Eira’s Dark Lessons
The frozen training ground was a battlefield of jagged ice and shattered stone, each strike from Eryon leaving scars on the landscape. His towering wolf form was a mass of tension, every muscle coiled and trembling under the weight of the artifact’s power. The whispers clawed at his mind, insistent and relentless, promising strength but dragging him closer to the edge.
“Again,” Eira commanded, her voice slicing through the icy air like a blade.
Eryon snarled, raking the frozen ground with his claws before lunging at the nearest target. The stone pillars stood like sentinels, unyielding in their formation, but one by one, they crumbled under his ferocious strikes. Yet, with each attack, his movements became less controlled. The artifact pulsed violently in his hands, its energy surging through him in chaotic waves that he struggled to contain.
On the edge of the field, Lyra stood rigid, her arms wrapped tightly around herself against the cold. Her silver eyes tracked Eryon’s every move, flinching each time his balance faltered or his strikes veered off course. The artifact’s influence was palpable, pulling him further from the brother she knew.
“Push harder!” Eira barked, her tone dripping with disdain. She circled Eryon like a predator, her silver eyes unyielding as they scrutinized his every faltering movement. “You call that power? You’ll never survive against the King’s forces with that weak resolve.”
Eryon let out a guttural growl, his amber eyes blazing as he swung wildly, his claws slicing through the air. The force of his next blow shattered a stone pillar into shards, the impact sending him staggering back. His wolf form trembled violently, the strain of the artifact’s power overwhelming him.
“That’s enough!” Lyra’s voice rang out, sharp and filled with desperation. She stepped forward, her silver eyes blazing. “He’s exhausted!”
Eira turned to face her, her expression colder than the ice beneath their feet. “He’ll rest when he’s strong enough. Not before.”
Lyra’s fists clenched, her frustration boiling over. “You’re pushing him too hard! The artifact—”
“The artifact,” Eira interrupted, her voice slicing through Lyra’s protest, “is the key to his survival. To both of yours. If he doesn’t learn to master it, it will destroy him.”
Eryon shifted back to his human form, collapsing to his knees on the icy ground. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body slick with sweat despite the biting cold. He clutched at the artifact, its glow dimming slightly as if waiting for its next opportunity to strike. “I can do it,” he muttered, his voice hoarse and strained. “I just need more time.”
Eira’s lips curled into a faint, predatory smirk. “Good. Because time is the one thing we don’t have.”
Lyra knelt beside her brother, her silver eyes filled with worry as she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Eryon, this isn’t right,” she said softly. “We’re losing ourselves to this.”
Eryon looked up at her, his amber eyes dull with exhaustion. “We have to trust them, Lyra,” he said, his voice trembling but resolute. “It’s the only way.”
Eira’s voice cut through their conversation like a whip. “You’re either with us—or against us.” Her gaze shifted to Lyra, her tone icy and unyielding. “And I suggest you make your choice soon.”
The weight of her words hung heavy in the air, the crimson glow of the artifact casting eerie shadows across the fractured ice. Lyra’s heart raced as she glanced between Eryon and Eira, her mind swirling with doubt and the whispers of the artifact that seemed to echo louder in the silence.
The choice loomed before her like a chasm, dark and unrelenting: trust Eira and the artifact’s seductive promises of power, or risk everything to hold on to the remnants of the selves they were rapidly losing.
