alpha froze.
The forest pulled back.
Fear washed over me. "I didn't mean to."
"That," he said sharply, "is why restraint matters."
Shame burned in my chest.
We wrapped up early that day.
On the way back, I felt the forest withdraw a little, not out of anger, but by caution. That realization hit harder than the Alpha's reprimand.
Back at the boundary, Corvin was waiting for me.
"How did it go?" he asked.
"I am scared of it," I said quietly.
Corvin studied me closely. "Good."
I blinked at him. "Good?"
"You recognized it," he said. "That's the difference between destruction and growth."
That night, the dreams came back.
But this time, they weren't gentle.
I saw fire not from torches, but from buildings. I woke up to a world filled with shouting, panic, and the clash of metal. Shadows twisted around me, fueled by hunger and fear. My heart was racing, and I could taste ash lingering in my mouth.
Something was coming.
The second day of training turned out to be even tougher than the first.
The Alpha pushed me hard. My muscles screamed, and I struggled to stay focused. He made me hold onto my energy instead of just letting it go, forcing me to redirect my instincts rather than simply following them.
At one point, I hit a wall of frustration.
"I can feel everything!" I shot back. "But I don't know how to turn it off!"
The Alpha looked at me with understanding in his eyes. "You don't turn it off," he replied. "You choose what matters."
He placed a hand on my chest. "Start here."
When I turned my focus inward instead of letting everything outside distract me, the noise began to fade away.
Suddenly, everything clicked.
Later that afternoon, Corvin joined us near the edge of the forest.
"You're not the only one trying to adjust," he said, his tone serious. "We spotted scouts from the lowlands near the ridge."
I could see the Alpha tense up immediately.
"They felt the shift," he said, his voice low.
"And others have noticed too," Corvin added. "Not all of them are friendly."
A chill ran down my spine.
"What does that mean?" I asked, my voice steady but my heart racing.
"It means," Corvin said carefully, "your training can't drag on anymore."
The Alpha locked eyes with me. "Can you stand?"
"Yes," I replied, even though my legs were shaking.
"Then we keep going."
As the sun began to set, I fought against fear, fatigue, and doubt. I stumbled. I learned. I stumbled again.
But then, just once, everything fell into place.
The forest responded gently.
Not with a bang. Not with danger.
But perfectly.
The Alpha smiled.
That night, as I stood at the boundary, I came to a realization.
Being chosen wasn't just about having power.
It was about responsibility.
And the world beyond Ebonridge was already in motion.
