Chapter 5: Elara's Training

POV: Elara

Flashback – 3 years before

The smell of damp earth and pine needles clung to the air as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the training grounds. My father stood at the edge of the clearing, his presence as imposing as ever. His broad shoulders seemed to block out the last rays of sunlight, leaving me to face him in the growing darkness.

“Again,” he barked, his voice sharp and unyielding.

I clenched my fists, the ache in my arms protesting against the command, but I didn’t hesitate. Dropping into a crouch, I focused on my opponent—a wooden dummy scarred from years of practice blows. My muscles screamed as I launched into the sequence: a low sweep, a feint, and finally a strike aimed at the head. My claws barely nicked the wood before my father’s voice cut through the clearing.

“Too slow!” he snapped, his disapproval heavy in the air. “If that were an enemy, you’d already be dead. Do it again.”

I bit back the urge to argue, swallowing the frustration rising in my chest. This wasn’t the first time he had pushed me past my limits, and it wouldn’t be the last. My father, Alpha Marcus of Talon Pack, had little patience for anything less than perfection.

Each word he spoke felt like a weight pressing against my chest. I wasn’t just sparring against a wooden dummy—I was sparring against the expectations he had placed on me since the moment I could walk. His voice echoed in my mind as I steadied myself for another attempt.

Strength, Elara. Strength is what holds a pack together.

“Elara,” he said, his tone softening just enough to unsettle me. “Do you think the wolves who will one day look to you for leadership will accept hesitation? Weakness?”

“No,” I muttered, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Then prove it,” he growled, stepping closer. “Show me you deserve to stand where I stand now. That you’ll be more than just a symbol for the pack.”

His words stung, not because they were harsh, but because I had heard them so many times before. My father’s expectations were a weight I had carried for as long as I could remember, a constant reminder of the legacy I was destined to inherit. But his words weren’t the only thing I carried—I carried the doubt, too. The unspoken question that lingered every time he looked at me with that sharp, assessing gaze: Did he truly believe I could lead? Or was I just another task for him to perfect?

Drawing a deep breath, I shifted my stance and prepared to attack again. The ground beneath me was uneven, damp with the remnants of a late spring rain. As I launched into the first strike, my foot slipped, sending me sprawling to the ground.

“Pathetic,” my father muttered.

I pushed myself up, my chest tight with the sting of failure. “I’m trying,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Trying isn’t good enough,” he shot back, his eyes hard. “The wolves who will challenge you as Alpha won’t care how hard you try. They’ll care if you win.”

His words struck a nerve, anger flaring hot and fierce in my chest. For a fleeting moment, I wanted to shout back, to tell him he was wrong—that leadership wasn’t just about strength or winning. It was about the bonds we forged, the trust we earned. But I knew better. He wouldn’t listen—not to that.

Instead, I swallowed my retort, forcing myself to stand tall. I could feel the dampness of the ground soaking through my leggings, the chill seeping into my skin, but I didn’t move. If I let him see my frustration, it would only confirm his doubts.

“Let her rest, Marcus.”

The voice belonged to my mother, who appeared at the edge of the clearing, her expression calm but firm. She crossed her arms, her gaze softening as it landed on me.

“She needs to learn,” my father replied, though his tone lacked its usual sharpness.

“She is learning,” my mother said. “But pushing her until she breaks won’t make her stronger. It will make her resent you.”

Their eyes locked in a silent battle, one I had seen countless times before. My mother had always been the quieter of the two, but her strength lay in her ability to challenge my father without ever raising her voice.

My father sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he said, though the word was laced with frustration. “We’ll stop for tonight. But tomorrow—”

“Tomorrow, she’ll do better,” my mother finished for him, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

He grunted in response, turning and striding toward the forest without another word.

When he was gone, my mother approached me, her presence a balm against the raw edges of my frustration. She knelt beside me, her hands gentle as she brushed dirt from my arms.

“You did well,” she said softly.

I shook my head. “Not well enough.”

Her eyes, so much like mine, searched my face. “Your father doesn’t expect perfection, Elara,” she said. “He just doesn’t know how to ask for anything else.”

I frowned, the weight of her words settling over me. “He thinks I’ll fail.”

“No,” she said firmly. “He fears you’ll fail. And fear is a dangerous thing for an Alpha to carry. It makes him push too hard, demand too much.”

“Then why doesn’t he trust me?” I asked, my voice trembling with the question I had never dared to ask him directly.

My mother’s smile was sad. “He does trust you. He just doesn’t know how to show it. But you’ll lead differently, Elara. You’ll lead with strength, yes, but also with heart. That’s what will set you apart.”

Her words stayed with me as we walked back toward the compound, the night settling in around us. I didn’t answer, unsure if I believed her. My father’s lessons were harsh, his expectations relentless, and they weighed on me like a stone. Yet, beneath the doubt and frustration, there was a spark—a quiet resolve.

As the moon rose higher above the trees, casting its pale light across the clearing, that resolve began to take shape. My father had taught me strength, had pushed me to my limits because he believed that was the only way to prepare me for the role I was destined to inherit. But my mother had taught me something equally important: the strength to lead with compassion.

Someday, I would lead Talon Pack. And when that day came, I would prove to him—and to myself—that strength and heart could coexist.