Chapter eight

Noctis stepped out of the mansion and headed straight for the infirmary, there were very few people that Noctis trusted in Serenith and Helda was one of them, Noctis was thirteen when his mother- his last remaining relative- died, it hit him hard. Helda’s father, Gertrude, took him in an raised him, trained him. Helda was the same age as him, they grew up up together, trained together until they choose their different specialties, Helda became a healer and he joined army, so many years have passed but she was still his person.

Noctis opened the infirmary door and found Helda attending to a trainee that broke his leg sparring. He nodded towards her private office and she understood he was going to wait there.

“How did it go?” Helda asked shutting her office door behind her and locking it.

“He let her stay,” Noctis replied,

“That's amazing, I really thought he would have had her executed just to piss you off.” She took a seat beside Noctis.

“So, what did you find out.” Noctis asked referring to the tests Helda had carried out on Arya.

“Always straight to business with you,” Helda teased, she reached to her desk and grabbed a file.

“I have to be with the trainees in an hour,” he explained and Helda nodded, understanding.

“I tested her blood and ran it to see if I would find a match in our system, but I didn't,” she explained,

“That would make finding her parents difficult,” he stated and she nodded.

“But that's not the crazy thing,” she hands him a paper, “that is her blood work, this is the amount of silver and wolfsbane in her system,”

“There has to be a mistake,” he stared intently at unbelivablely high number on the paper.

“There isn't, I ran it five times with five different machines, she should be dead.”

“How did you find this girl Noctis,” Helda asked, worry etched on her face,

Noctis sigh, he had to tell her, she was the only one he trusted to keep it a secret. “Helda, she's my mate.” He said, his voice barely above a whisper, no one could find out, her life and his depended on it.

“What!,” Helda exclaimed, “when did you know,”

“The first time I saw her, last week,” he admitted, turning his gaze to the window at their side.

He slowly told her all that happened leading to him showing up at her door that night.

Looking intently into her eyes, he asked “You understand why no one can know this right?”

“Do I understand,” she scuffed, “of course I understand, Theron will not let anything come between the engagement, what are you going to do?”

“I have no idea”.

***

Arya jolted awake the last fragment of her unnerving dream slipping away before she could hold on to it. She took a couple of second to remind herself where she was, and as she did feelings of loss and grief creeped in but she took those feelings and shoved them in a mental box at the back of her mind, she couldn't afford to break down now, what she needed was a plan, food and to open her door to whoever was knocking, not necessarily in that other.

She opened the door and Helda stepped in with a tray and a bag.

“You missed dinner lunch, and you need food to recover your strength,” she explained, setting the food down on the desk, “then these are your uniforms for training, I added some casual clothes for when you aren't training, but if you want your own clothes, I can arrange for someone to take you shopping.”

“Thank you,” Arya replied, “but what I really want is to go home, can you arrange that,” her tone was colder than she intended.

Helda sighed, “Arya, I couldn't begin to understand what you are going through, but I know this, the amount of silver and wolfsbane in your blood is enough to kill two fully grown wolves, I have no idea how this will affect you but I want to help you, and I am ninety five percent such I'm the only person in the continent that can help you. But you have to be here.”

Helda's words sipped into her creating a deep ache in her chest.

“Someone did this to me,” she muttered, the realization that someone could have done this to her and she had no idea was another kind of pain entirely.

“I want to know why,” she said, a new determination in her voice.

“And I want to help you,”.

After eating the food Helda brought, Arya accepted Helda's offer to show her around properly this time.

Arya stretched her limbs as she followed Helda out of her room, rolling her shoulders and wincing at the lingering soreness. Her body still felt like it had been put through a blender, but at least she could walk without feeling like her bones were going to snap in half. Small victories.

“Alright,” Helda said as they stepped into the hallway. “Since you’re going to be living here for the foreseeable future, it’s time to learn the lay of the land. Pay attention, rookie—this place has rules, both written and unwritten.”

Arya raised an eyebrow. “And I’m guessing the unwritten ones will get me in the most trouble?”

Helda smirked. “Exactly. Let’s start with the basics.”

They moved down the fourth-floor corridor, the wooden floors creaking slightly under their steps. Doors lined both sides of the hallway, some open just enough for Arya to catch glimpses of wolves lounging, sharpening weapons, or just talking in hushed tones.

“The dorms are split by rank,” Helda explained. “The higher your standing, the closer you are to the lower floors. Newbies, unranked wolves, and those still proving themselves? They stay up here.”

Arya nodded, taking in the information. “So, I’m basically at the bottom of the food chain.”

“For now,” Helda said, unbothered. “Everyone starts somewhere. Just don’t pick fights you can’t win, and don’t get caught alone in a hallway with someone looking for a punching bag.”

“Noted.”

They reached the main staircase, which was wide enough to fit at least ten people side by side. As they descended to the third floor, the atmosphere subtly changed—the hallways were cleaner, the doors sturdier, and the scent of sweat and metal was much stronger.

“This is where the real work begins,” Helda said. “Lecture halls, strategy rooms, and combat theory classes. You’ll be expected to keep up with lessons on werewolf history, battle tactics, and survival skills.”

Arya glanced inside one of the rooms as they passed. A group of wolves sat at long wooden tables, listening as an older man drew battle formations on a massive board.

“I thought werewolves were all about instinct,” Arya said.

Helda snorted. “Instinct will only get you so far. You need to know how to fight with your brain as much as your fists.”

They continued downward, reaching the second floor, where the air grew heavier with the scent of sweat, leather, and something metallic—blood?

Helda gestured towards an open gymnasium, where wolves sparred in pairs. The sounds of grunts, growls, and fists meeting flesh filled the space.

“This is the combat wing. You’ll be spending most of your time here.”

Arya observed the setup—padded mats, weapon racks lining the walls, and a training ring in the center where two wolves circled each other, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Helda followed her gaze. “That ring? Only ranked fights happen there. If you ever challenge someone, that’s where you settle it. Otherwise, you train on the mats or with the instructors.”

Arya crossed her arms. “And who are the instructors?”

Helda hesitated for a second before answering. “One of them is Noctis. He handles combat training.”

Arya exhaled through her nose. Great. Just great.

Helda didn’t comment on her expression and continued walking.

Past the gym, they entered a long corridor leading to several other rooms. Helda gestured at a set of reinforced double doors.

“Sparring halls,” she said. “Indoor combat practice, especially for shifting forms. The walls are reinforced, so no one accidentally tears the place apart.”

Arya nodded, resisting the urge to roll her shoulders again.

They passed another set of stairs, leading down to the first floor.

“Admin offices are down here,” Helda said. “And first-aid stations, which—if you’re smart—you’ll learn to avoid as much as possible.”

“Noted,” Arya muttered.

They continued walking, eventually reaching the main entrance of the training wing. Through the large archway, Arya could see a massive courtyard, lined with torches and small sparring circles.

Helda leaned against the doorframe. “The courtyard’s where most of the trainees hang out between sessions. If you want to get a read on people, that’s the place to do it.”

Arya took it all in—the hushed conversations, the occasional bark of laughter, the tension hanging in the air like an unspoken challenge.

She sighed. “So,

when do I start?”

Helda grinned. “Tomorrow. Try not to die on your first day,”

Arya groaned. This was going to be a nightmare.