Page 66 of My Wild Pet

I’ve adjusted the obstacle course, raising the difficulty to simulate what they’ll face in the Grand Championships, which is only two weeks away.

I tap a sequence of commands on the console. The floor shifts, revealing contoured platforms, metal beams, and a steep vertical climb that dominates the far corner. The overhead lights dim and then refocus on the newly exposed obstacles.

“Begin,” I say.

Ash and Ember exchange a glance, silently deciding who will go first. Ember nods, taking the lead. He’s an expert at this. Ash, on the other hand, struggles, still uncertain how to anticipate the obstacles or Ember’s intentions. My instructions have been explicit,You must function as one mind, or you will fail.The challenges are too fast even for a moment’s hesitation.

The first few obstacles go smoothly. A timed sprint over moving platforms, a tandem swing where they must grab onto a hanging bar in unison, and a coordinated dodge through low-level drones that fire at regular intervals. They stumble only slightly, with Ember offering a hand or a whispered Imperial cue each time Ash’s hesitation threatens to slow them down.

I can’t help but feel a small, private satisfaction. They’re good. Almost good enough to be champions. If I can push them just a little bit more... they’ll have it.

They arrive at the Tandem Wall Climb—a harsh, vertical structure with built-in grips that rotate unpredictably. Ember scales it quickly. He times each grip’s rotation perfectly, seizing the best angles. Ash follows, but her eyes dart back and forth, and I notice the slight tremor in her leg. Her attention is split between the rotating grips and Ember’s position above her. She’s overthinking it.

“Just move, Ash,” I instruct. “Ember is almost at the top. Don’t lag behind. You’re losing points.”

She shoots a brief glance up at Ember again.

Foolish, I think.

In a blink of an eye, she misses a grip’s rotation and is now hanging by one hand from the obstacle. She’s panicking. Her hold is slipping.

Ember notices immediately and shimmies back down, leaning over to grab her hand. He pulls her upward, but the climb sequence is thrown off. The automated system registers this misalignment and ramps up the difficulty—a quirk of Kaelin’s programming I left in place.

“Now!” I call out. “Both of you, jump to the ledge! Now!”

Ember, recognizing the tone of my voice, executes the maneuver quickly and flawlessly, hooking a hand on the top edge. Ash hesitates as she tries to mimic him, and her foot misses the rotating grip. Ember reaches down and barely catches her wrist. Now she’s swinging in his grip. He attempts to anchor them both, but the sudden shift in weight triggers a mechanical fail-safe in the platform. It drops a fraction, then a fraction more, until the entire mechanism is tilted forward.

“Help me, Gabriel!”

“Pull her up,” I say in a tone sharper than usual.

Ember braces, pulling with everything he’s got, but Ash’s fingers slip from his grasp. He tries again, lunging downward, but it’s too late. She’s lost her footing completely.

I leave my console as she tumbles down, hitting one of the lower outcroppings with a sickening thud before landing on a partial safety net. Her momentum bounces her off, and she slams into the side rail, rolling onto the floor. The net saved her from a lethal fall, but not from serious injury.

Ember yells something in his human tongue, an anguished sound that echoes in the gymnasium.

I grit my teeth. Kaelin or I would have shocked him for such an outburst under normal circumstances, but I have bigger concerns now. Quickly, I use my IC to summon the medical drones and direct them to the accident site while I hurry to Ash.

I’m worried as I see her crumpled on the floor, barely conscious.

Before I can reach her, Ember leaps down the structure without a thought for his own safety, dropping the last ten feet. He rushes to her side, gathering her limp body in his arms.

Ember glares at me with a rage I’ve not seen in him in years. “You pushed her too far. She’s not ready!” he says.

I meet his eyes. “Put her down and let the medical drones attend to her.”

Ember does as I say.

Then I say to him, “Ash fell because you two still haven’t synchronized. You tried to save her, yes, but your bond is not strong enough. If you can’t act as one, accidents will happen.”

He looks like he’s ready to lunge at me, but his attention turns to Ash when the drones finish stabilizing her and begin transferring her onto a hovering stretcher.

Ember and I both go to her side as she’s elevated. I become concerned when I notice that her skin has gone pale, I check hercollar’s diagnostic display, and the numbers cascade in alarming red across the holographic screen:

Heart Rate: 192 bpm (critical)

Blood Pressure: 90/58 (borderline hypotension)

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