The Awakening

Chapter 5

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Estelle

The firelight flickered against the walls of Zen’s war tent, shadows twisting like restless spirits.

My body still ached from the assassin’s blades, but it was the strange marks on my skin that refused to leave my mind. Faint, glowing lines, curling like silver fire, had flared to life when I bled.

I rubbed at my forearm, but the marks were gone now, as if they’d never existed.

“What are you hiding from me, Estelle?” Zen’s voice was low, but it carried a dangerous weight. He leaned against the table with his arm crossed, and his grey eyes once again watching me like a wolf stalking prey.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I whispered, though the lie caught in my throat.

His lips curved in something between a smirk and a snarl. “Don’t play me for a fool. I saw it. My warriors saw it. That light wasn’t normal. Blood doesn’t glow.”

I flinched. My father’s words came back to me, ‘You’re too weak, Estelle. You’ll never be more than a shadow beside Anette without a wolf.’

But if I was weak, then why did my blood burn brighter than fire?

Zen stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “Tell me the truth. What are you?”

My fists clenched at my sides. “I’m nothing. I was supposed to be Luna of my pack, but Elias rejected me. My father cast me out. I don’t know what you saw, but it doesn’t change that I’m nothing.”

For a moment, silence hung between us. Then Zen’s hand shot out, gripping my chin and forcing me to meet his eyes. His touch wasn’t gentle—it was commanding, demanding I stop hiding.

“You believe that?” he asked, voice sharper than steel. “That you’re nothing? Then why are they so desperate to see you dead?”

The question pierced through me. My chest tightened as tears threatened, but I blinked them back. “Because they hate me.”

“No,” Zen said, his gaze never wavering. “Because you’re dangerous.”

I staggered back when he released me. Dangerous. The word echoed in my skull. My father had spent years making me feel powerless, unwanted. Yet Zen’s certainty cracked that lie open.

He turned away, pouring himself a drink, his voice softer now. “Your father isn’t the type to discard what’s useless. He only discards what threatens him. Which means, Estelle… you’re far more than you think.”

My knees weakened, and I sank onto the edge of the cot. Memories rushed back—my father’s constant praise of Anette, his cruel disregard for me, the way Elias’ eyes shifted from warmth to ice the moment Anette entered the room.

Had it all been because of… whatever lived inside me?

“I don’t understand,” I whispered. “Why hide it from me?”

Zen studied me over the rim of his glass. “Because knowledge is power, and keeping you blind kept you under their control.”

The truth settled like a stone in my chest.

A hot tear slid down my cheek. “They didn’t just take my mate. They erased me.”

I expected Zen to mock me, to call me weak again. Instead, his voice lowered, rougher than before. “Then stop letting them.”

I lifted my gaze to him. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes…those burning, golden eyes—held something I hadn’t seen before. Not contempt. Not calculation. Something else.

“You want vengeance,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” I breathed. My hands curled into fists. “I want them to pay. Elias, Anette, my father… all of them.”

The fire crackled, filling the silence. Zen set down his glass and stepped toward me, stopping just inches away. The air between us tightened, heavy with something dangerous.

“Good,” he said. “Hatred will keep you alive. But vengeance alone won’t be enough. You’ll need power. Discipline. Control.”

I swallowed hard. “And you’ll teach me?”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “Perhaps. But not because I owe you. Because I want to see what you truly are.”

His words stirred something deep inside me. Fear, yes, but also a spark of defiance, of hunger. For the first time, I wasn’t begging for someone’s approval. I was standing on the edge of something greater.

“Then teach me,” I said firmly, lifting my chin. “I won’t run anymore. I won’t be their victim.”

Zen studied me for a long moment before nodding. “Very well. But understand this, Estelle: I don’t train weaklings. If you fail, I’ll cast you out myself.”

“I won’t fail.”

The conviction in my voice startled even me. Maybe it was reckless. Maybe it was foolish. But I’d already lost everything. I had nothing left but the promise of vengeance.

For the next few days, Zen put me through brutal training. Dawn to dusk, I sparred, ran, pushed my body until every muscle screamed. His warriors watched, some mocking, some impressed. At first, I stumbled, fell, bled. But each time, I rose again.

And slowly… they began to respect me.

One evening, after a grueling session, I collapsed in the dirt, sweat soaking my clothes. Zen stood over me, arms crossed.

“You’re still too soft,” he said.

I glared up at him.

For a heartbeat, surprise flickered in his eyes. Then his smirk returned. “Careful, Estelle. I might enjoy that challenge.”

Despite my exhaustion, heat rose to my cheeks. I looked away, heart pounding faster than it should. There was something dangerous in the way he looked at me.

That night, alone in my tent, I stared at my reflection in a bowl of water. My face was bruised, my hands blistered, but my eyes burned with new fire.

I wasn’t nothing. Not anymore.

The flap of the tent rustled, and Zen entered without warning. His gaze swept over me, sharp and unyielding.

“I think it’s safe to say you’ve changed,” he said.

“Or maybe I’ve always been like this,” I answered quietly. “I just never had the chance to show it.”

He stepped closer, crouching so we were eye level. His hand reached out, brushing against my forearm where the strange markings had appeared.

“They’ll come again,” he murmured. “When you’re ready, that power will wake fully.”

I shivered under his touch, my breath catching. “And when it does?”

Zen’s eyes darkened. “Then the world will learn to fear you.”

A surge of emotion rushed through me—fear, anticipation, rage, and something dangerously close to desire.

I met his gaze, my voice steady. “If they wanted me gone, they’ll soon wish I’d never left.”