Chapter 6 – Training with Shadows

Silvercrest Academy – Midnight

Silvercrest Academy was never truly quiet.

Even past curfew, the night pulsed with hidden life. Shadows slithered across the moonlit corridors, whispers of forbidden spells curled through the air, and unseen figures moved in the dark, ensuring that power never truly rested.

Ronan had spent his life ruling over others, commanding wolves, thriving in dominance. Now? He walked these halls as a rogue—a Forsaken.

But not for long.

The silver key Selene had given him was cold between his fingers as he followed her instructions. He moved without sound, weaving through the East Wing, past the illusion spells that disguised an underground entrance beneath the academy.

He wasn't sure what he expected.

But he knew one thing.

If he was going to survive, if he was going to find a way to control whatever was inside him, he needed answers.

And Selene was the only one offering them.

The underground entrance opened into a cavernous chamber, old as the academy itself.

Ronan stepped inside and felt the difference immediately.

The air was thick with energy—not magic, but something raw, untamed. Unlike the polished combat halls above, this place felt wild. Ancient.

The ground was uneven, scarred from battles that had taken place centuries ago. Torches lined the rough stone walls, their flickering light casting twisting shadows across the space.

Selene was already there, standing in the center of the training arena, stretching her arms.

"You're on time," she murmured without turning around.

Ronan smirked. "What, you thought I'd run?"

"No," Selene said, rolling her shoulders. "I thought you'd hesitate."

She turned to face him, her violet eyes sharp, expectant.

"You say you want to control your power?" she asked.

Ronan's smirk faded. "Yeah."

Selene tilted her head. "Then prove it."

And then—

She attacked.

..

The dagger was a silver blur, flashing toward Ronan's throat.

He dodged, barely, twisting as the blade sliced through the air where his neck had been a second ago.

Selene didn't let up. She moved with precision and purpose, her strikes quick, ruthless. No wasted movements. No hesitation.

Ronan barely had time to counter before another dagger strike came dangerously close to his ribs.

"Come on, Ronan," Selene taunted, eyes gleaming. "You're supposed to be stronger than this."

Ronan growled.

A pulse of something dark and electric burned in his chest.

Suddenly—

His vision sharpened.

Everything slowed for a fraction of a second.

Selene's next attack felt predictable, as if he had already seen it before she even moved.

Ronan reacted instinctively.

He caught her wrist mid-strike—faster than even he expected.

Selene's eyes widened slightly. "There it is."

Before he could respond, she twisted, using his own momentum against him. She flipped over his grip, landing smoothly a few feet away.

She smirked. "You felt that, didn't you?"

Ronan exhaled. He had.

For a moment, it was like he wasn't just reacting—he was anticipating.

His instincts weren't just those of a werewolf anymore.

They were something else.

Selene straightened. "We're going to keep pushing you until that power fully wakes up. But you need to understand something, Ronan."

She stepped closer, voice lowering.

"The power inside you? It isn't like a werewolf's strength. It isn't controlled by your beast. It's tied to something older. Something deeper."

Ronan swallowed, his pulse still pounding from the fight. "Then what the hell is it?"

Selene hesitated.

Then she said, softly—

"That's what we need to find out."

..

They sat on the edge of the training grounds, breath still heavy from sparring.

Selene pulled out a worn parchment, unfolding it with careful hands.

"This is everything I've found on the Forsaken," she said.

Ronan leaned in. The text was ancient, the ink faded.

The Forsaken were not born… they were made.

Wolves cursed under the Blood Moon, stripped of their packs, their bonds severed.

They were hunted. Feared. And eventually, they vanished.

Ronan frowned. "But why? What made them so dangerous?"

Selene tapped a section of the text.

"Because they weren't just wolves anymore."

She turned the parchment, revealing an illustration—a figure with the glowing eyes of a werewolf but an aura of something far darker.

"Forsaken ones could do what no werewolf could," Selene murmured. "They could command lunar energy itself. They didn't just shift into wolves—they shifted into something more."

Ronan exhaled. He thought back to the fight in the arena.

The way his body had moved on its own. The way he had unleashed that pulse of energy.

"That's what happened to me, isn't it?" he said quietly.

Selene nodded. "And if the academy finds out what you really are, Ronan… they won't just fear you."

Her gaze met his, uncharacteristically serious.

"They'll try to kill you."

..

Later that night, as Ronan left the underground arena, his instincts prickled.

Someone was watching him.

He turned a corner and—

A cloaked figure stepped out of the darkness.

Ronan tensed, his muscles coiling in preparation for a fight. "You lost?"

The figure chuckled. "Not at all. I've been waiting for you."

Ronan's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

The figure slowly pulled back his hood.

A young man with raven-black hair and eerie silver eyes smirked at him. His presence was… unnatural.

"My name is Kael," he said. "And I know what you are, Ronan Blackwood."

Ronan's breath stilled.

Kael's smirk deepened. "I also know what's coming. And if you want to survive it?"

His silver eyes flashed.

"You're going to need more than just training. You're going to need allies."