The night was cool, with the distant hum of crickets filling the silence as Alina lay flat on her back, staring up at the vast canopy of stars. Her body was aching, every muscle sore from hours of grueling training with Maeve. She had pushed herself harder than she ever had, but it still didn't feel like enough. Not after everything. Not after being dismissed by Lukas, shunned by the pack, and labeled weak for so long. She couldn't just be "good enough." She had to be more.
Closing her eyes, she tried to relax, but her mind was a whirlwind of frustration and exhaustion. Maeve had been relentless today, pushing Alina to her limits. There were moments where she'd felt like giving up, moments where the pain had threatened to consume her. But she didn't. She kept going, pushing past the agony, past the voice in her head telling her she wasn't strong enough.
The sounds of the forest lulled her into a half-conscious state, and before she knew it, her mind drifted back to a time long ago—a time when everything felt simpler. The edges of the memory softened, and suddenly, she was no longer lying on the cold ground in the present, but standing in the training yard behind her childhood home.
Her father, Gregor Grey, stood before her, towering and strong. His presence was commanding, yet there was always a warmth in his eyes when he looked at her. She remembered the way he used to encourage her, how he believed in her even when she didn't believe in herself.
"You're doing great, Alina," Gregor's deep voice rumbled in her mind as the memory sharpened. His large hands gently repositioned hers into the correct stance as they practiced sparring. "But you have to be quicker. Your enemy won't wait for you to be ready."
Alina, no more than ten years old in the memory, frowned as she tried to hold the stance. Her arms trembled with the effort, and she could feel sweat forming on her brow. "But it's hard, Papa," she said, her voice small and frustrated.
Gregor chuckled, the sound deep and reassuring. "Of course, it's hard. But that's how we grow stronger. Remember, Alina, strength doesn't come from winning. It comes from the struggles you face, the challenges you overcome."
The younger version of her nodded, but her face still held doubt. "What if I'm not strong enough?"
Gregor's expression softened, and he knelt before her, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Alina, strength isn't about never falling. It's about getting back up every time you do. You have something inside you—something greater than you know. Don't let fear or doubt take that from you."
In the present, Alina's eyes fluttered open as the memory faded, leaving her with the ghost of her father's words. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away quickly, unwilling to let herself break. Her father had believed in her back then, and now, more than ever, she had to believe in herself.
Alina missed him terribly. Gregor had been everything to her—a source of strength, wisdom, and comfort. He had taught her the basics of self-defense, the importance of perseverance, and the value of determination. But he hadn't just taught her how to fight physically. He had taught her how to fight through life's challenges, how to stand tall even when the world was pushing her down.
She could almost hear his voice again, clear and firm: "Don't give up, Alina. You're stronger than you think."
Maeve had pushed her to her limits today, yes, but that was nothing compared to the weight of her father's expectations. Gregor had always known she had something special inside her, something untapped. Maybe that's why he had been so insistent on training her, even when the pack didn't see her potential.
A soft breeze brushed over her skin, and Alina felt a renewed sense of determination surge through her. She wasn't just doing this for herself. She was doing it for Gregor, for the legacy he had left behind. He had believed in her, and she refused to let him down.
Sitting up, she glanced at the moon, hanging high in the sky, casting a silver glow over the forest. It reminded her of the nights she had spent with her father, training under the moonlight. Gregor had always preferred those late-night sessions, when the world was quiet, and it was just the two of them.
"You fight with your heart, Alina," he'd said once, during one of their moonlit training sessions. "And that's something no amount of strength can beat. Never lose that."
Her chest tightened at the memory. She had been fighting for so long—against the rejection from the pack, against her insecurities, against her own self-doubt. But she hadn't been fighting with her heart. Not until now.
She needed to stop thinking of herself as weak, as the outcast. If she continued to see herself that way, then that's all she would ever be. Maeve's training was brutal, but it was showing her what she was capable of, even when her body screamed in protest. Each day, she was pushing a little further, lasting a
little longer. Gregor's lessons weren't just about fighting—they were about resilience, about finding strength even when it felt like there was none left.
With a deep breath, Alina stood up, wincing as her muscles protested the movement. The forest was quiet around her, save for the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. She was alone, but somehow, she didn't feel as isolated as she had before. Her father's words echoed in her mind, grounding her, pushing her forward.
Maeve's training was hard, but Alina knew it was necessary. If she wanted to be strong, if she wanted to prove herself to the pack, she had to keep going. She had to push through the pain, the exhaustion, and the doubt.
Because strength wasn't about being unbreakable. It was about being able to break and still find a way to put yourself back together again.
Alina clenched her fists, her father's lessons echoing in her heart. She would get through this. She would keep fighting, just like Gregor had taught her.
"I won't give up, Papa," she whispered to the night air. "I'll make you proud."